They say that bad luck comes in threes. I am unsure why they say that or who they are, but ok. If that’s true then I am done.
Busted hot water heater. One.
Leaking sunroof. Two.
Vehicle dead in the middle of the road. Three.
All in less than two weeks, so if we’re sticking with this theme maybe I’ve got something else up the road in week three. <pauses. prays.>
In reality I’ve been prepared for all of it. Emergency fund in place just for such a deluge of ‘unlucky-ness.’ Yep. It’s been drained. I think I actually heard it scream for mercy as I transferred the funds out of it to pay for my sunroof repair this morning.
I do a lot of reflecting when things like this begin to happen. There’s got a be a lesson in all the madness, right?
I’ve really been arrogant these last two weeks. Truly. I’ve been acting like these inconveniences have been a personal attack on my busy and comfortable lifestyle. I have honestly questioned why in the world God would allow these things to happen to me. I tithe. I minister. I do good deeds. I should be rewarded and safe-guarded. I should continue to be comfortable.
So, my bestie comes to pick me up (Thanks!) today to take me to pick up Harvey. (That’s my car). And I found myself doing nothing but complaining to her. She was, as all good friends are, a good listener and just let me vent about how inconvenienced I was. I had spent my morning stuck at home car-less and held hostage by the painters who had come to finish repair from the hot water heater damage. As I was talking to her I realized how ridiculous all those complaints sounded when I said them out loud.
“Ok. I’m done complaining,” I said. And she casually changed the subject to remind me I needed to write. She has this way of encouraging me through conviction. I am not sure how she does that, but I appreciate and hate it all at the same time.
I came home to a finally quiet house. I sat in my favorite chair and prayed. I caught up on my Bible reading and of course, because He’s a good teacher, God kept showing me in 2 Chronicles one word over and over.
It’s not a very popular word these days. We believe we are entitled to things simply because we think we are good. We think the world needs our brilliant ideas, our contributions and our time. But let me just remind you of something.
It’s not about you. It’s not about me.
Nothing we do. Nothing we say. Nothing we give or take away is for ourselves. It is all filtered through the hands of our Creator and then turned right back for Him to receive the glory.
So, when I find myself in a flurry of misfortune I have to remind myself that it’s all meaningless if I don’t praise the One calling the shots. I can’t complain about a busted hot water heater if I have been provided hot water, a luxury millions in this world cannot afford. I can’t express disdain for a leaky sunroof when God sent the rains on a dry land and *bonus gave me a reliable car. And I don’t want to talk about the car dead in the middle of the street because honestly, it’s car number four at our house. Four. As in, we-only-have-three-drivers-and-four-vehicles four.
I am abundantly blessed and all I could do was complain.
Father, forgive me.