Best Worst Case Scenario
I’m thinking a lot about story this morning as I sit down with a cup of coffee and tears in my eyes hours before I planned on getting up today.
The thought running through my head since I stepped out of bed this morning, “Not even good things can happen at a convenient time around here.”
It’s a bit of a struggle to realize that something good, to be celebrated, is an inconvenience. But it is.
How can this possibly work, God?
A month ago when we asked for this to happen it all could have worked, but now we don’t have the physical or financial means to deal with this. It doesn’t look like a blessing now; it looks like yet another trial.
You’ve been there too, haven’t you? The right thing happens, but at the absolute wrong time.
What do we do? Do we embrace the blessing and celebrate or do we focus on the unfairness and pout?
I’m reminded of the Prodigal Son. He wanted the blessing oh so bad. And his father gave him what he wanted. Then he didn’t appreciate it and wasted it on immoral things. He hit rock bottom and came crawling back hoping to be a servant. His brother, however, had stayed and done things right. He had worked beside dad and lived an upright life. Until his brother came crawling back and he watched as his dad not only celebrated his return but provided his lost son with the best of everything on the farm.
Sometimes I represent the worst in both brothers. First I want it now. Then, if I wait to get it later I’m jealous of what others get or that others seem to get more than I do when I did things the “right way”.
Yet God says to both brothers, “I’m going to give you exactly what you need when you need it. And when you happen to get things wrong and finally return to my arms where you belong, we are going to celebrate like you’ve never seen. I love you enough to give you my best. Not because you deserve it. Not because you’ll treat it the way it should be treated. But because you are mine and I love you.”
You see, sometimes I feel like even the most simple aspects of our life always ends with someone saying, “Well, at least you’ll have a great story to tell!” This mornings story isn’t really mine to tell. It will be Cameron’s. However, let’s just say on top of his part it involves a one-armed man who is supposed to be resting, a mostly house dog wearing a pink collar and a lime-green leash being walked (limped) through the woods to do some tracking, by a pajama wearing boot stomping starving mama.
Oh yeah. They just called.
Two injured. One healthy teenager. The thing they were tracking. And they’re a long way from home. Not sure where the closest road for me to come get them is. I’m still in my pajamas.
I suppose we’ll celebrate that the lost has been found. God has provided.