So, I admit it, I'm a bit of whiner. If something goes differently from how I imagined it or, better yet, planned it to be, my default reaction is pure, unadulterated whine.
This happened just the other day actually (and who am I kidding, it happens every day, but this particular instance is a better case-in-point) when we were offered a night to ourselves with FREE babysitting (a.k.a. grandparents were in town!). Of course, all I have to hear is "night to ourselves" before my mind begins preemptive planning that includes hours out of the house, a quiet, un-rushed eating experience, purposeless window shopping, and maybe even a once-in-a-blue-moon detour into the cinema (gasp! was that ever a habitual part of life?). My husband calls me overly enthusiastic; I call myself strategic. Unpaid hours of babysitting must be fully capitalized upon. I want to squeeze out every. last. minute.
Needless to say, my euphoria over this unexpected blessing grew rapidly as each new idea sprung into my head, and I called my husband to include him in on this veritable second honeymoon. When his enthusiasm barely registered on the Richter scale, I knew something was up.
"Uhm, honey?"
Uh-oh.
"I know I'm usually off at 5, but they've scheduled an unexpected training session right after I'm done. It'll probably be 7:15 or so before I can..."
And he kept talking. Something about needing to go to bed on time since it was a weeknight. And something about fetal heart monitoring. And something about being really sorry. But I wasn't listening at this point. I was inwardly wallowing.
I know I've addressed my issue with wallowing in previous posts, so I won't bore you with vain repetition. However, the wallowing was great and the disappointment even greater. And, of course, being pregnant and the dramatic, feel-everything-to-its-extreme kind of person I am, I could not help but cry.
Like an upset two-year-old I know. Where does she get it??
Anyway, my dear and loving husband felt horrendous, of course, but residency is residency (a.k.a. they have the right to your firstborn), so nothing could be done. (And I'm only kidding about the residency thing. Sort of.)
Anyway, this particular wallowing session lasted for a good two days. Every time I thought about it, especially what was to have been, I just got more and more upset. The evening before our much-reduced-in-awesomeness date night, Andrew was trying his darn-hardest to still make it special (bless his heart), and I was doing my darn-hardest to be completely unmoved by any suggestion.
I knew I was having a bad attitude. I knew it was ridiculous. And petty. And childish. But that's the Flesh for you: it makes it so gratifying to give in...at least for the moment.
Ok, so that was last night. This morning, I get up early to have my time with the Lord. Heh. Didn't exactly go into it without knowing exactly what we were going to be dealing with. And I could've laughed at the first words of Jesus Calling this morning: "Thankfulness opens the door to My Presence."
Wow. I wasn't even getting a "hello" until I did the whole "give thanks in all circumstances thing." I can't say I was immediately moved by the Spirit (remember the whole two-day wallowing thing?). But then I read the corresponding Scripture and couldn't help but extend my reading to the entirety of Psalm 100. And here's the verse that literally leapt from the page:
"Know that the LORD Himself is God;
It is He who has made us, and not we ourselves;
We are His people and the sheep of His pasture." (v. 3)
These would be the verses that precede the very popular "Enter His gates with thanksgiving and His courts with praise" (v. 4). And then it became very clear to me. God is, has always been, and always will be a God of relationship. This is no performance command to give thanks in deed only. We give thanks from an attitude of submission.
We are ungrateful when we forget that the LORD is God.
We whine when we forget that we are Made and not Makers.
We wallow in self-pity when we forget that we are His people. In His Kingdom. Where He's in charge.
See, David had to reconcile proper ownership before he could offer genuine thanksgiving that results in joy. Likewise, when we attempt to control, God will inevitably allow our carefully-formulated plans to unravel--not to arbitrarily make us miserable (though it may feel that way at times), but to save us from ourselves and deliver us into the joy-filled, peace-enclosed pastures of His Presence and Person.
And it is there, led by the still waters, guided by His own Hands, that we can genuinely "come before Him with joyful singing" (v. 2).
I was so humbled this morning. The fact that I'm a neurotic control-freak was no surprise, but the connection between my controlling nature and my view of God shocked me. What low thoughts of Him my attempts to control reveal. I had forgotten that He. Is. God. God.
What joy that such a One would call me "His people!" As my Maker, He can have any date night He chooses. And it's my part to trust that what He asks of me will only be returned in greater, more abundant measure.
I don't think Psalm 100, or this post, could end in a more fitting way:
"For the Lord is good;
His lovingkindness is everlasting
And His faithfulness to all generations."
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