Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Why'd You Have to Put the Peas in It?

     I still remember the look on Sarah’s pudgy, four-year-old face as she scrunched up her nose and asked in a tiny voice, “Why’d you have to put the peas in it?” It was my first attempt at shepherd’s pie and the dawn of new revelation – that she knew what she wanted, how she wanted it and she'd found the voice to communicate her desires.  
     Since then, I use that phrase when life throws something my way with an unexpected twist. I find myself asking God this question when I’ve plotted and planned only to discover that the outcome includes elements that weren’t part of the equation. I’d love to take credit for being the first to ever find fault with God’s plans, but Adam and Eve trumped me on that one. In the garden, their message to him in eating the apple was the same one Sarah echoed and the attitude that often spills from my heart. “Why did you have to make it this way?” “Why’d you have to put the peas in it, God?”  They had their own idea of what garden life should look like, complete with no restrictions.
     As I’ve shared in earlier posts, we’ve been traversing deep waters lately, and it just so happens that I’ve been simultaneously struggling with God about the “peas” on my plate. Packing up and moving across the world was a step I agreed to, but I had definite agenda for how the scenes should play out , presuming all along that God was in agreement. As Beth Moore says, I thought God and I shook on the deal, but there was only one hand wagging – and that was mine. The plan was one of ease and success – something I considered a given since I’d made so many sacrifices in coming here.
     When the trials started piling up I sat before God with a scrunched up nose complaining about how he’d worked out my situation. “If you’d just not allowed this….and if that would just would go away…..and if I had a little more of this…..I could be happy and be a better witness.” But the more I complained, the more miserable I became. I’ve been a Christian long enough to know that giving thanks is essential to a joy-filled life and that unless I surrender to God’s will and embrace his plans I’ll become bitter and angry.
     I’d like to downplay the struggle, saying that I just relinquished these dreams and prayed the   Lord ’s Prayer without reserve. But I didn't. Instead, I’ve laid on the floor weeping and sat up in bed in the middle of the night with my head in my hands trying to figure out if there’s any other way besides surrender. I’ve come at the situation from every angle, argued with God using every tactic I can contrive, but still he brings me back to the issue of acceptance. Will I take the plate he’s given me, complete with peas and some other items I find distasteful? Or will I stay in a state of anger toward him, refusing to believe he’s got my best in mind?
     This week everything came to a head as I’ve worn myself out wrestling with God. I’m still not happy about what he's asking me to give up – possibly another two years apart from our daughters. I still wish it could be another way. But, I’ve finally held out my hands and offered up an initial prayer of relinquishment which, for me, went something like this: “Lord, I’m really struggling to accept that this can be your will for me, but I surrender to your wisdom and your sovereign control. Even though I don’t understand it, I’m going to trust you and thank you and follow you because you’re good.”
     It may sound trite or even contrived, but surrendering this situation has been one of the most painful journeys of my Christian life. It’s reminded me again that God never promised me I’d have an easy or comfortable life. He didn't guarantee that he’d give me what I wanted or that he'd stop me from facing those things I dreaded most. His purpose was, and still is, that I am transformed into his image. And this change, unfortunately, can’t happen unless I walk through tumultuous waters and raging fires. No matter how much I try to water it down, the message remains the same – it’s one of hope and a future but also a life of sacrifice and surrender. It’s not for me to pick and choose what’s put on my plate but to trust the one I’ve entrusted my future to – that he means it for my good and his glory.
“For I know the plans I have for you, Nancy, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jer. 29:11