
My mind has been constantly trying to come to an understanding of the different events that occurred this past week.
This last week was just one of those terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad- weeks...at least from a human perspective. Not one thing in particular...just an awful combination of so many things...
Yet in the culmination of such frustrating events, I recognize the hand of God.
I know that when I encounter circumstances that are beyond my control, I am forced to acknowledge that I cannot control anything.
I know that when people hurt or frustrate me, I am forced analyze why I'm bothered...and then I remember that there is only one person that should be sitting on the throne in my heart...and it can't be me.
Lastly, I know that in circumstances that were so delicately crafted to quite possibly discourage or defeat, my foundation is strong.
Yeah...it's been one of those weeks.
One of those weeks where God reminds me:
He's the Potter...I'm the clay.
He's the Vine...I'm the branch.
He's Alpha and Omega...I'm a vapor.
He's Faithful and True...I'm...well...I'm Gomer.
I was teaching today about the life of Joseph. I used an illustration I had heard in a poem about a tapestry. I explained that Joseph didn't know how all the events in his life fit together. He didn't see the grand picture. He didn't know when he was sitting in a prison falsely accused that in a few years he would once again be second in command. God looks at the events in our lives and sees a a beautiful picture. We see the underside of a tapestry...strings out of place...sometimes a knotted mess. One day, we'll see the full picture. But for right now, we just see bits and pieces. As I got the words out, I realized that perhaps I was the one that needed to hear that the most.
So I dug out the poem(ok, I really just googled it)...great reminder.
The Weaver
My life is but a weaving, between my God and me.
I do not choose the colors, he worketh steadily.
Oft' times he weaveth sorrow, and I in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper, and I the underside.
Not till the looms are silent, and the shuttles cease to fly.
Will God unroll the canvas and explain the reasons why,
The dark threads are as needful in the skillful Weaver's hand,
As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.
Author Unknown