I was mad; really mad; really, really, really mad. Why doesn’t matter. Believe me; I was completely justified, as far as I’m concerned.
I was also on the way to church. Church! Of all places – church!
Only God (and Cowboy and Cinch) heard me unleash my fury. No question, He knew how I felt. No question, they didn’t seem to care.
Being the spiritual giant I am, I didn’t pray or change my attitude in the parking lot. When I sat down, I was still mad.
I curled up my toes in my shoes. It would keep the pastor’s words from stomping on them. My mind said, “Don’t listen. You are just fine. Fold your arms. He just doesn’t understand. This message is not for you. It’s for that guy over there.”
My heart said, “Open your ears. Let it sink in. I’ll take care of distributing it to your life.”
I uncurled my toes and prepared for the pain. I prayed, “God, I know I need to listen.”
“I prayed for an answer and God spoke to me.”
“I didn’t know what to do, so I waited on God. He gave me a peace and I knew what to do.”
“God led me.”
I’ve never said any of those things. I’ve never imagined God speaking to me; giving me peace; or pointing out a direction.
My toes are a little sore, today. My heart is a little softer.