Thursday, I was listening to a message by Chip Ingram about priorities.
He talked about indicators of out of whack priorities. He mentioned money, but, more specifically, about “things going wrong” (with the car, specifically) and costing money.
Well, it hit me. Stuff had been going wrong — nothing too major, just consistent
Last Sunday, when we opened our new bookshelf, the main side structure was cracked. We had to pack it back up, so I could return it on Thursday.
Wednesday, after work, excited about setting up the espresso machine,
I put my key in the lock. It wouldn’t turn. I had exchanged the wrong key with
my old roommate. I drove about an hour round trip to switch keys.
For my day off on Thursday, I wrote a “to do” list. I felt very productive, pulling into the Honda dealership early that morning, to have the oil changed in Laura’s car. The guy wrote up my ticket, and I started to walk into the waiting room when I realized — I left my wallet on the seat of my own car.
Then, later, I got a call from the body shop where my car was supposed to be getting a new wheel — the tire was bad. $150 for a new tire.
I started to get the hint.
I prayed for the Lord to show me why things were going like this, why little junk keeps happening — “What are you trying to show me, Lord?”
He showed me, Thursday afternoon.
Laura’s car still needed that oil change, and Thursday was the day when we could get it done. I was running out of time, having to pick up Laura from work. Getting ready to leave and worried about the small time frame, I prayed that it would be done in time. Earlier that morning I had moved the passenger seat forward, to fit the shelves, and I knew Laura would need more room to sit when I picked her up. So, before I left, having slid the seat back, I pushed the door shut. I had my keys, and, reaching into my pocket, realized, “I don’t have my checkbook.” Well, I had my checkbook. But not my wallet. I almost went to the dealership, without my wallet, again.
This time, though, I had prayed.
I remembered my wallet, and while I was walking into our house to get it, it hit me: “This is part of what God’s been trying to show me. As if he were saying, ‘You need to bathe your life in prayer — every decision, every action and task, every single day, every moment. Do everything, consciously acknowledging your own impotence and dependence. Make it a priority. Make me a priority, all the time. You need me for everything. You need me for putting together bookshelves. You need me to get into your house. You need me more than that espresso machine I let you buy. You need me to keep your car running. You need me to get anywhere, in any vehicle. You need me, and you need to recognize that you need me. I’m greater and more powerful and desirable than anything you might imagine with that tiny brain. Here is your wallet.'”