I heard a good word this morning. And I was trying hard to hold onto it.
But the devil was in the details, friend.
The new puppy decided to take a stroll around the pasture for the 3rd (third!) time today. I spent all day rearranging furniture in 3 (three!) rooms of the house in order to make space for two new to us loveseats coming via Craigslist. The lovely gentlemen on the other end of the agreement decided to sell them out from under me.
Did I mention I had rearranged THREE rooms?
And the little things kept piling up. Kids arguing over nothing. Sticky sweet watermelon juice spilled all over the floor and the counter. Sighs galore from my lungs as I wiped up my floor along with my broken first-world second-hand Craigslist dream.
The day started alright with space to breathe, country air, and truth through words in the form of an online media space by my church. Catching up on sermons due to travel had planted a good word deep in my soul that morning.
I carried it with me like a mini farmer carrying a new peep. Carefully. Tenderly. I let it bring a spark to my eyes and a lightness to my step. The words carried from the pulpit a few weeks ago, transported over internet waves, sank deep into the soil of my soul.
It was good stuff.
Even better than donuts.
(That’s saying a LOT.)
But as the day wore on, the details piled up. The words spoken over my soul that morning started to vanish like the morning fog. Dog ran away? Frustration and fear spoke louder than faith. Craigslist default? Disappointment gave way to anger and anger eroded any remnant of empathy. Kids arguing? Watermelon catastrophe? I took these incidents and let them define my identity.
By mid afternoon my house looked like we were getting ready to move, the puppy was confined to his kennel, the kids were playing the newest video game called “Clean Those Bathrooms” (Rated E for Everyone), and I was ignoring sticky floors and looking longingly at the hammock over a pile of laundry that rivaled small playground equipment in size.
And somewhere in between the shirts and the socks, pushing through pity and frustration and anger, words from the morning started to tiptoe their way up through the soil of my soul.
As the silence sat in expectation around me and the folded laundry started to outweigh the unfolded, I closed my eyes and let the words of truth wash over me.
I am not defined by my circumstances. The derailed details are part of life. And in the midst of it all – hallelujah is happening (with and without watermelon juice).
As the toilet brushes quieted, the mini-farmers came down to finish the laundry pile, and the puppy’s sharp bark brought me back to the present – I let air fill deep into my lungs. With a spark in my eyes, I pointed to the hammock. And without further ado, the mini farmers and I raced out of the house to start the afternoon afresh.
And those loveseats? Well, let’s just say that I chose to view the rearranging of the rearranging a workout experience later that day.
The devil will not sit in my details, friend.
Want to hear truth spoken to your soul? Check out the message from our church titled “Identity” here.