Skipping Stones with God
I took my boys, 5 and 8, down to the Milwaukee
Lakefront and was teaching them to skip rocks. It is so satisfying to see
one skip off into the distance and disappear from view, riding the waves.
Ok, so I have never been that good...but two or three skips in a row still
looks cool. More often than not, though, the rocks the boys picked were too
big, and sunk with a giant bubbling thunk. Still cool, but not really the
goal...or so I thought.
When I turn on my computer in the morning, the first email I read is the
KLOVE radio station verse of the day. Then I read a few online devotions.
All good stuff. Each thing I read makes me nod my head and say, Ooh...that's
good. Now I have a friend sending me devotionals, which I read, and say,
Oooh...that's good. Then, I might work on a Bible study, or read a devo in a
magazine, and say...yup, you guessed it...ooh...that's good. Then, midway
through the morning, when real life is setting in, I try to draw strength
from the Lord. With everything I have read, you'd think something would
stick. But it doesn't, because I have been skipping stones with God.
Instead of a big satisfying thunk of a bubble, as His Word sinks to the
bottom of my soul, forming a firm foundation in the sand of my life, it
never really settles beneath the surface. What to do? What to give up? I
think the answer lies in the word "illumination". When something catches
your eye, and you can't stop going back to it, stop there. The Holy Spirit
could very well be telling you that this is your big rock. Grab that one,
and settle there for a bit. Ponder. Meditate. Dwell there. Watch for the
bubble.
Father God, please grant that Your Word would dwell in us richly, not just
scatter a few bubbles across the surface and keep moving. Yours are the
Words of life, the Lamp to our feet. Please displace me with You, sending up
a big bubble of surrender. Help all of us who are guilty of dabbling, but
never really dwelling. In the Name of Him Who Makes All Things Possible,
Amen. Not my strength, but Yours, Father
Debbie Giese