There is something powerful about a story. Words put together to communicate life. You can share these mini-works over coffee, around the dinner table, or through the vast advances of technology. You can see them in paintings, sunsets, and pictures.
Sometimes I like to write my own story. Poems, with a little slam. Collages of important impressions. Talking to people.
Then there are times I get a little crazy and try to plan my life out. I structure my ideas like a plot, a path showing which way I’m headed.
To date, God (nearly) always messes it up. Seriously. Repeatedly.
I find myself going one direction and suddenly I’m hit with a 2 by 4, or a wall, or scripture, or revelation and BAM: redirected.
From these reoccurring experiences I see two possible actions: become a better writer, or admit that maybe I love and serve a God who can handle writing my story. If I choose the second, perhaps I’ll discover that God even has better plans than me.