Yesterday afternoon I was so exhausted, but instead of taking a nap, I found myself cleaning up chicken poop. I was reminded of this…
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It all began with that ridiculous poop post.
I can’t pass a piece of trash on the sidewalk without remembering this:
A man was walking along the sidewalk just as a flashy sports car was pulling up at a traffic light. The man in the car finished his soda and tossed the empty can out the window into the ditch. The man walking, a Christian, continued across the street and thought to himself, “What kind of jerk throws his pop can out of the window? That’s what sin does!” Immediately he sensed God’s voiced prodding heart: “Sin throws out the pop can, but grace stoops down and picks it up.”
God had brought this story along my path when I’d refused to pick up the poop. Someone else’s dog poop, mind you. But God bent me low with those words, Grace Picks Up The Poop, and He taught me to stoop down more often than before.
But, really? Do I have to always be the ridiculous person picking up trash?
This time, the lesson was different. I was out for a run. My legs burned, every step was a chore, but I’d finally reached the long downhill leg down Main Street. Yes! Finally! I cruised down the hill running fast and, if I can be so honest, had just passed two other runners and was feeling pretty good about myself.
Then I caught sight of it–the crumpled Dorito bag.
I ignored it. I’m running! It’s not like I have a bag to put the trash in. I kept running.
The conscience nagged. I kept fighting, farther and farther down the hill I went. This is ridiculous. It’s a little Dorito bag. I am not stopping, losing all momentum, and running back UP the hill to get the stupid bag. Besides, those people I passed will think I’m crazy. Isn’t it someone ELSE’s turn to pick up some trash, for crying out loud? I kept running, justifying. But God, I need to save my energy. I’m so tired and if I turn around and run all the way back up that hill to pick up the trash, I’ll be so tired.
But as I kept running, I felt more tired than ever and it struck me:
When I disobey I’m drained. When I run away, I’m running away … from Him. His love. His power.
HIS energy.
Our lives are made up of a million little choices. We’re always walking–or running–to or away from God. The most trivial–trash–turned my heart around.
I stopped.
And as I turned around, eyes spotting the tiny Dorito bag up the hill, I began to run and to my surprise you know what I found?
A burst of energy.
My legs felt lighter, my heart felt freer, I sprinted up that hill with the wind (Spirit?) at my back, ignored the funny looks and bent down low…
crumpling the piece of trash–and pride–in my hand.
It feels so good to obey.
And as I ran back down that hill, the buzz of holy energy lifted my feet, my heart, my spirit.
See, energy doesn’t come from conserving it…
from holding back…
from putting your needs first.
Energy comes from obeying.
Why? Because it’s not that we need MORE energy …
It’s that we need HIS energy.
His energy is the supernatural strength and power that is for us today, that we can only tap into through one simple secret:
Obedience.
In the small stuff. The ordinary things. The mundane moments.
Only the Holy Spirit can speak the specifics to you today. But know this:
Obedience unleashes His energy in us, the energy we so desperately need today.
“…I toil, struggling with all His energy that He powerfully works within me.” Colossians 1:29
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{This tired mama needed this reminder yesterday! Praying His powerful energy for you as we begin our week. Thanks for reading.}