Transitions And Popsicle Stick Plans
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
- Invictus
It’s ironic how the words of Invictus match the attitude of a former control freak. I was never in control of my life. I’d like to sit here and tell you I knew what I was doing from day one, but that’s just not true. I’d be lying. Married by twenty-five! That’s funny. College graduate! Yeah, nope.
“Are you engaged to him?” I am not.
I deleted the marriage board off of my Pinterest years ago, thank you for asking though! Ambitions, ideas. A stroke of the paintbrush, signing on the dotted line. Striking deals. Kelly, you silly girl. If only you knew if only you could see what God had under wraps. The undoing of the stubborn will.
A man's heart deviseth his way: but the Lord directeth his steps. Proverbs 16:9 might as well had my name etched in the margin of my Bible. Look at you, girl!
God’s got a sense of humor though. I build these plans up with popsicle sticks and glue, hunched over quietly meticulously working away year after year. Watching the clock, gritting my teeth, tapping my feet. Gone is the glue. The popsicle sticks have long since been thrown away. I threw away the plans and began clinging onto something else white-knuckled, hanging on for dear life. I’m the planner, the builder of the boat. The master of my own ship up and down goes my ivory mysterious steamship steady flying over the crystal blue waves. Can’t you see God? I’ve got new ideas now. Maybe what I initially planned for myself as a twelve year old school girl just wasn’t in the books. And don’t ask me to pray for so and so. He comes from Nineveh, and well, that's just a place I’d rather not revisit.
Nineveh with its mysterious heathen gods and heavy drinking. Unclean sinful living and both feet in the graves headed for destruction. I don’t need those people and their foolish ways. I’ll watch from afar, because isn’t that what Instagram and Facebook is used for nowadays, anyway God? People watching? I could do that. Sit at my laptop and simply log in.
Dance away to your deaths, o people. God will judge. Go ahead God, any day now. Set it all on fire first, you’re good at that kind of thing. A master potter, an excellent designer. You can start again. I’m here waiting. Oh, Jonah, I’m so like you, brother, we could have been friends. So Jonah went out of the city and sat on the east side of the city, and there made him a booth, and sat under it in the shadow, till he might see what would become of the city. {Jonah 4:5 kjv} Me and Jonah. Buddies. Trading jokes. Sitting. Waiting for the world to burn.
But, He’s laughing gently at me, God is.
“Kelly,” He whispers softly picking me up from perch and dusting me off.
“You and your stubborn ways. You and your clenched fists ready to throw the first punch in the boxing ring. I ask you to pray for such an individual and you sneer. I ask you to prepare, so I can transition you into what I have next and you turn a stubborn cheek.
Why won’t you let me finish what I started in thee? Why won’t you let me complete what I began? Must you fidget and be so impatient? Must you constantly question?”
I don’t like the word transition these days. It’s everywhere. Welcoming me with open arms as I meet a friend for dinner after seasons of being apart. Grinning at me with her pearly white teeth as I finish reading my Bible before heading out for the day. , Pleading with me as I wait in line at the bank. My mother’s words echoing in my ears.
“He smiled and took your hand because he’s kind. Kind gentlemen do that kind of thing. Someday some man might do that for you. Best be prepared.”
“YES” transition whispers sweetly in my ears, like a seashell echoing the thrashing of ocean waves on an easy breezy summer night. “Be prepared!” Transition repeats kindly smiling at me as I walk out of the restaurant after a day of eating the kind of thick chicken soup that sits on your stomach for hours long after you’ve returned home.
I’m learning these days, even though sometimes it may not seem like it; transitions can be good. Change can be good. Change is a kiss on the cheek after months of waiting and tears. It’s the joy of reunion after years of quiet delightful anticipation. I can’t run from transitions because they are inevitable and neither can you.
Dear one, I encourage and entreat thee to consider waiting for God as he leads you through the steady dance of transition. He leads, you follow, much like a man leading his wife for the first time as they take their first steps together as one flesh.
And that is you. That is me.
This is Christ leading the Church through this world, though it brings testing and sometimes tears. But this world isn’t our home. We’re just passing through. No fear, as he sleeps through the thrashing waves. If he asks something of thee such as praying for an individual all he asks is your obedience. Obedience is part of a plan we can’t see just yet. No ripping away, or forcibly grabbing for the paintbrush. Patient, He is; our Jesus, our Lord. Gently covering our eyes.
“Not yet, child. Not ready. Go sit. Rest awhile. Wait for me. I love you,”
Not unlike a father who kisses his daughter on the cheek at bedtime after prayer. She told him a secret. He laughed and ran his fingers through her curly red locks.
“Not yet,” He whispers smiling. “Too much too soon much too heavy for you to carry right now, dearest. I’ll consider the matter when you’re older. Go to sleep.”
She giggles, turns her head on the pillow and promptly falls asleep. No, not blindly trusting. Quiet hopeful anticipation. Much like the giddy joy you felt as your bare feet touched the cold wood floors; running towards the tree on Christmas morning, Delight, your fingers grasping cocoa in one hand; and gingerbread man cookie in the other. “This is why mama told me to wait. So I could enjoy.” Childlike faith trusting mama and daddy. Perhaps you didn’t understand when you were five, but you do now, as you sit anxiously waiting for the nurse to finish swaddling your newborn girl.
Transitions like snapshots. Shades of red, emerald, and gold. Seasons come and seasons go.
Ecclesiastes 3:1NIV says to everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: dear girl, dear woman.
If He asks you to wait for Him, it’s certainly for good reason. I encourage you to hold fast as He does waiting for souls in need of repentance. He is the author and finisher of faith and He does all things well. All things to completion! Indeed. Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ: Philippians 1:6 KJV. If He asks you to rest your head on His shoulder as He leads you through seasons of transitions, do it, uncomfortable as they may be. A butterfly simply doesn’t gain wings all in one day. It waits as a cocoon is built. Sleeping in the silk, patient. His day will surely come. And yours will too.
I want to be the kind of woman who believed the promises the King of Kings whispered into her ear long before she even became a believer of Christ who bled on Calvary. The kind of girl who doesn’t quiver or shake at the idea of being used by God. A woman who stands at attention and obeys at an instant instead of stuttering “oh no, not me. Not me, Jesus. That’s too hard. Maybe ask some other woman.”
“Oh no.” He answers back. “Not this job. I didn’t ask him. I didn’t call her. I didn’t ask them to ride those waves of blue. I asked you.”
He’s kind, gently handing the surfboard back to me. “Go, ride.”
Dear woman of Christ King. Do not fear transitions, don’t be afraid to step out into the waves of obedience. Maybe you and I won’t see the fruits of what we chose to believe about our God and what we asked us to do for Him until we reach the streets of gold, but let’s step out and obey Him now anyway without hesitation. Let’s be ladies who had such a strong belief in what God wanted to do in the lives of others; it far surpassed every desire we ever had for ourselves.
Transitions and obedience go hand in hand, and perhaps they are closely knit together intertwined with each God-sized dream inside these heartstrings of mine. But going down swinging while screaming until I’m blue in the face won’t bring me any closer to those dreams or the plans God had for me all along. Faithful trusting, quick to obedience is always the better thing. Maybe it’s time to put away the boxing gloves and just sit at His feet. He’s always cooking up something better. Maybe it’s not microwave timing, but it’s the timing I need.
Seasons come and seasons go. People change, you do too. But God. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the midst of constant unknowns and uncertainties, it’s this. He is God. He’s never changed and He’s never lied. Age to age, He is the same. We can trust Him through the thick of the things we can’t control. And that is enough.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kelly Beth has been a connoisseur of coffee shops, since grade school, and a writer of words for the past twenty. When she's not writing devotionals or fiction, she enjoys video games, and spending time with friends and family. You can read more of her writing at kellydetzel.com