I was up until 2 last night, er, this morning, futzing about with seemingly important things that could very easily have waited until later today. I knew what I was doing even as I was doing it, but that didn’t stop me. I gulp hard as I type this, because the experience of knowing I’m doing something that isn’t necessarily sinful, but isn’t beneficial or edifying is an all-too familiar one. As is immersing myself in the unimportant in order to put off what’s really important.
Aaaaand…we’re off! The journey has begun.
Would going to bed at a decent hour last night really have made Day One come faster? Was I somehow extending time by staying up late? I chuckle; it all seems ridiculous now, but last night there was a push-pull in my heart, soul, mind and body about the whole thing. But let’s name it for what it was — fear with just a soupçon of doubt. Which is why God — because He knows me sooo well (Psalm 139!!) — in His infinite wisdom made it abundantly clear that I was supposed to tell the world I was doing this. Otherwise, I could have so easily backed out, or backed down by coming up with a “new and improved” plan that wasn’t going to be quite so hard. Isn’t it wise to take baby steps? To set things up for success? Usually, but not in this case. Not now. Not when below the bits of fear and doubt I have the unshakeable know-that-I-know-that-I-know burning in my chest which comes rarely, but when it’s most needed. Like when I got married. Like when I got the call to be a Worship Pastor, and a few other times since.
1 Corinthians 1:25 says, “This foolish plan of God is wiser than the wisest of human plans, and God’s weakness is stronger than the greatest of human strength” (NLT).
That settles it, then.
So, what now? I woke up to a very scratchy throat with very little singing voice, and I’m supposed to lead worship tonight at our Ash Wednesday service. Is it allergies? Spiritual attack? Or perhaps, ahem, lack of sleep? Maybe some of each? I choose to trust and to not beat myself up. I also choose to laugh heartily that I started off the whole journey on the “wrong foot” which, in God’s beautiful upside-down economy, is the exact foot that was needed. I had said yesterday how this Lenten adventure is not about doing it right, so what better way to start than by doing it not-right?
Which means it’s right after all.
Ah…how I love the foolishness of God.
(P.S. Does anyone else have the tradition of exclaiming “Road trip!” as you head out on a new adventure?)