Swinging At Curveballs
I'm not a big fan of change.
You'd think by the time I'd reached this point in my life, I'd have developed a "change is inevitable and I'm used to it" attitude. Oh, dear. No. Not a bit.
I like routine. I like knowing what's going to happen. I'm all for a great, romping adventure in a novel, but I prefer my kitty slippers, a glass of whatever potion I choose to drink and said novel on my lap every evening.
And yet God persists in challenging me. Telling me to stop crowding the plate. No balks, but almost. The change-ups are always circumstances in which to trust Him. I do better sometimes than others.
He does that, you know. Throws you a spiritual curve ball. It's not a test (Will she do it? Will she get it this time?) so much as a way to learn how to swing better. Keep changing up those pitches, and eventually, you can hit 'em all ... well, a lot anyway. But God loves a good curve ball.
Take Mary. Imagine an angel showing up and telling you you're about to become the mother of the Messiah.
Or Noah. Go build a great big boat. Everyone's going to think you're nuts, but ...
Or Moses. Dragging a bunch of whiny, ungrateful ex-slaves around the desert, knowing the Promised Land is out there somewhere, somewhere.
I'm in the batting cage. I'm swinging away. I'll get there. Keep 'em comin'!
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