"Resistance is futile." Not only is this true of the Borg in Star Trek (for all you nerds that can track on me with that one), but resistance is futile when it comes to God.
I was reminded of this last night, as all of the nightly duties of putting young kids/crazed monkeys to bed was. I was strolling down the hall, trying to think of a way to both get out of doing the dishes whilst not bathing, tooth-brushing, reading, praying, singing, leg-massaging, coaxing, pleading and begging my children for the love of my earthly sanity to just go to sleep!
It's around this time in our nightly routine (after the begging bit) that they ask me to get a glass of ice water from downstairs. I ask if water from upstairs would work. Of course not, it has to be ice water from downstairs. So like a grizzled and hardened mountain climber, I set my jaw and produce one last herculean effort, just to see them take one swig, roll over and go to sleep. Kids, you've got to hate them sometimes, even if you love them.
Well, imagine this, last night I was very, very hesitant to ask God to give me willingness to help in this whole circus we call putting the kids to bed. Since he's really been answering prayers these days, I really didn't want to ask. But I did, with sort of a soul cringe.
Not my will, but yours be done... So I asked, and guess what, he got me through, with minimal brain-trauma I might add.
And then after I had crawled, wishing I had one of those harness things that super-obese people use to swing myself into bed, I read this line out of "The Valley of Vision" (a book full of Puritan prayers): "Let angels sing for sinners repenting, prodigals restored, backsliders reclaimed, Satan's captives released, blind eyes opened, broken hearts bound up, the despondent cheered, the self-righteous stripped, the formalist driven from a refuge of lies, the ignorant enlightened, and saints built up in their holy faith. I ask great things of a great God."
And you know I'm thinking, "Amen."