Skip to main content

Immeasurably More....



Immeasurably more... 

Ephesians 3:20 “Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us,”

“Ask” or “imagine”.  Ask implies we’ve thought about and voiced a want/need.  Imagine implies dreaming.  Asking will certainly get off my chest an issue or anxiety and I ask so as not to worry.  Oh, but what I really like is the dreaming.  What if?  What if the sky was purple?  What if we got to live in a castle with British accented housekeepers?  What if every home owned a drone?  That was for Maxwell.  What if Korean was a language option in High School?  That was for SunYoung.  What if, every day, houses stayed magically clean and all children used “yes ma’am” and “yes sir”?  Dreamy, take me away goodness.  

Our problem is reality slamming in the now that we can’t allow our finite minds to relax past our hurling need or screaming want.  We don’t take time to dream. We are charged to the task at hand only to be handed another in which to conquer.  And we do.  We are slave masters desperate to cross off our growing checklist, almost frantic in our focus of getting a job done and doing it well. Inhale. What about the more?  Can we go beyond surviving? God’s power offers more than this self assuring numbness of accomplished lists.  He offers dreaming, wildly living in wish land where fairy tales exist and what we think impossible suddenly becomes fantastically real.  I want that. I want God to take my finite, limited mind, add His power and set fire to my existence.  I know I am asking too little, too focused, too task oriented when I pray.  What would happen if I prayed imagination?  

Sometimes my immeasurably more is my arrival to a knock-down-and-drag-out morning only to be presented coffee and accessible bathrooms, like gifts sparkling for the taking.  Not even kidding.  Our immeasurably more is simply beyond our expectations or imaginations.  Some days, this means it’s a good hot cup of coffee offering a reprieve, a mini vacation, from your crappy start to the day.  But sometimes, my immeasurably more is a unicorn dancing across a field of tulips.  Don’t laugh, I know it’s corny, but when we were five, this was not impossible.  This was a reoccurring thought pattern of beauty, gracefulness, sunshine, and pure happy.  How fun would it be to be five again, to create the picture of a unicorn and a painted field of tulips under its hooves?  I know, I know, impossible, yet this is the feeling that surges when the peace of God’s “more” bubbles up from the void that craves God’s world.  Crazy things happen, perspectives change. Impossibilities are brought to tangible happenings and our imaginations are blown away by what is now reality.  

Let’s ask, as He has directed us to.  And, then, let’s do more.  Let’s relax our finite minds and imagine, dreamily, beyond our task driven lives.  Let’s notice God’s more, let’s give Him credit and then let’s imagine again.  Let God’s power set fire to your existence!

Comments

  1. Thanks for sharing as God reveals to you Jill. I agree that our pace and drivenness to our task or "To Do" lists hinder us from dreaming, listening or even communicating with our God. I fear that the pace we often try take ourselves is to our detriment. Thanks for teaching us that God tells us to stop, sit at the feet of Jesus and dream!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Ed and Helen Zaugg

I have been longing to write this all day.  My blessed grandmother, at the beautiful age of 96, went to be with Jesus last night.  My mind floods with her memories... her and Grandpa's as they were in love, inseparable, and full of life.  My childhood is a weave of their giving and laughing and rebuking and spurring.  I vividly remember going to the nursing home that they owned and having big wheel races, doing gymnastics, singing Christmas carols, and being forced to kiss Great Grandma's cheek and it didn't matter that I was queasy at the thin, wrinkly skin or the odd smell in the room.  We were to honor and cherish and love, beyond appearances and comfort.  At the age of ten, eleven, and twelve, I got to have slumber parties  in her basement.  They had a full basement with a kitchen and a shuffle board in the tile floor.  We were never allowed in the World Relief room, which was also in the basement, where Grandpa and Grandma were forever sorting clothes, making blankets

Wasted Time

Wasted Time Keith Urban drives me crazy with all of his wasted time. I want to buy it back.  I know I had wasted time too but I at least regret it. At sixteen, time was tangible, staring, anticipated yet ticking unexpectedly by.  I didn’t feel time like I feel it now. It just was. I spent it. I almost always had purpose only because I had big goals. I experienced as much as I could in every day as I knew these experiences created parameters around my goals and gave me perspective for the next steps. I wanted to go somewhere, do something, be someone. There was a world to be discovered and I wanted to see it. Explore it. I wanted adventure! Then I was robbed. Robbed of all that expectant time. Wheelchair life is the killer of so much time. My day to day living exhausts me. It’s my morning goal to make “getting ready” happen as fast as it can so living can begin. But sometimes getting ready and a load of laundry is pretty much all I can accomplish. It is my daily frustration and

Grace Filled Gaps

Maxwell challenged me to pick an emotion and an event and just write. I did. This is also something many mommas ask me about - raising children from the confines of a wheelchair. I have the honor to do a bit of mentoring to new injuries in the Twin Cities area, mostly to moms. Moms that find themselves in a strange position going back to a busy life wondering "how". How will this look? How is it possible? I find such blessing in encouraging them in the real, meaningful, albeit extremely foreign contrast to their former lives. Here is my story... Grace Filled Gaps Discovering we were going to have a baby was an unreal joy. Shocked, with a side of smile, is a better description. We were thrilled but had whispered thoughts and hard stares at each other, "What did we do?" My nine months with Cori growing inside of me were fairly uneventful. I was sick the first three months. The second three months, I had nesting energy, nervous anticipation, and water retenti