It might be selfish of me; but before I start an outdoor adventure or leave on a big trip, I ask Jesus to reveal his heart, his character, or his glory. Before my first flight toward the Arctic Circle, that prayer came with a visual hope: to witness aurora borealis in person for the first time. For this trip, I added a second prayer request: “God, will you show me why you put the desire in me to go on this trip—why you wanted me to search for you in the Arctic Circle?”
2020 needs no introduction, but this tumultuous year introduced me to three new prayers. My conversations with Jesus grew sweeter and more intimate while the world around me seemed to move further away, and these simple prayers proved cathartic for my soul. You might find them helpful. Just in case, here’s how I bumped into them.
When I start to grow ungrateful or when my memory fades, he sends me a new reminder of his goodness. He flashes some serendipity. He shows off his sovereignty. He proves his thoughts are higher, his plans better. He lets me revel on one side of the river and then invites me to the other side.
Being aware of God’s promises and his provision helps us understand the narrative he’s writing, even if we don’t know the next chapter. When he reveals his character, he overpowers our insecurities and confronts our doubt. When he supernaturally interjects sovereign moments into our lives, he’s doing it for our good and his glory.
I’ll never forget that moment in my life: the sense of accomplishment, the impression of awe. Scientists have found that reflecting on life’s wins like these refuels our serotonin levels in our bodies, which helps us manage stress. Triggering those memories and what goes with them immunizes us to burnout. So, I wear these hats regularly to take me back to January 2008.
Theologians have studied God’s expressions in similar ways as the linguists and scientists of Arrival evaluated the transcriptions of the heptapods. Like the linguists, it can be easy for us to focus on parsing and expounding—on asking, “What is your plan here!?”
Regardless of who wins, I guarantee you will see more than a few of these posts the day after the election.
The irony of the situation was that I was asked to speak about what I’ve seen God do in odd or uncomfortable ways over the past few years of my life. Using Bob Goff’s book, Love Does, as a filter, I told my story of life change and the stories of sovereignty that affirmed my spiritual journey. I challenged the circle to respond to God’s promptings, even when they don’t understand the reason or efficacy of that obedience.
The story I’ll remember most won’t be the one on the screen. It’ll be the one God wrote and directed behind the scenes. A story of rescue, a tale of sovereignty.
One of the sayings we have on the parking team goes back to my driver ed instructor. “There are no accidents—only collisions.” I don’t think it was an accident that all of these situations intersected as they did. I prefer to think God planned a collision with her that night.
It’s funny how adrenaline and dopamine work.
Biologically, you get more of them—and with them, more of a rush—the more scared you are at the second you launch.
It’s the same with faith.
God seems to dole the reward for surrender with a greater sense of gratitude, peace, and accomplishment.
I was whisked away to an adventure that would in no small way make the heart of those dreams come true.
The challenge, especially for those of us who consider ourselves self-sufficient, is to reach out to our friends. The reward for this vulnerability is more than refreshment. It brings a renewed sense of purpose, a sense of belonging, an appreciation of the Sovereign.
The Adjustment Bureau reminded me of a truth that I’ve found throughout my spiritual walk: the omniscient Chairman (of my worldview) had better plans for me than I had for myself.
I had not challenged myself as I’ve grown the reputation of doing, and we all knew it.
Like Farrell’s Harold Crick, I have lived for the past few months with the premonition that my life is at least somewhat scripted, that I have a choice to embrace destiny or pretend with a sense of control. I have talked to invisible ears, asked questions of ‘the omniscient third person.