Today is the 23rd day of the New Year, and I still haven’t got round to drumming out some serious resolutions.
Perhaps it’s because I generally delay getting back to work until the kids go back to school. I gave up trying to do anything meaningful with them prancing around the house – as I bang on my lap top – a long time ago.
I figure it’s only a few years til they leave the nest anyway, so I might as well just enjoy them now.
So we prance together – if they’re playing, we play together. If they’re watching TV, we watch together, if they’re bored, we whine and roll our eyes together.
But this year their school opened a week late, so here I am on day 23 with but a few token resolutions.
I do admit, though, that I haven’t taken the time to sit at the feet of the Lord, and really hear what He would like me to do this year. On account of that prancing.
I’ve appreciated the importance of this for some time, having learnt a powerful lesson from the Lord a few years back.
New Year’s Eve 2010, it was, the night before the Millennium danced into its pre-teens.
My family and I were on holiday with friends – a big old gang of life-long pals and their numerous, boisterous offspring.
And, as many other families do, we had set out to celebrate 31st December with as much merriment as we could possibly pack into the final hours of the year – copious amounts of delectably unwholesome food, drinks – some healthy, some..uhm.. not so much – and plenty of guffaws.
Not all of us knew the Lord back then, Brethren, be nice.
I had been sensing the presence of the Lord all day, however, and could feel His deep desire to be welcomed into our midst – His hope that we would share our joy with Him on that special day. Talk with Him, celebrate with Him as our Father and the very Giver of our lives. And that of our children too.
He was all around us, and every so often I would find my eyes brimming with tears – warm, hungry tears that sprung from deep within me, as my spirit sensed the pull of its Maker.
And throughout that afternoon and into the evening, I sensed, in my spirit, His silent plea:
“Won’t anyone spend some time with Me? Is there no-one here who wants to be with Me?”
Oh I was shaken, so desperately moved by this heartfelt plea!
So I stole several moments throughout the day, just to kneel at His feet, alone in my room, and soak in His wonderful presence.
He was right there with us, willing to spend time with whoever would seek Him that day, and I found myself constantly drawn back to His feet.
And later that night, as the clock finished off the last few seconds of 2010, I joined in as the party happily ushered in the New Year:
“10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1.. Happy New Yeaaaarrrrr…!” we screamed in delight.
And then we checked our phones fasta fasta, lest we miss out on the ongoing cyber-fest.
And, at a few minutes past mid-night, we finally paused the revelry long enough to offer the obligatory prayer.
Which took exactly three minutes.
Dear Lord thank you for the past year.
Dear Lord thank you for the new year.
Dear Lord please do the following in the new year.
Dear Lord please remember those who need such and such.
In Jesus Name we pray, Amen.
And then back to 2011:
Happy New Yeeaaaarrr…!
But as we prayed, the Spirit of the Lord spoke to me:
“My Presence” He said, “is much like salt. You get the best of it when you stir it into your food as you cook. If you pour it in at the table, as you eat, the result will not be the same. You will have missed the fullness of its flavor.”
I understood. Three minutes.
And this morning, Brethren, I’ve been reflecting deeply on these words, as I think about my plans for the year. I have kind of a big picture, but I don’t want to commit to anything that does not align with the Lord’s purpose for my life. It’s simply futile.
As they say – Man plans, God laughs.
Which I suspect comes from these words, from the fourth chapter of the book of James:*
“Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to such and such a city, spend a year there, buy and sell, and make a profit,” whereas you do not know what will happen tomorrow.
For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away.
Instead you ought to say, “If the Lord wills, we shall live and do this or that.”
I need that Salt, methinks.
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