When I was a little girl, I went to a church that sold chocolate-filled doughnuts for ten cents and the services only lasted one hour, guaranteed. I learned about God, but he was distant and mysterious and could only be known through the clergy.

When I met Joe he was well into his sixties but worked harder than anyone I knew. He had that worn-out hunched-over shuffle that made me think he had a hard life of painting rusty ships or old barns. Maybe the natural elements that abused him were menopausal women who wanted their kitchens painted and not the sun’s laser rays. Whatever Joe had faced, he was always kind and cheerful. He was happy to share his painting secrets with me and I was an eager student. He taught me how to tell if the previous coat of paint is water-based or oil-based, how to properly hold a paintbrush, and how to estimate the correct amount of paint needed. Joe used to say things like, “Don’t expect to get a quality finish if you don’t start with quality products.” The most significant thing I learned from him is the importance of preparation. “Preparation is 95% of the job,” he passionately preached as though he was trying to save someone from hell. He probably thought a bad paint job was hell. It’s been a long time since I’ve learned that lesson but I’ve never forgotten it. What’s true of a painting project is true of life: Preparation is 95% of the job.

Although I know this, I still struggle sometimes. I’m a results-oriented type of person. I like to see something tangible at the end of the day—an achievement I can look at and admire and show to others. Most of preparation time doesn’t yield anything with a big happy face on it that I can hang on my refrigerator. Why waste time when I could be doing something important? After all, Jesus just might come back before I have anything to show for myself.

I’m not alone. I’ve noticed a certain lack of enthusiasm for the preparation season in most people. It’s not viewed as a necessary part of achieving something of quality and value. Don and I see this in filmmaking all of the time. Someone gets a bright idea for making a movie and enthusiastically begins shooting. Does he know if he will make any money on his film? No, because he didn’t bother analyzing the script, making a storyboard, or creating a business plan. He sabotages his success by his lack of preparation.

The quality of the preparation determines the quality of the results. The preparation period is so imperative that if it is done well, the final outcome is nearly always successful. It acts as a prophecy of the end result.

Tasks of greater consequence require greater preparation. Jesus was in preparation his entire life for his final day on earth. Although he was a son, he learned obedience from what he suffered and once made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him. Hebrews 5:8,9

That’s thirty-three years of preparation for one day.

Maybe we need to stop being so impressed with our accomplishments and follow Jesus’ example. Maybe we need to stop comparing our achievements to others so we can actually achieve something of real value. Maybe if we humbly and joyfully submitted to the preparation seasons, we could see the kind of results Jesus did.

I have a better perspective now. I understand that to live by faith means that some things I do will never be seen this side of heaven. I’ve also come to realize that impressing others with my accomplishments isn’t really productive, but impressing God is. I want to see my work on God’s refrigerator with a big happy face on it and hear him say to me, “What a great job, Christina”. And I’m preparing to hear that.

As I grabbed my Bible this morning I thought, I don’t have a lot of time and I need something good. My eyes immediately fell on Psalms 46:10.

Step out of the traffic! Take a long, loving look at me, your High God, above politics, above everything.

Step out of the traffic. Now that’s something I can relate to. My mind has been a busy street, my thoughts racing in every direction. I could imagine God pulling me out of the road, just as I was about to be hit with another responsibility. I sensed that even though God was aware of my schedule, he wanted me to really take some quality time with him—not just a quick call to him while I’m driving through my day. Surprisingly, when I understood what God was asking, I stopped thinking about him as another task to complete; I thought of him as my hero for saving me from being run over by my commitments.

Take a long, loving look at me, your High God, above politics, above everything.

Don and I do this thing (I’m getting personal here) that we call “eyeball time.” During eyeball time we just lie in bed silently, dreamily just gazing into each other’s eyes. It’s very intimate and satisfying. When I read that God wanted me to take a long, loving look at him, I immediately thought of eyeball time. I imagined God and me in a lovers’ gaze—just enjoying each other without the need for words.

Aaaaahhh! God always knows exactly what we need. Next time you’re stuck in the traffic of life, just pull over. God has a rest stop waiting for you.

Ever since I can remember, I’ve dreamed of being well-known.  I don’t mean I want to be a celebrity or even popular; I just long for someone to really know me intimately.  I’ve always loved the romantic notion that someone could find me so fascinating that he would be compelled to explore the inner depths of my soul.  He would understand my aspirations to dress up as a Disney character and work at the Magic Kingdom. He would discern my moods as they change from craving chewy chocolate chip cookies to Reese’s pieces.  He would “get me” and love and accept me even though (and maybe even because) he knows my quirks.  Imagine how thrilled I was to read Psalm 139:

Earlier today I was sitting on the balcony when I noticed a scrawny grey squirrel scamper up the large tree in our front yard.  Since I was raised in a squirrel-free zone in Arizona, watching this small creature in my own yard was quite a novelty.  My eyes followed him as he skip-hopped up the trunk.  “How cute,” I thought as he ascended up and up and up, “It must be fun to frolic in trees all day, watching the world from far above it.”  He traveled to a high branch that tapered to a narrow twig.  Since my formal training is as a mother, my thoughts of fun and freedom were quickly replaced by visions of spurting blood and protruding bones.  He was heading for the end of the branch.  “No!” I wanted to shout.  What was Mr. Squirrel thinking?  (I intuitively knew he was a Mr. Squirrel since females of all species are far too sensible for such risky behavior.)  Was he succumbing to peer pressure?  Were his fellow squirrel-friends daring him from behind the shrubs?  Immediately my questions were answered as he reached the end of the branch, reached out for his prize, and quickly returned to the ground.  Of course he was drawn to the end of the branch—that’s where the nuts are! 

I just love waking up with a “Good morning” from God—some soothing message that makes me feel like I never left my cozy bed. It’s so sweet to get a heavenly bear hug when he reveals that he’s carrying me in his big, strong arms and the four pounds I put on don’t faze him. I appreciate those reassuring words. But that’s not the kind of word he gave me today—at least not in the same way. Today I got corrected. But even God’s correction is comforting when I consider that it shows how intimately acquainted he is with every step I take. He knows when my foot is on the right path, the wrong path or in my mouth. How faithful he is.

After last night’s candlelit dinner, Don and I returned home exhausted from the heat and the events of the day. Without a word we headed for the bed and flopped down with a thump. Neither of us spoke. Instead, our hands found each other and we rested contently as the ceiling fan’s cool breeze washed over us. After some time had passed, we turned to face each other as we shared our thoughts. Both of us had been considering how blissfully happy we are just being together; if we never have a big house, fancy cars, the latest gadgets, or whatever everyone seems to be chasing, we’re content. It’s enough to enjoy this adventure of life side-by-side.

Don and I share a common passion for chocolate. Part of our wedding ceremony included Don’s vow to provide me with a healthy supply of the scrumptious stuff. Since it’s so rich in health benefits and marvelously delicious, we feel compelled to consume it in hearty moderation.

There I was writhing around on the floor, kicking and screaming about how unfairly I was being treated.  “I HATE THIS!  I’m not ready.  Don’t you CARE if I get hurt?”  I complained in my little five year old drama princess tone.  My training wheels had just been savagely ripped (or removed, depending on who you ask) from my bicycle and I was forced to learn to ride the ‘big girl bike’ without their assistance. 

That’s the vision I had of myself as I was muttering about a recent change in Don’s career.  God showed me the reality of the situation through his eyes so I was able to see how ridiculous I was acting, even if my tantrum was all internal. 

In my mind, the regular paycheck was keeping us from falling into financial ruin (If you knew how small the check was, you’d be laughing hysterically).  Actually, just as training wheels limit the bicyclist, the salary was holding us back.  We were depending on it more than on God. 

I’ve read the account of the Israelites wandering in the wilderness and questioned how they could betray God with their complaints when he had been so faithful in his care for them.  I’ve examined their wicked example as I judged them for their hard-hearted murmuring.  How could they be so blind to his provision and so ignorant of his heart?

Now I know.  They actually preferred the familiar life and limits of slavery and abuse to the adventure of trusting their Maker.  How it must have hurt God’s heart to be accused of abandoning them when he had been their hero.  How I must have hurt God when I preferred to cling to the salary instead of to him.

In my fear I’ve misjudged God and his intentions toward me.  Here’s his true heart:  (Paul knew this and tried to tell me, but I wasn’t listening.)

And I ask him that with both feet planted firmly on love, you’ll be able to take in with all Christians the extravagant dimensions of Christ’s love.  Reach out and experience the breadth!  Test its length!  Plumb the depths!  Rise to the heights!  Live full lives, full in the fullness of God.  God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams!  He does it not by pushing us around, but by working within us, his Spirit deeply and gently within us.  Ephesians 3:17-21 Message Bible

It doesn’t sound like a God who loves me like that would put me in a position to fall off my bike and have my dress fly up over my head and puncture my brain with a broken spoke and have blood pouring into my eyes so that when I try to run for help I can’t see the car in the street and become road-kill.   Or anything like that.   

It’s been a few months since my drama princess episode and I’ve picked myself off the ground. We’ve seen God’s faithful provision.  As soon as the salary ended, work started pouring in from unexpected sources.  Now we know that God is the one holding us up and doesn’t have any plans to let go.

Years ago, when I was Gestapo (I’m not sure if that was my exact title) in a women’s Bible study, I had definite ideas about how things should be done.  I developed a policies and procedures manual to help everyone act like I thought they should.  Nothing made me happier than seeing all the rules being followed.  One day, I observed a violator of the worst kind:  a woman was helping herself to the buffet table during praise and worship.  How could this calloused soul focus on food when there was a King of Kings to be adored?  I certainly wasn’t going to stand for this and promptly converted my tongue into a whip as I harshly rebuked the woman and hastily covered the table with a cloth to prevent further sacrilege.

This incident is only memorable to me because the tongue-lashed woman turned out to be the daughter of a good friend.  That day was her first time at the Bible study (no wonder she didn’t know about my policies) and getting her two small children ready in time proved to be a challenge. Luckily, her mom (my friend) had encouraged her to skip her own breakfast since there would be a delicious selection waiting for her.  That’s not all that was waiting for her!  After her experience with me, she didn’t come back to church for a year or two.  (Don’t blame me—I was only preserving the rules). 

I thought the policy was a good one.  The way I enforced it would have made the Pharisees proud.  The trouble is that as I was busy enforcing rules, I abandoned God’s rule of love.  I was like those Pharisees that Jesus condemned.

“Why do you use your rules to play fast and loose with God’s commands?” Matthew 15:3 Message Bible

So why did I usurp God’s authority and place my rules above his?  Whatever happened to gently restoring a brother (or gluttonous sister)?  Whatever happened to the fruit of the Spirit?  I guess in my rulebook, love was reserved for people who behave.  Once someone breaks a rule, I thought I was justified in treating them however I wanted:  harsh treatment, cruel remarks, gossip, the works!  (Did anyone notice that I was too busy guarding the rules to be involved in worship?  And I was judging her for not participating!)

I’ve noticed a lot of us have rules we feel compelled to enforce.  We believe that everyone should know how to behave and we react when they don’t.  I was recently reviewing an etiquette forum where questions are posted for a wide variety of know-it-alls and do-gooders to enthusiastically share their self-righteous opinions.  Ask a question about how things should be done and get ten different responses from ten different people.  All of them are so certain that their own way is the correct way—and that everyone else should know this and respond accordingly.  You should do, you should be, you should know… 

I have to confess I’m still not immune to shoulding people.  Lately, I’ve been considering my own personal rules (and I wasn’t even aware of them until someone violated them): 

You should put the toilet lid (not just the seat) down.

If you cook in my kitchen, you should clean up your mess and tell me if you used the last of any ingredients.

You should never, ever just drop in.  I don’t care how gracious I act; you are not welcome in my home unless you call first.

These are just a few shoulds and shouldn’ts I have.  I have many more.  Some people would think my rules are reasonable and others would think “excuuuuuuse me”.  We don’t all have the same shoulds and shouldn’ts and we shouldn’t expect people to know what ours are if we haven’t told them.  We should tell them, but even if they violate them, we should love them.  We really should take it easy on our use of shoulds and shouldn’ts.