Monday, October 28, 2013
Stay Out Of The Whale's Belly
For Bible Study today, I read the book of Jonah. To get into a dialogue of how a human survived in the belly of a whale for three days misses the point of this book, so I’ll skip that dissertation and head directly into the it’s applicability, as I see it.
Each of us have a God given purpose. He asks us to complete huge, tiny and medium tasks each day that serve to accomplish His purpose for us. His voice is not audible, but is heard in our heart, or that little voice that lives inside us (mine is located above my bellybutton). He always starts by asking us kindly. We have been given freedom of choice, therefore the option of yes or no is up to us. If we keep saying no, inevitably we end up in a whales stomach, on our knees, praying desperately for God to help us. When He feels we’re ready, he allows the whale to vomit our flesh upon the beach.
Our current journey is not over yet, because we’re covered in smelly, gooey vomit and still have not reached the goal. Out we go to fulfill His request, then we take a shower and slowly we’re back to our wonderful have all the answers selves. The humility we acquired from the three days inside the whale is soon forgotten, and we’re self-sufficient, omniscient beings in no time; until we find ourselves blistering in the middle of the desert. Again, doing it our way and trying to hide from our God. Do we ever learn?
Within the last two decades, God has asked me to finish one novel, two stage plays and a teleplay. This blog is His idea, and I’m supposed to be posting two a week. Every single time I come remotely close to success, I allow fear to take the place where trust should be and run the other way. The embarrassment of, “How’s that novel coming?” from people I told five years ago that I was almost finished, is my current Jonah moment. I see “fraud,” in their eyes as I answer, “coming along.” However, in God’s Unending Mercy, He’s giving me yet another chance, (I think this is 1,284) but I have to admit, I’m feeling a bit gooey and stinky.
Would you be so kind as to join me in praying that two years from now you are rushing to the bookstore to pick up my novel, or attending the opening night of my play? May my name be in lights, instead of on the front page of the paper, “Jenny Albert, gone to sea again.”