God, What On Earth Are You Up To?

Making room for the mysterious movement of God

I’ve lost count of the times God, like a divine Houdini, has burst out of the boxes I’ve unknowingly put him in.  From my “I will never” to his “until today.” Or the times I’ve been so sure he would choose not to move and he’s been like, “Gabriel, hold my sweet tea.  I’m off to do a brand-new thing!” If he created over 18,000 species of birds and allows snowflakes to form in such a way that no two emerge alike, he’s creative enough to do things differently than I think he’s going to or than he has in my past.

Years ago I remember thinking “I will never homeschool my kids,” which was followed by a decade of doing just that.  And then being adamant, I would never place them in public school, followed by the day I put all four there in one fell swoop.  And I long believed private school was a waste of money to which God would never lead us, until he did. 

You would think I’ve learned the lesson to stop saying “I will never” and “God would never,” and you’d be exactly right if not for my stubbornness and apparent need to repeat the same mistake again and again. A recent example? “I would NEVER put a kid in boarding school – surely God wants every one of our kids under our own roof and influence during these influential years.” Yep, we now have a child in a boarding school designed for kids with developmental trauma and with a staff much better equipped to help them heal than I am. He’s a gracious God, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he sometimes rolls his eyes or grins at my certainty of what his plan is.

I’ve lost count of the times God, like a divine Houdini, has burst out of the boxes I’ve unknowingly put him in.

I’m slowly learning to not only hold people and things loosely, but also my ideas, plans, and predictions. God’s ways and thoughts are exponentially superior to mine. I still see him as with a veil and am amazed at his acts of power and love well beyond my comprehension.  If I was capable of figuring him out fully, He would not be God and I would not need Him.

Matthew 14 describes a time the disciples told Jesus to send people away because it was late, the people were hungry, and they were in a remote place with no Chick-fil-A. Jesus responded, “They need not go away, you give them something to eat.”  The disciples saw the situation practically, with human eyes – a short-sighted way to view circumstances.  Jesus wanted them to look with spiritual eyes and realize God could provide, as he did by multiplying two fish and five loaves to feed more than five thousand people.

Scripture provides many other examples of God’s divine, mysterious movement.  Calling Abraham to sacrifice Isaac after promising to make a nation through him.  Allowing Joseph to be sold into slavery after giving visions of family bowing down to him.  Pausing earth’s clock so Joshua was victorious in battle. Instructing Hosea to marry a wayward wife, modeling God’s love for his wayward children.  Picking up Elijah in a flaming chariot to bring him home.  Leaving heaven’s glory and coming to earth as a helpless baby.  None of these things made human sense, but God’s higher ways prevailed for his glory unmatched by any human idea or plan.

In her book Whispers of Hope, Beth Moore challenges us to “Give God room to be completely creative.”  In our prayers, thoughts, dreams, hopes, and present circumstances, may we give God room in our hearts, days, and plans to move however he chooses.  I’m praying for more faith to stop saying “never,” to believe the impossible, and to eagerly await the unexpected. 

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“God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform;

He plants his footsteps in the sea, And rides upon the storm.

Ye fearful saints fresh courage take, The clouds ye so much dread,

Are big with mercy, and shall break, In blessings on your head.

His purposes will ripen fast, Unfolding ev’ry hour;

The bud may have a bitter taste, But sweet will be the flow’r.

Blind unbelief is sure to err, And scan his work in vain;

God is his own interpreter, And he will make it plain.”

(Hymn by William Cowper, 1774)