Wednesday, March 23, 2011

One Thing

For quite some time now I've felt the conviction that I need to spend more time on my writing. For one thing I've had so many positive responses to my poetry and various bloggings about my childhood, and how its abuses affected my walk with God. This is greatly encouraging, but can also lead to apprehension. I think I'll always have the propensity for assuming that whatever I write is of no interest to anyone but myself. And yet I don't want to be influenced by false modesty.

Before I was hardly out of bed this morning my mind with churning with writing ideas. I made the decision to devote the day to writing; the housework could wait. Who would care if the floors don't get swept? Well apparently I do! What a distraction to attempt focusing on writing when I was aware of dishes piled in the sink, and the bathroom which needs a good scrubbing. I deliberately turned my thoughts away from these domestic concerns. This is a "Mary" day, I told myself, reminding myself that Jesus commended her for having chosen the good part----sitting at his feet and learning from Him---in contrast to her sister Martha who was careful about too many things, mainly housework.

How easy it is when one is prone to OCD to fuss about things which have no eternal value. As important as it is to live in a clean environment, some things can wait. Others, such as sharing truths and stories which may impact other lives for good, cannot. It's a testament to my typical fussy anxiety that my thoughts kept straying to my unmade bed, undusted rooms. Would I care though about such things on my death bed? Wouldn't I rather be concerned with how many lives I've touched by telling them the story of how God led me out of gross darkness into His marvelous light?

I didn't exactly begin my day with writing. First I spent time in the Word, feasting on the wonder of Isaiah 45:3:

"And I will give you the treasures of darkness, and hidden wealth of secret places."

What can that mean? I once pondered aloud on the possible spiritual aftermath of having endured such an abusive childhood, to which my friend replied, "It probably means you'll enjoy a deeper intimacy with God than most people do."

Is this one of the treasures of darkness, a deeper friendship with my Creator? Do we experience intimacy with Him in direct proportion to our sufferings? I suppose that's a possibility though it would seem to me that what we do with those sufferings must determine whether or not they draw us closer to our Saviour. If we allow ourselves to become filled with bitterness, then of course that would make true intimacy with God (or anyone) impossible.

I like learning new truths as I putter about my days not expecting anything new or out of the ordinary. I like how God reveals new things to us in the least likely of places, or at the most unexpected times. He at any rate has chosen the good part for it would almost seem, sometimes at least, that He is lackadaisical about unveiling truth. As if He had all the time in the universe in which to do so! The fact that God doesn't force us to open or broaden our minds is for me a source of great mental and emotional security. Nothing is going to be forced on me and when the time is perfect for some new epiphany, God reveals it as only He can: gently, enticingly, so that I am attracted to its beauty with no sense of being coerced into anything. "Look at this," I can nearly hear Him say. "You might be interested in this, I thought it was something that would especially appeal to you."

"But only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her."

May every day bring me closer to Mary like devotion, drawing close to admire and learn from the One who first drew me to Him in the first place.

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