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My Too-Short Arms

Happy new year!!

Yes, I know it's almost May, but this is my first blog post of the year and I thought it was appropriate to greet you all properly.

Anyway, I have been meaning to write. So much has happened and so much needs to be said, but I have been putting it off. Not sure why exactly. Perhaps, I have just been fighting against the inevitable. Actually, that is exactly the reason.

James Weldon Johnson has a poem called, Prodigal Son, where the speaker proclaims that the subject's arms are too short to box with God.

That's me. Desperately trying to spar with the Creator, but my arms are too short. The end result? No punches have landed, I'm fighting the air...and I'm tired.

God's sovereign will is a heckuva thing to come against. So why do we try?

I wish I had an answer for that. Something about the human will seeks to exalt itself. It began happening in the Garden of Eden and has been occurring ever since.

Oh yeah, we sing songs like, "Sweet will of God, still fold me closer to I am wholly lost in Thee" and we pray prayers telling the Almighty that we want His will to be done, not ours. Yet as soon as He asserts His will, we balk and cry and complain.

Or maybe that is just me, so let me speak for myself.

Well, no more! I am raising my white flag in surrender and drawing a line in the sand. This is it. God's will or bust! Who's with me?

Seriously, who's with me? Let me know.

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