Neither of us expected our stories to turn out this way. Our other college friends got married, had kids, and lived in the cities they’d planned on with the jobs they’d hoped for. But not us. God doesn’t have us on the group plan.
Author: Shannon Baker (Gianotti)
For years, I questioned the value of praying for a husband, since I knew singleness could be part of God sovereign plan.
After three repetitions of the chorus from “10,000 Reasons” at church, I’m ready to call a time-out and connect with the maroon cushions, not stay on my feet for another four songs.
I tried to peel myself off the alley as the Spanish words got louder, men’s voices, but my Columbia pants stuck to the dirt. My bones ached and bowels churned. Montezuma was mounting his revenge and it was one of the worst hours of my life.
A stranger’s fingers grip mine. The words reverberate from my throat and into my ears. Liturgy is new for me–but stepping into the same words every Sunday works like a garden hoe on my heart. After weeks and months of hands grasping mine as we pray together, “Our Father in heaven,” two realizations have churned up from this regular tilling of the Lord’s Prayer.
God isn’t waiting for us to master the art of being a Christian—not in the way that we conquered first grade math, said goodbye to our teachers, and could count to a hundred on our own. He’s not expecting for us to navigate the politics at work, without his help. He’s not hoping that we’ll grow our own supply of patience, and not need his.