believing

A day that unfolds slowly, like a feathery morning glory, is a rare treat.

Bacon sizzles and snaps on the back burner. All others are a-bed except for myself and Hubby. He had an early appointment this morning and slipped out without anyone's notice. Creeping around the kitchen is me, myself,and I--doing a little of this and a bit of that, planning menus and looking hopefully through the kitchen window for a sliver of sunshine.

I like mornings that start this way. Although the weather promises naught but chill, overcast, and damp, a new face will grace our table this morning-courtesy of Friend #7- and a riveting book awaits us for our read-aloud. In addition, my recent Bible-reading has given me much to ponder. The act of pondering is one layer beneath all that is on my plate today, and I like that, too.

Sunday's sermons are so rich around these here parts that I can chew on them all week long. Take this last week's message, for example. The text was unusually hefty: the entire 6th chapter of John. I have read and re-read it, thought and re-thought it all week long, with one revelatory passage resounding like a bell in my psyche:

28 Then they asked him, "What must we do to do the works God requires?"

29 Jesus answered, "The work of God is this: to believe in the One He has sent."

As God's children, we should ache to do His will. After all, "Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven" has been incorporated into our spiritual DNA. We train our ears to hear His voice; we exercise our tongues to speak His words. We strive to mold our earthly bodies into finely-tuned instruments, ready to do His bidding. We gladly accept His help to do so, for without it, we are sawdust yearning to be the Taj Mahal.

But in the center of this delightful mix, sometimes I forget to actively believe. And this is why my soul screeches to a halt when reminded what the center of His work actually is.
Believing.
Believing in the One,
the One he has sent.

I don't have a plan for how I am going to believe more, I only know that if I attempt it, He will help me. Out the door I venture for a long walk, armed with a short prayer which is a favorite of mine:
"Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief!" (Mark 9:24b)