For the past week, I’ve been working some, resting and playing some, and attending a conference for Disney travel agents. Our family tries to take an official “family vacation” every fall, where I’m suppose to leave the laptop and cell behind, and we all rediscover what we like about each other. Except this year, the conference fell right around our family trip time, and frankly, I couldn’t afford two trips so we combined them into one. On the last full day of our trip, we made zero plans. We spent the day swimming in the pool, going to our favorite quick eatery, making new friends wandering along the beach, and even swinging in the hammock.
(BTW, there is definitely an art to having two people vacate the hammock at the same time. And yes, you will flip out of said hammock before you even realize it. Don’t ask me how I know.)
The day as a whole was wonderful, but staring up at the puffy white clouds against the azure sky, feet in the hammock, swinging slowly back and forth was sheer bliss. Somehow, we’d found the pause button for life.
The morning of our departure, I woke up before everyone else, and I heard that still small voice calling me back to the hammock. Bible and cell phone in hand (for when the hubs texted me to ask where on earth I was), I headed out. The sun wasn’t up yet, and it was just God and I talking about His plans for me.
On the far edge of the beach, a groundskeeper was smoothing the sand with his grater, getting the beach ready for the day, and a song I’d taught the children’s choir when I was their director years before was playing in my head. It’s from Jeremiah, 29:11 to be exact.
“I know the plans I have for you,
I know exactly what to do.
I will work a wonder for your good.
I will listen when you pray,
Give you peace for each new day
Trust in me your whole life through,
I know the plans I have for you.”
Before I knew it, an entire hour had gone by. I did very little talking and a whole lot of listening that morning. Nearby, the sand smoother-outer had inched his way along nearer and nearer, to the very edge of the beach where I was. All the footprints in the sand, all the divets and holes dug by people the night before were smoothed away, leaving a perfectly pristine surface.
And that’s when I smiled and realized that’s exactly what God does when we aren’t looking.
He takes our sin, smoothes it out and creates a brand new life for us.
He takes our mistakes, our holes, our divets, fills them up, and helps us start fresh.
He takes our plans that we make for our lives, shakes them up a bit, teaches is to trust Him, then gives us back those plans, 1,000 times better than something we could come up with on our own.
He gives us a brand new day, every day, no matter how badly we messed up the day before. He smoothes it out and gives us a chance to get it right. He is Grace in its holiest form, not just cleaning up the messes we’ve made like a groundskeeper. Giving us unearned mercy, not because we deserve it, simply so we can have that chance to walk along that new pristine beach with Him. Forgiven. At peace. Resting in the only one who can smooth out life’s chaos, refresh and renew our spirits.
Are you looking around at all the divets, holes, and sand traps left from unfulfilled dreams, mean people, or just plans that didn’t go… well… as planned? Don’t look at what is wrong with where you are… Your holes and divets. Instead, focus on the One with the reset button, the groundskeeper of your life, who can smooth it all out and make everything new.
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