...not about my comfort...

It is a tired kind of morning.  It will soon be Christmas vacation; the kids feel that at such a time, getting up for school is rather a cruel and unusual punishment.  Hubby and I were busy the last several days, processing deer meat for the freezer.  It was well worth it--we got a lot of meat in the freezer; and we had some help from friends who were dividing the meat with us.  But it was also a lot of work--what a relief when it was done.  So, all that to say that we tired folks all rolled out of our warm cozy beds somewhat begrudgingly.  It was cold and windy out; to stay under the covers and go back to sleep was definitely more inviting.

But life goes on, on cold, windy, tired mornings too.  So we sleepily went about getting ready to face the day.

Sometimes anxiety is so much a part of life that I am hardly aware of it.  It feels normal; although I have been told by professionals, family, and close friends, that this level of it is not normal.  Sometimes it fades into the background for a length of time and I realize, out of the blue one day, that I have had a restful day or week, with little bothersome agitation.  That my brain has been calm for days, and that life is so much more pleasant like this.  But other times, I realize that I am wound very tightly, and have been for so long that I can’t pinpoint when it started.  Lately, I am unable to pinpoint when the long-standing jitters have taken up residence.  But they are there.

My brain has been like a google search engine with a default setting of “frightening scenarios.”  Sometimes, for a while, I will use my brain for something; then the search engine might find “recipe for yummy cake,” or “cleaning the bathroom,” or “what shall we have for supper tonight?”  But once the search of the subject at hand has been done, the search engine defaults back to “frightening scenarios of a myriad of things that could happen (but haven‘t, yet).”  It is not fun; it is pretty wearying to continually haul my brain back out of the terror zone; but at least it is not a deep depression that renders one unable to function.  With the meds and therapy that have become part of life, it is something I can live with.

The other day, while doing that mindless motherly chore of washing dishes, I had a problem on my mind that could be a scary scenario...but isn’t yet.  And may never be.  As I thought and prayed over it, and tried to keep my mind out of that worst-case-scenario pit that it wanted to leap into, a thought came into my mind.

“This is not about your comfort.”

What?  Is that you, God?  Well, since it was just He and I in my kitchen that morning, I guess it had to be Him...

Again...”This is not about your comfort.  It is about My glory.”

I knew this, deep down, but I think I needed to be reminded again.  We were not put here to be comfortable.  We are pilgrims and strangers here on this earth.  Our home is not here, we are “looking for a city built above.”  But how often I forget.

I am of a generation of American kids who were raised with adequate food, clothing and shelter.  Yes, we had our problems, but by and large we were provided for, and raised with the notion that if we were uncomfortable, that something was wrong and needed to be fixed.

But the reality is that, no matter how hard we try, there will be times we will not be comfortable.  We live in a world where there is pain, illness, accident, hardship, and ultimately, death.  Our comfort is, at best, fleeting.  For some reason, God allowed sin, pain, and death to enter our world...and through it His glory will be shown.  In our weakness, his strength is made known.

I looked down at the dish I was washing.  There was some stubborn dirt that I couldn’t wipe off.  I heartily dislike washing dishes, and I was annoyed that this one had the nerve to make my job more difficult.  But...this is not about me being comfortable.  This is about me glorifying God.  I scrubbed at the dish in annoyance, but without really seeing it.  My mind was still on frightening scenarios and possibilities that could come to pass.

“But not this, too, God!”  my mind said of the perplexing problem that was weighing me down.  Didn’t I have enough anxiety in what was my normal state of mind, without adding another problem? 

Again, a thought popping into my mind that seemed not to be my own...  ”This is not about you being comfortable.  This is about My glory.”

So how do I glorify God in this, an annoyingly dirty dish and a bigger perplexing problem?  I am standing in front of a sink of dishes, with hair falling in my eyes and soap on my hands.  Where is the glory in that?

“As unto Christ, not unto men.”

Even the stubborn dirt on the dishes.  Maybe especially the stubborn dirt on the dishes.  A few months ago, He sent me a tiny beautiful flower--extravagant beauty in tiny petals that were only admired and enjoyed by myself, my little boy who brought me the flower, and He who made it.  He sees the smallest things.  Even how clean my dishes are.  I scrubbed the stubborn dirt until the dish was shiny.  Nobody in my house would admire it.  But He who put the tiny details into each flower petal would surely see and know that that dish was clean.  For His glory, even if nobody else notices.

He who made my mind and heart will see and know when I sweep the dirt out of the corners, even if no one else looks.  He will know when I work at memorizing scripture to take my mind off the worst-case-scenarios that will pop up in my head.  No matter what anyone else thinks of my kitchen, He will understand that graph paper taped to my kitchen cupboards with John 14 written on it does not make me a crazy lady, it gives me a useful direction to take my mind when it goes to dark places.  He will know and understand all these things, even if other people do not.  He will glorify Himself in all things, and meet all my needs.  Not always make me comfortable, mind you, but He will meet my needs.
 
When I cannot understand all the circumstances, all the whys...I can still do my very best in the tasks before me.  I can still honor Him in the little things that only He sees.  It is not about my comfort.  But each job He gives me to do, no matter how small or unseen, is for His glory.