This week is going to be exhausting. I feel it coming on already and it’s only Monday. On Thursday a built in wardrobe will be delivered in flat pack. On Friday an installer will arrive and have it all done in a day. Fab, you say, where’s the problem? This is just a two bed house, so everything in that room will have to be stored elsewhere (and there’s a lot). There is nowhere else except the living room. We can stack some stuff in the bath, I suppose… and because the bedroom will be emptied on Tuesday (the only day my son-in-law can help) my granddaughter will have to sleep on the settee, in the middle of all the stuff we’ve decanted. Also, the existing wardrobe arrangement (a Fred Karno affair) will be dismantled tomorrow and ALSO stored in the living room until someone comes to collect it….. but I have to advertise it first and I’ve never done that before…. and how many people will call about it?….. should I put my phone number in the ad or is that asking for trouble? …..and I have two dogs, and a script to deliver….
So, do you know what I’m going to do about all that? I’m going to make another cup of coffee, butter a teacake, and talk to you. Problem solved.
Today a friend sent me Psalm 139 verses 23&24. Not comfortable verses.
“Search me, God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.”
There’s loads of offensive ways in me. I’ve had them all spelled out to me this week, at length and with no holds barred, a fair bit of name calling, a load of vitriol and stored up hurt – it never occurred to me that anyone could loathe me with quite so much intensity. It’s left me reeling and – Psalm or no Psalm – I don’t really need God to get in on the act too. Do I really want the all knowing One to shine a light on all the dust and dirt in my hidden corners? There’s a limit to how much I can take in one week, folks.
Anyway, I did read Psalm 139, all of it, culminating in those last lines (a prayer I sort of half-said, fingers crossed and wincing) and by the end I was proper grumpy-grumpy, lonely, abandoned, disliked and thoroughly HORRIBLE on a wet Monday morning. If I had a cat I’d have kicked it (oh, stop with the eye rolling. I wouldn’t)
BUT then I remembered. It’s all about surrender. It’s all about God. It’s not about me. (“It is!” the 3 year old within me shouted “It bloody well is!”).
And then I remembered that last week I was given the Passion translation of The Psalms, so I closed my NIV and opened that… and look how this version puts that same thought;
God, I invite your searching gaze into my heart.
Examine me through and through;
find out everything that may be hidden within me.
Put me to the test and sift through all my anxious cares.
See if there is any path of pain I’m walking on,
and lead me back to your glorious, everlasting ways—
the path that brings me back to you.
That’s it! That’s bloomin’ it, mate! Innit? If there’s stuff I need to change, if the things that were said to me about my character were even half true, then it’s all stuff that’s harming my relationship with God. Do I want to know what that ‘stuff’ is?
You’re cotton pickin’ right I do.
And will God let me know which bits of that bitter tirade against me are true? You’re cotton pickin’ right He will!
And then do I want to be led back to the path that leads me straight back to God?
Outta my way, chickens – crazy woman coming through – crazy woman with some soul searching to do.
And it’s stopped raining, for the minute.