It took me years to understand the history of Israel, our history. I still am missing a lot, but the more I read and study, the more the string of history, holding together the lives of God’s people, makes sense to me.
The time and place of God’s people in the book of Joshua is what I would label as “penultimate.” For generations, they heard about how God would give them a Promised Land, a lang flowing with milk and honey, He promised to make them a great nation, and that a great King would come from their lineage.
Here’s the thing that would have driven me CRAZY if I were one of God’s people back then: that I didn’t know what the fulfillment of all those promises would look like. Especially once generations and generations were born and no land was given over, a nation was enslaved, and no great King was coming. (They had to wait a reeeeeeally long time for that one.)
At the same time, as I grow older, I’ve learned to appreciate that someone else is writing my story.
I knew, once I decided to enter the ministry, that I would have a limited amount of control over where God would send me. The choices were still mine, but ultimately God would clear the path I was intended to take. I can remember agonizing over the future as 20-year old college girl, desperate for God to give me a neon sign telling me which major to chose and then which job offer to take once I graduated.
And I still wrestle with this sometimes. But I also know that as long as I am not living a sinful and rebellious life – that the choices i make are honoring to Him – that I am ultimately not out of God’s will. For He is planning all this stuff in the background to prepare the way He would have me go.
I want no one else writing my story. Not even me.