answered prayer, wrong day…

Yesterday  when I woke up it was Saturday.  In case you aren’t aware, Saturdays normally belong to me.  It just works better that way.  I make plans and I get stuff done. Please, I’m begging, don’t mess with my Saturdays.  Ever.

So, yesterday…  It started out fine, but by lunch time, things were coming unglued.  And by unglued, I actually mean, Michael had an accident and we had to go to Doctor’s Express to get a bad cut dealt with.  He sliced open the top of his left index finger.

Here’s the thing : on a normal day, my prayer life might consist of asking the Heavenly Father to administer growth in my heart.  “Help me to be more like You,” I pray often.  “Let my life show Your fruit!”    But it is impossible to pray that prayer and know what you’re asking for…  I’m never prepared for how He will answer.

As we sat in the waiting room for a physician to look at Michael’s finger, I could feel it happening.  Patience was slipping away.  And all sympathy or concern was passing, and being replaced with selfishness.

I might as well have told God in my completely self-absorbed way, “Listen, I know what I asked for, but I didn’t mean on my Saturday!”

The truth is, I’ve never resembled Jesus when it comes to showing lovingkindness – My attitude is more like this:  “Oh! You’re hurt?  I’m so sorry!  Now, lets get on with things.”  And every time I’m given the opportunity to allow fruit to develop, I destroy it!  Especially yesterday, on my Saturday, when all I could do was think:  “Look, honey- It is Saturday!  I don’t have time for this!  I’m sorry you almost cut your finger off – but I have stuff to do…”

Oh, I realize it sounds ugly – but I’m not good at compassion some times.  I can be, if it is convenient for me.  And even as I type these words, I’m aware (again) of how sinful I am.

Last night, when it was late and dark and rainy and cold, and we realized we were out of bandages that we needed to wrap Michael’s finger, I made a run to Walgreen’s.  For some reason on that drive, I was reminded of the Scripture from Isaiah 53:

But He was wounded for our transgressions,
He was bruised for our iniquities;
The chastisement for our peace was upon Him,
And by His stripes we are healed.

His death on the cross, bearing every sin, allows Him to understand each one of us deeply in a human way – whether death or suffering or sin or sickness –  It was all laid on Him to experience.  I will never be able to understand or care for my loved ones to this degree.  It is impossible.

But, here is how that Scripture can change me: The more I focus on His complete sacrifice, the less my selfish motives make sense.  And, the more I allow His great love to sink deeply into my heart, the more love I will be able to offer others.    Maybe when this truly happens, someday,  I will be less interested in my prayers being answered on the right day, and I’ll welcome Him to work in my heart on His terms.