It's Your Book Now

I've been reflecting on Psalm 139 lately. And when I came across one familiar verse, something struck me. The verse says, "All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." And as a writer/editor, I thought, "Hey! God's a writer!" That's pretty cool.

Today I was thinking about this some more. I recently joined a book club and we read the first book of The Hunger Games. When we met to discuss it, some of the members said at least five times, "no spoilers!" to those who had read all three books.

I started to think about how often I wish there were spoilers for this book God has written called "Ali's Life." Unlike a real book, where we're sure that knowing the ending will the joy out of reading (or watching a sports game on DVR, or a movie, or The Bachelor), it seems like if we could just get a few spoilers in God's book, we'd have a lot less anxiety.

But as tempting as it would be to google spoilers for "Ali's Life" if they existed, I think it would have the same effect as googling spoilers for books and movies we're really excited about. It might eliminate some worry, but it would also take the joy out of the journey.

So I'll just have to trust that the Author of my life is worthy of an Oprah's Book Club sticker and take one page at a time.

Politics

I hear people worry and argue a lot. About the economy, about political views, about all the things the government is doing wrong. About the environment, about abortion, about the degredation of America. About war, about international relations, about the starving children in Africa. About the hidden bacteria in our grocery bags and the cancer-inducing water bottles we drink from.

And for a moment, sometimes I worry, too.

But I always come back to the same thing. We live in a broken city, in a broken state, in a broken country, in a broken world. In this world there will never stop being wars, corrupt politicians, bad policies, and economical concerns. America may collapse, and as hard as it would be to live through that, I think...this is not my home. That's what I always come back to. This is not my home.

This country, this earth, it's so temporary, so broken. It hurts to live through the brokenness, especially when it touches those you love. It hurts to see my cousin deal with the loss of a leg as he sits in a hospital in Germany in critical condition, all because of war.  I can't imagine losing a limb. Aside from the excruciating physical pain, the emotional pain he must be feeling is overwhelming. The wondering about how his life will be different. The memories of what he's lived through. I can't even imagine it. I stub my toe and I turn into a big baby. Losing a limb? I can't fathom it.

But even as I read the updates on his health and pray for him, I hold on to that same thought: this is not his home. It is not my home. We are passing through. We live the best way we know how, to bring God glory, in the midst of a broken world, knowing that all the while, God is really the one in control.

Sometimes that's so hard to believe. But I trust him, I know that he knows so much better than me, and I know that no matter what happens with our government and our world, one day it will all be over. Josh will be restored to a better body than the one that just lost a leg. And I know where I'll be. My hope is not in this world, so I don't worry about all the things I can't change about our country. I do what I can to impact lives for God, and I'm trying to leave the control up to him.