I’ve been begging God for weeks now to let me in on his plans for our lives.

Do we move?
When? 
Where?
If we stay here, where’s the work?
What is the work?
Are we really in the middle of your will right now? 

Stuff like that.

I’d open my Bible and scan the pages for a verse, just one verse that would let me know what’s coming up next. I’d worship and hope for an illustrious vision to open up the answers. I’d write down my dreams and search them for insight. I’d listen for words people prayed over us to see if, perhaps, there’s a glint of divulgence in them.

But there I was, in my bedroom, about to begin yet another begging session with the Almighty, when it occurred to me that I’d been going about this all wrong. A husband doesn’t bug his wife every evening about what she’s going to serve up for dinner. A wife doesn’t bug her husband about exactly how he’s going to mow the grass and exactly what time it will be done. A child doesn’t bug her parents about every minute of time that’s coming up over the weekend. Things happen naturally.

I understand that sometimes God does let us in on his secrets. He gives us details about the timing of things; he tells us where to go, what to do and how to do it. We are powered up and ready, excited because we know what’s what on our end of the deal.

But sometimes God doesn’t work this way. Sometimes he gives us a little hint that something might be about to change, but we have no idea as to the what, where, who, how and why. All we know is that shift happens. And so we wait and listen and whine because we don’t have a clue as to what any of the shift looks like. All we know is that God’s got our back and we don’t need to worry. But wait! I do need to, um . . . never mind.

What if:
we only wanted to see his face?
we only wanted to worship him?
we only wanted to enjoy his company?

Wouldn’t things look a little different then? A child can pester his dad all through December, but deep down he knows that the most he’ll get out of his dad is perhaps a few clues, and maybe they’ll be bad ones, at that. His dad wants the gift to be a surprise. Maybe in this season of change, God wants the newness of it all, when it does arrive, to be a surprise. Maybe he wants our mouths to open wide in stunned shock at how good he is. Maybe he knows that if we have details we’ll try and control the outcome and take all the fun out of the giving.

So I tried this yesterday. I tried just talking, listening, worshiping. It was hard to refocus on him, because, truth to tell, I’ve been more focused on what’s he’s bringing my way. It was hazy, but I do believe that by the end I arrived back at his heart.

Which is where I could have been all along.