I know that there are those anticipating my blogged updates from the other side of the planet and the other hemisphere...but I am still north of the equator, this side of the pond. Nevertheless it is due that this dusty blog come out of the coma it went into when yours truly plunged into the deep end of nursing school.
God does not see as humanity sees. (Amen?!) He doesn't plan like us either. Why would you? If your vision was not limited to time and space, and your plans had creative power, why formulate any idea only within the box of here and now? It wouldn't make sense. After all, what kind of plans would we devise?
What kind of plans would we devise,
Who have but mortal minds and eyes?
Who cannot see the greater scheme,
Nor conjure an immortal dream?
How would we plan from day to day
(When we cannot discern the way
That circumstances often take)
And not be left to our mistake?
Whose thoughts can think beyond this realm?
Whose arm can handle his own helm?
Whose goals are broad enough or high
As His whose stars still trace the sky?
Could we record the sands of earth?
Or figure out the code of birth?
Could we design our very breath?
Or somehow stop the work of death?
Then how do we suppose we may,
Now orchestrate ourselves our way
And from a human point of view
Contrive a life that's worth debut?
How can we think that if we could,
We'd work things out just as they should,
Preventing all the bumps and rain,
And getting all we reckon gain?
Do we forget that One whose heart
Has held us from the very start,
Whose fingers fashioned us -the clay,
Is also Potter of each day?
Do we now think that in His hands
Our life's in danger at His plans?
When every turn the Potter makes
Produces what He undertakes?
This is the One who's Authored life,
Who knows the controversies' strife,
Who walked this earth in Heaven's will,
From manger to Golgotha's hill
This is the One whose love would dare,
Almighty bonds to cut and tare,
And God from God Himself to break,
In my behalf, for His love's sake
Then how can we not trust to Him:
The future which we see so dim;
The turns beyond finite repeal;
When they are of the Potter's wheel?
And can we not discern and tell,
That He who "doeth all things well",
Does not forget His chosen clay,
But purposely leaves it to lay?
That through each change the Potter's hand,
May work out that which He had planned
And one day to His Father bring,
A vessel fit to serve the King.
