Choices

Shep here.

I heard a pastor talking one time.  It was a pastor that I am not particularly fond of listening to.  That is not to say that he is not a good pastor...I feel certain that he is an outstanding pastor.  He just doesn't happen to be my favorite guy to listen to.  Anyway, on this particular occasion he said something that really stuck with me.  If you will excuse the paraphrase, he said something like this,

"You have precious little control over most things in your life.  You can't control who your parents are, who your family is, how  tall you are, how smart you are, what you look like (mostly), weather, who harms you, who helps you..." the list goes on.

"But," he said, "there is one thing that you can control.  You can control your choices.  They are entirely up to you.  You can choose a good attitude or a poor one.  You can choose to doubt.  You can choose to believe."  The list goes on.

So, the other night I was praying.  For whatever reason, I felt a need to pray that God would speak to me.  I felt Him calling me to pray about my dreams.  Specifically, I felt that I should pray that He would speak to me in my dreams.  So, I prayed, "Lord, please talk to me in my dreams." That was about the extent of it.  I did not go on and on or wail and cry.  I simply lifted back up to God the prayer that I felt like He had laid on my heart.  And frankly, I did not think about it again.

I did not think about it again that night.

I did not think about it again the next day.

I did not think about it again the next night.

But...the second morning, I prayed for Zeke, that the Lord would make him strong and courageous and that He would call Zeke, irresistibly at  an early age.  I prayed for Ava, that she would find delight in Jesus alone, and that she would seek His approval above any other.  I prayed for Caroline, that somehow, God would speak to her clearly, and that she would hear His voice, and that the two of them would share conversations in a supernatural way that would bring her unspeakable comfort...

And then I remembered my prayer from two nights ago.  I remembered my prayer because this night I had dreamed of Caroline.  I dreamed that I saw her standing in the kitchen, unsupported, and perfect.  I rushed to grab her, afraid she would fall; but there was no need.  Her little hand was so light in mine, simply holding it, but not for support. And just as pretty as you please, she walked with me into the den to show her miraculous healing to Andrea, Zeke and Ava.  We were all speechless...unable to put into words all of the wonder we were feeling.  And then the dream ended.  I only remembered it as I was praying.

Now some of you are thinking, "Isn't that nice!  You had a sweet dream about your baby."

Some of you are probably thinking, "No surprise there.  You had this idea rumbling around in your mind, and through the mysterious world of the subconscious, you pulled up this thing that you had been really wishing for."

Some of you are thinking, "I wouldn't have thought Shep was such a wacko."

Some of you are thinking that God doesn't speak through dreams anymore.  I have no idea where you get that.

Well here is what I think.  I think God answered my prayer.  You see, there is a choice here.  It is a choice over which I have control.  I can choose to believe that God answered my prayer, or I can choose to believe that my dream just happened with no influence from God whatsoever.  Well, this time I choose faith.

You see, In John chapters 14 and 15 Jesus says multiple times, in various ways, that when we pray, He will answer.  If you read this yourself, you will see that his promises here are conditioned upon precious little.

In Hebrews it says that without faith it is impossible to please God.

James wrote that when we pray we must pray, believing- not doubting- that the doubter is like a wave of the sea tossed by the wind, double-minded, and unstable in all his ways, and further, that he should expect  nothing from his prayers.

I mess up all the time.  I fall.  I fail.  I quit. I snap.  I shirk.  I blame.

But, God help me, I don't want to live a life without faith.

I don't want to get by.  I don't want to just make it.  I can think of nothing worse than getting to the end of my days and thinking, "I never believed God for anything.  I never stepped out.  I was never "all-in."  Whatever else happens I do not want to be counted among the timid souls who have tasted neither victory or defeat.

Jesus died for me.  I think choosing to believe Him is the least I can do.