In my current period of waiting and transition, I’ve been wondering about what is next for me. What does the future hold? What will life look like in a month, three months, six?
I’m a planner. I always have been. I like to be in control of my life, certain of what is to come. I guess that’s why life is so uncomfortable right now. I believe God has a plan for me, but I don’t know what it is. And lately, I’ve been telling God just what I want his plan to be. I’d like things to work out perfectly: 1, 2, and 3. I know best.
In the first chapter of Luke– one of the four Gospels in the New Testament–an angel appears to a priest named Zechariah. Zechariah and his wife, Elizabeth, were obedient to God throughout their entire lives, but despite their prayers for a baby, they remained childless. (Can you imagine how frustrating that must’ve been?) The angel informs Zechariah that his wife will bear a child, and a very special child at that.
But Zechariah doesn’t believe him. How can this be God’s plan? They’ve waited for a child into old age, and now a baby is a part of God’s plan?
Although the angel rebukes Zechariah for his unbelief, Elizabeth does in fact have the baby they’ve always wanted. They come to find that their child will be an extraordinary man, someone they couldn’t have expected. Even better than they imagined: their son will make way for Jesus.
I hadn’t read that scripture passage in a long time. When I did, I couldn’t help but think of my own life.
My plans are not always God’s plans: I know that. But it was this story that reminded me that his plans are always better than my own.
Sure, I wish God would just go ahead and tell me what his plans actually are. But like Zechariah, I probably wouldn’t believe him.
I’m still in a period of waiting. That hasn’t changed. Patience is still a challenge.
Though it’s okay to make plans, (that’s a natural part of transition) I need to hold them loosely. God’s plan is better than my own.