Saturday, April 14, 2018

Plan A or Plan B

“The mind of man plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps” -Prov. 16:9 Being present means I’m aware of what is going on in my soul. It means I don’t have covert, secret buttons that get pressed that cause reactions. It means I’m in touch with my “innards”- I still have triggers that get activated, but when those alarms go off, I don’t push the snooze button- I heed them. It doesn’t mean I don’t have buttons that get pushed, it just means I’m not a slave to them unconsciously. It simply means I’m aware and able to make healthy and mature decisions on how I’ll react. It means when the “Plan A’s” don’t work out, I’m okay switching to Plan B. It means I seek the Lord’s will and His desire for my life. I teach these concepts quite often. But this past weekend, I didn’t exactly follow my own advice! Saturday finally arrived after a super busy week. It was a great week working with people, but in the people business, I don’t often see concrete, objective results. Jeanie has observed that when I come home, I like doing projects. I like replacing the broken light switch and watching it work. After all, it’s actually fixed! I love that. So, I was looking forward to working in the yard and giving our lawn it’s first cut of the year. After all, our yard looks beautiful when all the weeds are the same height! So, I filled the mower with fresh gas, pulled the cord, and the mower started, but sounded terrible! I played with the throttle, but it ran roughly. I restarted the mower but it still ran poorly. With each restart, I got more and more frustrated. And that’s when it happened- my finger got too close to the blade. Rewind almost 25 years. My mower had bogged down, in this same yard, in heavy grass. As I was clearing a small twig out of the shoot, the blade hit my middle finger and cut it about half an inch. We wrapped a bandage around it to stop the bleeding and Jeanie drove me to the ER. They stitched my finger and it took months to heal. Back to the present: I slowly pulled back my hand and nervously looked at my fingers. Did I do it again? No blood. No cut. The blade had barely glanced my hand. The Lord was saying, “I am in control. Go ahead and make all the plans you want, but I want you to realize that I hold the trump card. I could have cut your hand off, but I didn’t. Trust me. Relax.” I was so humbled. I asked the Lord for forgiveness and my spirit was changed. I slowed down, took a deep breath, and surrendered my spirit (for the zillionth time) to the Lord. I took the mower to the local mower shop. A kind workman helped me and in five minutes fixed the problem. It ran great. A small choke part was stuck from sitting all winter. He and I had a great visit. Somehow, it was in the Lord’s plan that I should have to have my mower repaired and I was simply to follow His plan. I asked, “But why that plan?” I have no idea. But I don’t need to know why. Buttons will always get pressed. But what we do after the button is pressed is up to us. It’s our choice. No broken mower can make me angry. I have to choose to let it make me angry. Or I can choose to trust in the Lord and be okay with the circumstances. May the Lord have His way in us and in our plans. May we let the Lord truly direct our steps with a teachable and flexible spirit. If my finger had been cut off, would I have trusted His wisdom? If the mower had been ruined, would I have trusted His plan? Have I “learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am in?” (Phil. 4:11-12) To continue Paul’s words, do I “Know how to get along with humble means, and also know how to live in prosperity; in any and every circumstance have I learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need?” Of course, the end of that passage Paul says it all, “I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.” Phil. 4:13 The “secret”, as Paul called it, is to depend on Him and His divine plan. May we rest in that today. May we rest in His providence… …whether the grass gets mowed or not. By Eric Joseph Staples ©