This afternoon, I was thinking and interpreting life around me without depending on God’s word as my source of truth. I was depressed. I was making assumptions about my situation because of the emotions I was feeling, and I was becoming uglier by the second. As I sat in front of my computer, deep in my moody bedroom, I slowly became a tearful extension of the folding chair beneath my rear-end. I suddenly knew I was doing just what I had vowed not to do about 3 hours earlier when life was sunny. Then I had been satisfied with God’s purpose for me. But here I was, being a brat. So I shook myself in disgust and bowed my head to pray. Soon, however, I felt the Holy Spirit tell me that my prayers weren’t going to help right now, because I was still sitting in my chair. “Amy, staying in your room will not help. Get up, go downstairs, and make your mom cookies. You can pray in the kitchen.” I responded, “Ok, Lord. I’ll do that,” and left my cave.
The cheery kitchen brightened my heart and Mom was more than happy to help me decide what to make, though the options were slim. When we found that we had no peanut butter, no molasses, and no chocolate chips, I pulled out the dates and declared I would make date bars. I love dates. I can eat them any way and any time. I grinned with sheer delight as I chopped the succulent morsels into gooey chunks, and reflected upon the life of desert nomads and how God provides food even in scorching wastelands. In fact, the last time I made date bars was in North Africa, and quite honestly it was like running through a gauntlet…those dates had maggots. So on that occasion, with every careful chop I was holding my breath and ready to throw the date into the trashcan at the first sign of a fat, wriggling, and lumpy worm. But huzzah! Today’s dates were from sunny California and were probably amply sprayed by chemicals before they were packaged and shipped. And now, they were mine to bake. I boiled them with water and sugar until they thickened to a pudding. Next, I mixed together flour, brown sugar, baking soda, and salt, adding melted butter and egg whites. Half of the crust I padded into the trusty 9x13 pan, sprayed with non-stick, and the date filling I spread on top, finally adding the rest of the crust. After sliding the burdened pan into the oven, eating became something to look forward to. (But when is it not?)
As I sit here at my computer, waiting for dinner and then dessert, I know I’m already starting to feel bored and depressed again. I think now is the time to sit with my Bible and let His words be the source of my attitude for the rest of the day. Sometimes I need to get up and DO something if I’m thinking too much. And after God calms my mind through the activity, I’m able to sit down with His word and let Him fill my mind with His truth. I’m thankful for His still, small voice that tells me to “get up” when I need to get off my bum, and to “rest” when I’m going too fast, and to “get over it” when I’m only thinking of me. If you’re anything like me and think too much, consider doing things. Don’t just sit. If you do sit, be sure you are thinking on whatever is true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable, excellent, and worthy of praise [Phil 4:8]. And sometimes to do that you need to get out of your dark, depressing bedroom and go make your mother some cookies.
No comments:
Post a Comment