Walking With Christ

Deuteronomy 8:2-5  (2)And you shall remember the whole way that the Lord your God has led you these forty years in the wilderness, that he might humble you, testing you to know what was in your heart, whether you would keep his commandments or not.  (3)And he humbled you and let you hunger and fed you with manna, which you did not know, nor did your fathers know, that he might make you know that man does not live by bread alone, but man lives by every word that comes from the mouth of the Lord.  (4)Your clothing did not wear out on you and your foot did not swell these forty years.  (5)Know then in your heart that, as a man disciplines his son, the Lord your God disciplines you.(ESV)

There are days that I need this lesson played loudly on repeat.

On my bookshelf at home is a painted box that speaks to me every time I walk through the room.  It says, “I remember when I prayed for the things that I have now”.  Things might not be how I wanted them to be.  Things might not look like I thought they would.  But I have to remember—God placed me here for a reason.

I once prayed to be right here where I am right now.  So, why would I be acting like it’s such a burden?  Why am I so focused on the chaos swirling around me when it has nothing to do with me.  If I let the world distract me from my next steps, then I may falter.

I know that if my eyes are on the storm, they aren’t on Jesus.  I know that He is with me.  I know that He is working in my life.  I know that He has plans for me.  I know that He will never leave me or forsake me.  His word is good, and His promises are trustworthy.

So, I will keep my eyes on Him until my eyes fail.  And when my eyes fail, I will listen to the beautiful sound of His voice calling to me forward.  And when my ears fail, I will trust His hands to guide me, to protect me, to carry me.  Because as long as I still have breath, God is not done with me.

No!  This life is meant to be lived boldly, fully, fearlessly—so that when we slide into heaven, beaten up, covered in scars, bruises, and battle wounds, leaving a smoke trail behind us, we aren’t whispering…

We’re shouting—”WHAT A RIDE!”

AMEN!