common grace ministries
home WHY connect
be say
Common Grace Diaspora
From 1998 to 2008, CGM

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

God Likes It When I'm Humble

       I’ve used this quote from a poet, Cheyenne Gallion, quite a bit lately due to a series of unfortunate events, all of which I will not divulge here.
       We spent most of January scrambling to get our Honda fixed (hit and run in November) so we could get it inspected before the end of the month. Chris and Craig replaced a fender and light casing and also discovered our frame was bent. They used a wench to pull back into place and Voila’ inspect able car.
We felt blessed.
       Two days later, Chris borrowed his mom’s car, so I could use ours, and he received a ticket for no inspection on HER CAR. She had been so busy helping her mom care for her step-dad during an illness, she’d forgotten.
       A week later a hose disintegrated on our car so Chris pulled over to a gas station. He left the car, and rode his bus to the job, waited for me to come get him. We had a beer and hot dog in the parking lot and commenced to fixing the little booger.  Twenty bucks for a hose didn’t seem bad, but then we were able to help a nice stranded woman out, and she ended up giving us our twenty dollars back.
      We tried to refuse, but she insisted. Her husband had recently died and since then, she said  “It has been one thing after another. Please let me bless you.”  I like the supernatural-ness of mutual blessings.
      Later that night, after a party with friends, we headed to the store for some school supplies,--me in Chris’ mom’s car, Chris following in ours-- when I saw him get creamed by a huge truck, that never even slowed down, just kept driving like our Honda was a mayfly or something. 
      Chris, aka Crash Knievel, was fine. This made his fifteenth wreck, eleventh one that was NOT his fault, and third hit and run.
       We were upbeat that night, even though we felt weird.
      "What is God teaching us?" we asked aloud. “Are we missing something?”
       It has been our experience that just when we are on the precipice of major movement  in our lives we’ve been thwarted by distractions, some of our own making and some not.
       Many people look at these situations and say, “How unfortunate. How unlucky.” We used to say that, but not so much anymore.
       We’ve seen what the work of our hands can do--some impressive, fruitful stuff; some selfish, painful sin.  Either way, we’re trying hard-core to let our work be His doing.  Not everyone understands this, especially my dad.
       He wasn’t the happiest man, when we sold all our belongings and cashed out our savings to pay off what little bit of debt we had, quit our safe jobs and move HIS grandchildren into a school bus. How could the kid who had it all together, let it all go?
        Easy. God said so.
        But not everything is that easy. During a still quiet moment the next day, I asked God what I could do. How could I help my husband who was feeling a bit beat down? How could I keep from feeling the same way?
       "I have nothing to offer in this situation, God. What do I do?”
      “Call your dad and ask him to fix the bus.” God says to me.
      “Uhm, that has nothing to do with our car situation.”
      “You asked. I answered. Be humble.’”
      With fear and trepidation, I called my dad, who loves me to death and would do anything for me MOST of the time, but I hadn’t wanted to ask him. Did I mention my dad was a diesel mechanic and the bus hadn’t been running for two months? Did I mention my dad has a really bad temper and that I cringed as I dialed?  I called anyway and he came down that same weekend.
       We had coffee and lunch. He fixed the bus in thirty minutes and he genuinely enjoyed hanging out with us on Jubilee.  I think he might have even fell a little bit in love with her motor and more importantly, it felt like something else was fixed between us all.
       We still aren’t sure exactly what God is doing with us. The hardest part, besides repairing our marriage, has been figuring out what we do now.  And we know our family and friends are watching. They were nervous at first, afraid they wouldn’t see us very much or that we might fall into harm’s way.  They’ve seen us so much more now that we have more time and mental energy. They feel better about us going, even anticipating what might be ahead for us.
        And we are, too. Anticipating. Setbacks and blessings continue to remind us to ask as humbly as we can, without selfish ambition, ‘What are you showing us, God? We want to know the way.”

A nonprofit organism dedicated to
be say do