I’ve been sitting on this post for a week, half-written as a draft on my phone. I do that occasionally if I don’t feel the urge to go ahead and share something. I’ll shelf it while other ideas persist, and usually when I come back to it and lay the rest of my thoughts down it becomes clear to me why I waited. And so it was with this post too.
I recently found myself calling work to sheepishly alert them to the fact that I would be running late. While most work mornings I find myself in a race against the clock, regardless of the insanely early hour in which I rise, I usually manage to make it to work on time. Sure it’s by the skin of my teeth, and I might have possibly ran a red light or something, but the point is, I get there. On time.
It takes something extraordinary to actually make me late. In two and a half years, I’ve been late for work once, and that’s an amazingly stark contrast to my personal life. In my life of kids, I’m always late. Fashionably, of course.
I found myself Sunday morning heading out the door with approximately three minutes to spare before I might be forced to exceed the posted speed limit to get to work on time, and by exceed the speed limit, I mean really exceed the speed limit. Sorry law-abiding friends.
I got into my little blue, fuel-efficient car and inserted the key in the ignition. I turned it per usual, but that’s when things took an altered course. Nothing. The engine didn’t turn over. It made a weak-sounding attempt, but that’s it. I tried a few more times in vain, but I knew it wasn’t going to crank.
I assumed it was the battery, but didn’t know for sure. I went and woke my husband, and I felt bad for it. He had just gotten into the bed from the chair where he had been with a sleeping baby on his chest. He currently had a dozing three year old in the crook of his arm, finally back to sleep after a burst of tears over me leaving the house for the day.
I explained the situation to my drowsy spouse, and he told me to take the family van rather than him getting up to check the car. He feared waking one child and setting off a domino effect of tears to the other. I couldn’t say I blamed him for that. I said, “Are you sure?” Then I kissed him goodbye while he nodded yes, and I left with their only mode of transportation for the day.
As I drove away in the family car I looked at the clock and realized I’d be to work on time after all. I felt zero frustration, and was a bit surprised at the peace I felt instead.
I had a strong, insistent feeling as I drove away that this was as it should be. I seemed very certain of it in fact. I wasn’t sure if the morning’s events were purposed to prevent me from leaving when I did, and possibly finding harm via a wreck, or if it was more for the reason of me taking the van, and therefore preventing my family from venturing out that day.
Such beliefs in divine intervention may seem silly to some, but at that moment I knew in my heart that this was true. I knew it as surely as I know the sun rises and sets every day. And that assurance gave me peace.
As I drove away, thinking those thoughts and experiencing the calmness of surrender, I realized, this must be how it feels to “be all in.” I was all in, giving my life entirely to God, and trusting His guidance of my life whether it was good or bad, or whether I understood or not. I felt proud as a peacock.
My feelings of pride in my relationship with Christ were only cemented more surely the following morning. My husband went out to crank the car, and it started right away. I knew it definitely would not start the day before, and I beamed inside. Oh God. You’re so awesome. I’m so glad I trust in you.
And so the week sped by as it usually does, with the added bonus of me feeling more swell than normal. But then the week came to a close, as it always does too. I heard rumors that work was doing what work is prone to do, but at a more chaotic pace than average. To put it bluntly, I heard it was going to be hell. Sigh. It was not the bright and shining motivation I hoped for before a long weekend at work.
I found myself filled with dread, not looking forward to work at all, and actually wishing the time where I would crank the engine of my blue car again would not come. I didn’t want to go to work, especially if it was going to be crazy. I loved my patient care, but at the thoughts of an unknown, hectic environment awaiting me, I was less than eager.
As I found myself full of dread, worry, and a downtrodden mood that was multiplying, I began to pray. Was I all in? Was I really?
Deciding to follow God’s lead and trust your life to Him is the easiest, hard thing you’ll ever do. Sometimes I forgot how simple it could be, and I tried to make it difficult by making it a task. Faith, trust, dependence. These aren’t tasks to be checked off the list so I can become a better disciple of Christ. They do require my participation, but when I think it is something that I must solely perform, that is when I fail.
When I can cease to focus on what I need to do to trust God more fully, and instead shift my gaze to Him and His character, I can just be. My wheels stop spinning ceaselessly and I focus on who He is to me, to what He can do.
“Being all in” is like most things. It’s like forgiveness or faith. It isn’t something you can perfect, but something you have to walk in day after day, after day. By looking at what I know of God I can just be. I can just be all in.
What I mean is this. I know He has a plan for my life. I know He has me stationed where He needs me now, and where I can be most useful. I know His timing is perfect. I know His wisdom is infinite. I know His plans are to prosper me and not harm me. I know there is no fear or there is no unknown to my all-knowing God. I know He loves me.
So, I’m all in. It’s not what I can do, but what I know of Him. When I remind my simple brain of this I can find rest in that truth. I can “be all in.” Not by my strength, but by His.
Crazy thing happened after that. Dread left me. Worry dissipated. Miraculous? Yes, He is. But I wasn’t suddenly turning cartwheels about work. Don’t think that I’m being unrealistic. I wasn’t thrilled, but I was content. I felt happy because I knew I was where He wanted me to be. I knew that even if I stayed in the same place or even if I had miraculous changes occur, it wouldn’t matter. I would be happy because I was where He wished for me. I was all in, and that felt just fine.
Sherry Evans says
I love this topic because it allows me to know that being in is a daily surrender! I know that today I’m in. I have turned it over to God for the first time I’m in and know it with a shadow of a doubt. I have decided that each day it is a thought to self. Release my control and let God lead me that’s in for me wherever he takes me I know I’m in. Surrounded with his loving arms taking on a knew day, some easier than others. Thanks so much this speaks multitudes to me! I am happy to say Praise God I’m in. I will return to work in a few short weeks and this will also be yet another test of am I in ! I have the faith today and trust that I will continue to be in. It’s so wonderful to feel Someone carry you throughout it all.
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Thank you my friend!