An Inward Reflection

Monday morning, arguably the hardest of days to get out of bed. I wake up with thoughts about the job: what could happen, what could go wrong, what surprises are in store, etc. I'm thankful for a 1pm-8pm shift that allows me to awake around 8am and devote my morning to read, meditate, and prepare for the day ahead. I'm an Area Manager with the company now, so my responsibilities have increased; this job teaches me leadership skills day-to-day, whether by experience or via studying my bosses and how they handle certain crises or situations. I saw this quote on Twitter (I forgot who it is attributed to): true leadership is measured by how well things are being run when you aren't around. God is building leadership skills in me for His purposes; what the future holds I don't know, but in the mean time it is being faithful with my job, church responsibilities, finances, and the metamorphosis of my character.



The times in my life where I am most disappointed is when I plan for the future, go for it, and then God shuts the door to it. This has happened in numerous areas of my life: career, relationships, living, and more. It feels like failure: putting my whole heart into achieving a goal, and then what was seemingly a detour or two along the way actually turned out to be a dead end--like painting a picture that gets rained on, or constructing a building that gets toppled, or pursuing a woman to marriage that rejects my very heart. With this comes pain, confusion, sorrow, and sometimes bitterness and discontentment.

Reminder: this blog is surely entitled Reflections of a Ransomed Soul, so this is inward contemplation: a spelunking through the cave of my soul trying to find the light of Jesus to shine in this dark place. Father, why must all of this hurt and pain weary my soul? At times I want to throw my hands and say: "What's the use?!" Though I know your Gospel promises can be claimed as my very own, sometimes I have to be honest with what is dwelling inside before these promises can make their roots even deeper. These things do hurt; while Romans 8:28ff are a delight to read, I've noticed that if I'm not truly honest with what is happening deep in my soul, I skim over this text and it stays in my head rather than outpouring into my heart. And this truth is what causes surrender every time: I'm a branch--not the vine or the vinedresser of it. I know in order for me to grow, the Father must cut off anything he deems necessary for my growth. He will not allow me to decay, and I must abide in the Branch otherwise I will be cast off. I know I seek after things and you redirect me, but will you please grant me faith to trust your heart that is directing your providential hand in my life?