Yesterday, I was in full-on whining mode with Barry about how nobody listens to me at work. I’ve been smarting from a dismal workplace reality: You may have (or think you have) knowledge, insight, wisdom, experience, and talents that could solve real workplace problems. But the sad truth sometimes is this—nobody cares! Because I’m in a creative job, people often look at what I do as "fun" and—worse—they figure they can do it better. (How hard can it be if it’s so fun, right?) So you get to listen to people hurl insults at your best efforts and proceed to take over your fun job, because it can't be that difficult. Ouch. (I need some serious chocolate. You may want some too. I warned you this was some serious whining.)
Then I read my little email devotional for today.* It focuses on some remarkably specific instructions that God gave to David as he approached a battle. (2 Samuel 5:23, NLT) The writer of this devotional notes how David had learned from a lifetime of experience to seek God’s advice and, more important, to act on it. Though David was a proven and remarkably capable leader, he recognized God as the ultimate source of wisdom. Logically speaking, David had excellent reasons to rely on himself. He had a stellar track record! But he didn't rely on his accomplishments or his own strengths. Instead, he doggedly pursued God's council, and then he humbly obeyed it.
How gratifying that must be for God! I wonder how often God looks at us and shakes his head, thinking, “I coulda told you! But nooo--did you even ask? Don’t ask me! I’m only the ruler of the Universe!” How delighted God must be when we actually seek out and listen to his advice. Parents, how nice would it be if your kids actually sought your wisdom and experience once in a while?
My kids--asking me for advice? Never!
So, while I may be left feeling that my "brilliant" insights and skills are not always valued, I have gained the tiniest glimmer of insight into how God must feel when I go about the daily business of life without ever consulting Him for input. And when I do, I often ignore the nudge that tells me to “turn here,” or “wait," or "better not do that," or "go now!" What makes me think I can ignore the Architect of the Universe? I usually wave him off, saying “I’ve got this, God! You just go back to your world-ruling thing." The truth is--I'm not God, and my input really may stink, but His is priceless and deserves my best "sit up and pay attention" attitude.
