Some days the words come slow. The brain struggles to develop compelling strategies. On those days, I still do the work. I slog through the fuzzy brain and hope for a day, maybe not tomorrow or even next week, when the words come fast. The brain makes its connections.
Other days, I want to curl up in bed and binge-watch Agent Carter. I don’t. I give myself a right good shaking and say, “This is Sparta.” I maybe kick myself down a well. How I feel doesn’t matter. There is work to be done, and I must do it.
I keep that in mind when the hard days are never-ending. One day, two days, three weeks, four months…Relief is nowhere in sight. I need a break; I need the sun; I need something. I know I won’t find it by avoiding the work, so I work.
I work, and I wait. A good day will come. The Spirit will move, and I’ll catch a glimpse of Him. A friend will say words I need to hear. The sun will come out, however briefly. I don’t know when those things will happen, but they will. I hold onto that certainty.
I return to it, too. I don’t always believe that good will come. I don’t see how things make sense or could possibly ever work, and I panic. I become a whirling dervish with knives. I stop trusting and start doing. I frenetically make plans. I turn inward and isolate myself from others.
When that happens, as it all too often does, the Spirit reminds me of the promises God has given. He says he has perfected me for all time. That isn’t dependent on me; it’s His work alone, always and forever.
I also think of Abraham. He’s held up as an example of faith in the New Testament, but he didn’t get to that point overnight. He failed to trust God. He took control of the work. He lied.
God didn’t abandon Abraham when he messed up. No, God used those things to mature him. Abraham’s faith grew. As it did, he became more capable of doing the work God had entrusted to him.
Abraham learned to wait even as he worked for and followed God. He finally got the order right: trust, then do. Eventually, I will, too.