Absolutely – what I write is for me. This morning I was moaning about “just going through the motions of my life” and not “feeling it.”
Last night, my emotions of love and eagerness were strong toward Jesus, but so much of my life is not like that. What is wrong with me? What should I be doing? — Echo: I be doing? I be doing?
Much in the Bible gives commands to follow which, surely, I am to diligently attempt to do, but my life does not depend on me. Frequently, we are told that it is God who is able, willing, and even determined to grow us to be more like Jesus.
As I was pondering this, suddenly the piece “Dancing – A Parable” came to my mind. Dancing with Mr. Drill is my attempting in my own strength, to keep whatever law I have set for myself (a list to check off). Mr. Thrill doesn’t show up very often (that’s for sure).
But Mr. Will, a very good dancer and easy to follow, will lead me in my life dance for the King if I diligently (diligently!) let myself be led—depending on and obeying—yes, by the Spirit of the King.
– Jane Freuler
I went to work with a team that danced in honor of the King. My first partner was a fellow named Mr. Thrill, who was a very good dancer, so my job was extremely enjoyable to me.
One day Mr. Thrill did not show up for work, and I had to dance with a fellow named Mr. Drill. After several days of this, I complained to the supervisor, who said, “Oh, no, no. We fired Mr. Drill. He should not even be here. But Mr. Thrill only works part time. When he isn’t here, you’ll have another partner.”
I went back to work, and was assigned a partner named Mr. Will who, in my opinion, wasn’t much better than Mr. Drill. When I grumbled, Mr. Will said to me, “Think about it. You like the wages, and Mr. Thrill is not dependable. You never know when he’s going to show up. So either dance or quit.”
It was true. I did like the wages. Day after day, as I danced with Mr. Will, I discovered that he was such a good dancer, I could quit focusing on my work so much and spend more time watching the King and enjoying dancing for Him.
I seldom come into work and find Mr. Thrill waiting for me, but sometimes I think that if Mr. Will shaved his mustache and took off his glasses, he would look a lot like Mr. Thrill. Sometimes I wonder.
— Jane Freuler
Jello is barking at a fly. How can I pray to the great God of the universe when this stupid dog is barking at a fly.
I sat down in my big chair to talk to my heavenly Father about the difficulties of my situation, the people and even potential threats that I’m facing. I must tell Him about this, but how can I concentrate. Jello, my stocky white terrier, has planted herself, tensed for a fight, in the middle of my bed, which is as high as she can get, to rid us of this dangerous thing.
“That’s stupid. To bark at a fly is stupid,” I yell to try to stop her yelling.
Now wait a minute. Maybe God, My Father, is trying to tell me something. At II Corinthians 4:17 Paul uses the words “momentary, light afflictions.” I have, as my personal Father, the wise and strong God, Who is totally capable of handling anything life can throw at me. The things that worry me do not worry Him. My forgetting Who He is and focusing totally on my troubles is not really praying. As someone once said, “It (my trouble) may be the truth, but it’s not the whole truth.” The whole truth includes the love and capability of my Father and His involvement in my life.
So when I just worry, even calling it “being in the presence of the Lord,” I am actually barking at flies, and that’s stupid.
Thank you, Jello.
— Jane Freuler