For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.
And I would say, absolutely!
Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!
Inscrutable! <— impossible to understand or interpret.
For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory forever. Amen.
Everybody can just say AMEN. All the glory to him!
His timing, impeccable. His ways, immaculate.
You can say, Irina, you’re boring. You already wrote this in your blog. So be it. I can definitely be boring. (Some places you just have to be boring or else you’ll get condemned! So you stand serious faced and solemn, dare not smile or joke, but that’s not for this post.)
I love a good story. And there’s no one who could write a better story than the writer of all stories, God himself. To think of each and every tiny detail. Every character. Every thing that comes into play. Intertwined. Weaved. I once told somebody, if we really knew each story of any one human, the full version, the unobstructed one, the way God sees it all, how much more, perhaps, we could be kinder, gentler, more patient. How much more gracious and merciful. More tenderhearted towards them, those people of that story. Perhaps we’d truly rejoice in their happiness. If we felt the anguish, the fury, each cry, or each moment of excitement. If we saw it all from start to finish…perhaps we wouldn’t be so quick to judge, to criticize, to condemn. Perhaps we’d actually understand. But we don’t. Too many times, we just see a snippet. A tiny little glimpse into any one story.
But to see even a tiny glimpse can be so overwhelming.
We celebrated Jesus on Sunday. Peter said we need to have a “feast” and celebrate. So we did. With steak. (Peter’s wish.) Anyone might wonder, what was Sunday, what holiday? Absolutely none other than God’s work in the story of our lives! We’ve seen such magnitude in his love for us, in his ways, in his care and provision. Perhaps more clearer than ever. I have started to call Colorado the ‘desert’. Like the place where things seemed to not move, the land barren, cracking falling through, plants dying, dry & arid, sun scorching. Seems very fitting. A place I did not belong in. (sorry not sorry to those who really love Colorado ) And yet, after all this time, where it seemed like nothing was happening, everything had been happening. Unseen. And in this desert is where I have seen Jesus more brighter than before. Brighter than any star. It is places you go that are dark to see the stars more vividly. And why not the dessert, where there are no lights for miles, and all seems still and quiet. With the sky illuminated far beyond anything you could see in the bustling, busy streets of a city. So now, when I think of Colorado, I don’t think of it as that place I sat and waited. It’s the place I saw His hand in things.
People. They like to test you. Push your buttons. You’ll say, oh I hate the sound of bouncy balls. Noise. And what do they do? They take that basket with all those balls and throw it on the hard wood floor, peeking out with their peripheral vision to see how you react. It’s funny. And you just want to groan and be like, aren’t we a bit above this?
And then there’s the kind of test you could say, it only comes from God. A test of obedience perhaps. Back in fall of 2018, I drove past this lady’s home, whom I have gotten to know. It had been quite some time, and I had this compelling feeling to contact her. To text her. To reach out to her. But at the same time, I was agitated. I felt like she didn’t even like me. That I’d just be annoying. I was just tired of it all. And here I am in my little blue honda driving by, thinking about it and literally saying OUTLOUD “NO!” No, I don’t want to. No I won’t. Like a toddler ready to throw a tantrum! How horrid. Why? Because I know that little feeling all too well. I know that little voice inside my heart that pushes and prods me to to do something. And here I was saying no. Literally, out loud, alone in my car. It was my no to God. If you happened to see me I’d just give a sheepish smile and mumble about talking to myself. I mean, what else could that have looked like? Just some lady driving around talking to herself. And here’s the thing. I didn’t text her or reach out. Stubbornly. She did. She contacted me that very same day. And that moment she did, I said God forgive me. I was being a Jonah! (not that there was a city to be ruined or whatnot.) I repented right there on the spot. What seems like nothing, just a text, was actually quite a huge thing for me. It was knowingly. I’ve had these things happen many times. When I don’t follow through, I miss out on a blessing. I am literally disobeying. Perhaps someone else misses out on something. God still has his way, but I miss out. It comes to this: I don’t have to understand or know why. I have to do. It’s the act of obedience in my life.
And then I suppressed that little prodding for a year. I should have known. From experience. From proof of many times before. But I had thought it was a silly thing. Why such a compelling feeling to do something that seemed so insignificant. But again. It’s not for me to judge the significance of what I am to do. It’s not for me to know. Sometimes God says go and doesn’t tell you why. Because had I known, I’d definitely say No way! That’s why sometimes God keeps us in a partial oblivious state.
The ways of God are beyond my understanding. But I wish to never doubt, never question, (or at least do less of it) to trust even more and have faith like never before…and know, He knows what He is doing! The details are in His hands.