“They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone….”
Ouch! I dashed my foot against a stone! What does that mean!?!
She really does try, but some days are just not as easy as others – like today.
Limping, she hurried to her cubicle, intent on examining the extent of damage done by the silly stone to her little toe. It hurt like it might be broken. She would pray that it wasn’t, but the Word of God about dashing your foot against a stone had still been on her lips before she dashed her foot against a stone – what other kind prayer might be made in this situation?
And what could it mean, that she would dash her foot against a stone while confessing God’s Word that said she wouldn’t? – on her way to a job she had been begging Him for years to save her from – while wearing shoes she hated more than the cubicle she might have to sit in for the rest of her life.
Yes, she hated that cubicle more than she hated her life – the darned thing felt more like a prison than an office – what with the lack of proper ventilation, the depressing colour it was painted in (what do you get when you mix a really dirty shade of brown, and the gloomiest shade of grey? – the manager had said it was a gift to the company by one of their clients, and it was saving cost to use it), and then there was that thing they hung on the wall. They said it was art, but really it was everything else but art – it was an instrument of torture tormenting her with eyes that mocked her and reminded her of how hopeless her life was. (She tried to cover it once, but the manager said it added to the aesthetics of the space, and it was a gift to the company by one of their clients).
Hopeless was what this situation was – she had come to that conclusion earlier, after salaries were cut so the company could employ more sales people.
She came to that same conclusion again today as she sat in her chair (If you could call it that! The whole thing was falling apart, and the manager had said they couldn’t afford another one now).
So there she was, sitting in that thing she could fall and break her neck from, rubbing her little toe that hurt terribly from dashing her foot against a stone (While God’s Word that said that wouldn’t happen was still on her lips).
Without doubt, her situation was hopeless – as was her life!
OK, maybe not completely hopeless yet – her life, that is, but she was well on her way there. And it didn’t make any sense because she was a Christian (At least she was supposed to be).
She must be doing something wrong. Or she just doesn’t get the Christian life yet.
Or could it be that she’s not even a Christian, and she doesn’t know it?
Because this whole thing is not working for me yet. And I think I still believe.
“You should pray”. She didn’t think that thought, but it came from the depths of her being. Other times it says to her, “You should read your Bible”.
She would do these things if the thought would come to her at times that were not as inconvenient as now – because what would the manager say if he came in and saw her praying instead of putting the final touches to their presentation to the board in this morning’s meeting? (Never mind that even she hated the proposal – it made no sense, solved no problems, and was a colossal waste of time).
But still –
What would the manager say if he saw her praying now? She hated her job, but she didn’t want to lose it (At least not yet) – because, what would she do then?
Her little toe wasn’t getting better. She’d put ice on it, but it still hurt and was now swollen.
And then she realized she’d left the last two pages of the proposal at home.
No problem. She’d just print them out again.
She turned the computer on. Nothing happened.
She tried again. Still nothing.
She called the engineers. No help there. “It would take a while”, they had told her.
She didn’t have that much time.
And she couldn’t go back home to get the papers. Without traffic, it would take at least an hour – and by now it would be a gridlock out there.
And the meeting was scheduled to begin in twenty minutes.
“Never take work home, unless you can give us what we need, when we need it”, it was the manager’s voice in her head. She was trying to think, but this was making it hard.
“I forgot is not an excuse”. It was still the manager’s voice. And it was still not helping.
As was the throbbing in her little toe.
Her phone began to ring. It was her secretary. There had been a mix up with their recent order. The vendor had brought scented papers, and they were pink.
They were not the kind of company that used pink scented papers.
And everyone knew where the buck was finally going to end up.
She wasn’t ready to deal with that (Because how was it even her fault? How was everything else she had been wrongly blamed for, her fault?)
“…out of their belly would flow rivers of living waters”. This must be what that Scripture means, what she was feeling now. There was no other way to explain it.
She saw the manager walk in. He looked really ticked off. She saw him talking, but she heard nothing.
She was busy – gathering her things, and laughing at that thing on the wall.
Who’s mocking who now!?!
She picked up her shoes. There was no way she was wearing them again – and not just because of her little toe – there was just no way she was going back to this way of living.
She was done.
She was broke, she had no idea what she was doing, and there was a really good chance she’d end up homeless, die of starvation, and have her picture beside the dictionary definition of stupid, but she was done. Really.
At least she could get through today. Then she would worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.
But today, she would go home and pray.
She was almost out of the building when she remembered. She turned around and went back to the manager who was staring at her, looking really shocked (Who would ever know why!?!)
Then she said what she’d always wanted to say to him –
And then just to be clear –
She would go home, pray, read her Bible, and wait for God to meet her where she was.
Or else she was doomed!