First Things First

It’s 6:00 am on a Sunday and already I’m learning life lessons…yes, I’m a bit of an overachiever.

Generally, I am not an early bird. I prefer my inspiration to come sometime between 10pm and 3am; I am at my best when the rest of the world is slipping into dreams. But this morning, for some reason (we’ll discuss that later) I decided to get up. My mind was working overtime, words and ideas pouring in and I felt it would be an inexcusable waste to ignore them in favor of the sleep my body was crying for. So I got up, crept out of the house and headed to Starbucks (they cater to early birds). I was feeling particularly proud of myself as I drove in semi-darkness. I was up, inspired and on my way to create literary miracles. That’s when it happened.

People talk about the ‘still, small voice’, I can say that I have experienced it; the voice of reason that slides in unexpected to warn, to chastise, to encourage. This morning my still small voice sounded more like James Earl Jones…on a bullhorn. As I sat at the light, nodding along to Billy Joel, organizing my thoughts and plot ideas I heard it.

‘What about me?’

Everyone talks to God differently I suppose. Some people are really formal but that’s not how it works for me. I skip the thee’s, thou’s, wherefore’s and shall not’s. And on the occasion when He’s got something to say to me He just says it, plain and easily understood …which I appreciate. So that’s why I immediately understood just where this loud voice was coming from- and what it meant.

It is Sunday morning at 6am. I am up and about, working hard to make dreams come true. I’m feeling proud of myself for my early morning dream chasing. But while I spend this time chasing the dream I have seemingly forgotten the dream giver. I have forgotten to make the main thing the main thing.

It’s not the first time. On most morning, before my feet even hit the floor, I’m already making ‘to do’ lists, thinking about work, and my daughter, wondering what I’ll make for dinner, how I’ll work on the plot twist that came to me in sleep, how many words I’ll manage to knock out today. Sadly, prayer is not always the first thing I do (even if it should be) and God is not always the first person I talk to (even if he should be). And even if I’m fully aware that there is not true greatness or success possible when He’s left out of the equation – there are more days than not when I set off, alone, without even a consideration that the creator of the universe is waiting and willing to go with me – If I’d only ask.

I’ve been given the honor using something I love to touch the world and in my haste (and yes…sometimes arrogance) I’ve forgotten that doing it on my own is not an option. God and I…we’re supposed to be team. But this morning I left him in the dugout and tried to hit a home run all on my own.

Maybe you’ve experienced this…I venture a guess that most of us have. So excited about a grand idea, a dream whose possibilities seem real and endless that you set out alone to make it happen.

Thanks for the idea God, I can take it from here.

This morning I realized just how much folly is in that statement; and it made me sad and more than a bit disappointed in myself. Now there are some of you reading this who may not agree; who may not even believe in God. I considered not even posting this; scared to alienate my audience. But to deny my belief in God is to deny part of who I am – and the source of the dream I cherish.

And so I sat outside the Starbucks, watching the soft rays of light begin to paint the morning sky and I started over. I apologized…I told you, God and I are old friends; we talk to each other just like I would anyone else. And if I had slighted any other friend an apology would be in order. So I told him I was sorry, and that I was wrong. I didn’t just apologize for this morning, but for all the mornings that, in my haste to start my day I forget to acknowledge that He’s the reason my eyes opened at all. I apologized for every time I’ve set out to achieve the impossible and forgotten to acknowledge the Master of the Impossible. I poured out my heart and like a good friend I know He listened; clean slates all around.

I think I’m ready to begin – again, now. There are still ideas and thoughts and vestiges of literary magic playing at the corners of my mind, but now the responsibility to bring them to life doesn’t rest with me alone. I’m a part of a team – and the most important part of that team isn’t me; because at the end of the day I am only the vessel. I didn’t invent the dream – I’m just the one He loved enough to give it to. I didn’t make the plan, I’m just the one He’s trusting to follow it.

It’s 7am and I’m sitting in Starbucks watching the world wake up. My fingers are poised and ready. My mind is open and listening. The star player has been called out of the dugout and I’m ready for Him to bring us in a home run.

Good morning God, what say we do some writing…together.