Today I was painting - a water color and acrylic piece - that I've been working on for about a week now. The piece has a recipient and I'm excited to get it to them, but I keep having to wait for paint to dry. Feels a little like waiting for water boil ... something about a watched pot ...? That's how I feel waiting for each layer to set and hold up so I can work a little more.
A little more, a little more. And because of how I paint I typically don't have the end goal in mind. So as I'm waiting for the paint to dry I'm also waiting to see what it becomes - and in my excitement I get impatient. I want to jump to the end so I can know the outcome. I want to see the finished product. I want to know what's ahead so I can maneuver; waiting isn't apart of my plan.
Like my painting process, Jesus waits for us to set and hold so he can work a little more. If I rushed ahead (like I'm often to antsy to do) all the colors would blend together and become indiscernible. They would become mud on my palette. Jesus, lovingly patient and so not in a rush for our transformation, lets each layer of change, growth, or pain to set or heal so he can work a little more. He knows working ahead of what we can handle would do more damage than good. So he waits. He works a little. He waits again. Each time inviting us into the process of transformation; his desire is not to do to us, but with us as we surrender to the work of his hands to make us who we most truly are.
How are you sensing God's invitation to you today?
Is it to rest and heal? Perhaps it's an invitation to take a risk or make a new move. Maybe it's a call to sit still and listen.
May you respond with courage to the invitation of God in your life today, wherever you are and in whatever way you are able. And may you remember: one small step today is enough; God can work with that.