Wanting What I Donít Want


My eyesight is getting poor. The print on the page is as blurry as the score on the board across the lacrosse field. I strain and blink and adjust in more and more infrequently successful attempts to get focused.

Is that what Iím doing with You, Jesus? Trying to see You in ways that "worked" before? Straining and blinking and adjusting to focus?

Itís not working--and Iím glad. Well, only faith-glad. To say Iím glad otherwise would be a bald-faced lie. But I am faith-glad, Jesus. If You want to show me new ways of seeing You, ways that the old methods couldnít have approached, I want them. I understand that the typewriter has to be set aside if Iím to learn to use the computer. I realize that for a while in there Iíll feel really out of it. But donít let me go back to the typewriter, Jesus.

Iím glad Youíve shown me promises to anchor me while the ground Iíve stood on for so long rattles and shakes and moves, plate upon plate, under me. I thought I knew what an earthquake looked like-- a death in the family, a burned down house. This earthquake, though, is about having what Iíve ever known myself to act like and think like moved aside by the great hand of God.

Iíve never heard anyone say how much fun it was to experience an earthquake--especially someone who couldnít see very well. But, still, I am faith-glad. I will sing, "It is well with my soul."

You are an awesome God. How You rein in the force of Your power and adjust it to me! Confront me, shake my ground! Never was there something I havenít wanted that I want more.