My husband is the greatest person known to man. Well, besides Jesus. And since Jesus is actually no longer a man, my husband wins the award. He is the "in-between-laundry-handler" and when a request is made for something specific to be washed during the dirty-laundry-day-purge, he sweeps in and saves the day. He is my ever-after Prince: my king of football jerseys and soccer clothes cleaner; the clothes that we get one pair of, yet have to be washed sometimes sixty times a week during those specific seasons. He is my hero and I have been known to dish out extra doses of lovin's when I can see he is having a busy laundry day because it is not my busy laundry day. Bless him.
The kids know when it is my laundry day and usually avoid me like the plague. At any time, my regular calls of "Kids, come here!" can be met with eye rolls, grunts, complaining, and sloth-like movement upon exiting their locations of isolation where they are sure my pleas to go put up their laundry won't be heard and enter into whatever location I am working from.
Nice try, kids. Be thankful. You have clean underwear. You're welcome.
Maybe it is because I just woke up from a 3 and a half hour nap and am feeling like a reborn person who needs to do laundry and actually has some motivation to do it, but this topic of laundry is not really what is on my heart. A million thoughts were going through my mind as I fell asleep and I just knew that when I woke up, I would produce a piece of literary art that would send PR team to my door begging for my employment for one of their publications, but alas, here I am writing about laundry.
So now is where I try to make a connection between my laundry wars and what has really been stirred in my heart. Previously I mentioned my children's response to my "Kids come here!" plea. It can be met with less-than-jolly attitudes as I have them transport their newly cleaned wardrobe into its designated spots and even though I am doing something to help them (who doesn't like clean underwear?), they are less than optimistic to rush in and take hold of what I have done for them, or why I am calling them.
Let's put the laundry away for a sec (see what I did there?) and get real for a moment. If you are reading this, you probably know a little bit about me. To say that I am a prodigal daughter is very much an understatement. I am sorry to assume that if you are reading this, you know what I mean when I call myself that, so let me explain. In the Bible, specifically Luke 15:11-32, there was a man who had two sons. One son was level-headed and responsible and the other was not; the prodigal son took the inheritance that his dad gave him and squandered it while the responsible son stayed behind to take care of his dad and the land, yada yada. Two very different types of personalities: one good, one bad. When the father learned that the son who has gone through his inheritance by being irresponsible was coming home, he didn't think twice about judging his son, rather embraced the fact that his son was coming home where he could be safe. The "bad" son had done so many things to mess up his life, yet the father welcomed him home for no other reason than he loved him unconditionally.
Much like God, our eternal Father. He loves us. He longs for us to know that and to quit convincing ourselves that we have to do something to prove that we are worthy of His love. We are not worthy, but He still loves.
When I turned my life back to God, a fire was lit. My focus became about God and how He could love a prodigal daughter like me, but I realized that it wasn't because of myself but rather of the perfect love that He had bestowed upon me. It has been roughly ten years since that fire stirred in my heart and I am so thankful that it did. My identity changed and while I will never be perfect, or even close, I am redeemed by God's power in my life.
This girl (me) is a prayer warrior. Not just a "I'll pray for you" kind of girl, but more like a "I'm going to cry out to God on your behalf, things are going to get messy, things are going to get ugly, I am crawling to the Almighty throne on your behalf and I will encounter the Holy Spirit," kind of girl. Don't get me wrong: the world needs "I'll pray for you" pray-ers. (As in people, not the act) The fervent, steadfast, and always-reliable pray-ers have upheld the kingdom of God on so many occasions. James 5:16 tells us that the effective, fervent prayers of a righteous man has great power! Power that comes from God, not from whichever way we choose to pray because He hears them all. I love seeing prayers manifest and used to run around like a schoolgirl asking with anticipation (to the person I had prayed for) how God had chosen to respond to my prayer. Like I somehow had a direct line to the Father or something. At what point did that stop and did I start responding to the Father in the same way that my kids respond to me on laundry day? "Don't they know that I have what they need? Don't they know that instead of worrying about the small details, I've got them covered?"
(Cue dramatic drum sound indicating a sad twist in the story.)
Once upon a time, there was a girl who had a very giving heart that caused her to want to do so much for the kingdom of God that she would never turn a man away that needed help. She lived by the credo, "Never walk away from someone who deserves help; your hand is God's hand for that person." (Proverbs 3:27) She volunteered in her community, her church, her kids' school, anywhere where there was a possibility that she could be the hands or feet of Jesus. She felt called in many directions and every time she would respond "yes" to a new calling, she felt her relationship strengthen with God. But then life got complicated. Instead of responding to the things of her heart, she found herself operating out of the necessary instead of the calling. She found herself getting so caught up with the "must-haves" that she forgot WHO the real must-have was. One day, she woke up to find that although she had not backslid by any means, she was no longer seeking the one who put the callings in her heart. As she sit and listened to her pastor deliver a message on one Sunday morning, she became emotional thinking about how close to God she once felt and regretted taking her eyes off of the One whom had been calling her all along. It wasn't necessarily about where she had been called before, or what her life looked like now, it was about the One who had been calling her and how she had allowed her own management of her life to take over God's direction for her life.
There's good news, though. We change, but God stays the same. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Maybe you are like me and don't remember what you are called to do. Maybe you once knew, but lost sight of it trying to keep up with the busyness of life. Maybe you are still waiting to be called somewhere specifically. Maybe you know your calling yet haven't taken that step of faith. Whatever the case, know the one who calls you. Stay connected with Him. Don't allow the circumstances of life interrupt you from the One who really matters. Don't allow satan to convince you that you are so far away from God that getting back is impossible. That is a lie.
Whether you are a prodigal child who has gone far from Christ or an anointed child of God who is involved in a lukewarm relationship, seek Him and you will find Him. Open your Bible.( 1 Peter 2:9) Don't have one? Let me know. Pray, however it looks. But most importantly, worry less about your calling but more about the one who calls. The rest will fall into place.
