"You begin to realize that you are not in control of anything--that everything good that comes is a gift from God."
My brother-in-law likes to say things like this from time to time, as if he is not sharing a world-shattering revelation. And, since the moment he shared this last thought, I haven't stopped thinking about what it means.
I know, logically, that I am not owed anything at all from a moral point of view because of the state of my heart. Yet, there is still order, cause and effect, or, at least, we'd find comfort in that. We like to believe that, if we do all the "right" things, we should reap all the "right" blessings. Someone who takes excellent care of their car should never have to worry about a flat tire, right?
That's my point, exactly: assuming we are even capable of doing all the right things (which we aren't, by the way), the sinful state of the world can very well flow opposite to what we think it should. The healthiest person you know could get a horrible diagnosis. The hyper-cautious driver can get in a life-altering accident. Similarly, the person who has smoked for their whole life may live to be 100, and the one who drives intoxicated may make it home every night. Perhaps this is why Solomon writes in Ecclesiastes about how meaningless the world under the sun can feel.
What do we do with this, then? It feels heavy to be unsure, and it feels like a setup to be sure.
What we do with that knowledge, then, I believe, is hard to practice and yet uncomplicated: acknowledge each gift for what it is.
I'm going to do my best to paint a picture here:
Imagine you're out to lunch with a friend. You're having a great time sharing stories and spending time in fellowship when the waiter brings the bill. You're a bit tight on money at the time, and you silently hope your friend might offer to pay. Without a second thought, your friend pays for your meal. You're incredibly grateful and surprised by their generosity, and you spend a minute thanking them. The next time you go out to coffee, you do not expect them to pay for that, too, just because they had done it before. Aside from your friendship, you've done nothing to earn a free latte. You, then, are not horribly disappointed when you both pay for your own drinks. Your friend is not wrong for not buying your drink. Furthermore, if someone bumps into you and spills your coffee onto the floor, it is not your friend's fault, nor is it necessarily yours. Sometimes, the coffee is spilt no matter what.
This illustration is meant to show what I think should be our view of our plans. Sometimes, the world works exactly like we think it should. You work hard, so you get that promotion. You eat healthy, so you are healthy. And sometimes, the rug is pulled out from under us, and things feel unfair. A great relationship fails. A hard worker experiences financial hardship. A loyal pet dies young. Worst of all, there is often nothing to blame in these situations.
But the beauty is that, while your expectation may not have been met, God is simultaneously writing a greater story and grieving with you. And if we can celebrate the surprises and the wins we expected, acknowledging them as gifts of grace, we may be better equipped to handle the things that don't go our way.
Recently, in my own life, this has looked like a lot of gratitude. I'm beginning to notice how many gifts I've come to expect that I do not deserve, and that is wildly humbling. It also lowers my expectations, not my goals. I'm still working hard toward the things I feel called to and fulfilled by, but I am learning to follow God's plan and not hoping He will follow mine.
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