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Unblinking blue eyes, he blurts it out, "I really think He's TELLING me, 'GO to Africa,' on the Kenya trip." What? I know the one he means, the well drilling in Adiedio. Our church is sponsoring it. But, are you crazy?! I want to shout, We NEED you, Craig. Can't you SEE that?! Frown. "You can't jump up and go to Kenya for half a month." Can't this just be a general feeling of us having so much we better give a little back? I was thinking we could sponsor a Compassion child from Africa or something sensible. Now, God's up and telling him, "GO." Is he supposed to be Abraham or Moses? What in the world?
Prayer, the quiet, unimpressive beginning, the starting point, the space in a sentence before a word like terminal, unresponsive, or maybe, Africa. I pull the full girth of my prayers out of calm hibernation, the simplicity suddenly inadequate. I awaken to the possibility: Thy will be done, might not include my will at ALL.
No, thank-you very much.
And then there is the whole issue of flat refusing God. Can you do that? Can you just say, no, I don't want what you have to offer? And, then what? Does he still take care of you? Are you at war? Truce? He sort of does have the bigger guns. Plus, who does that make me if I tell God, "NO."? Unsettling.
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Click here for Pt 4.
Click here for Part 5.