I don’t typically have tea and certainly not when it’s still so hot here. The air conditioner not working so great in my office and a deadline looming on top of disappointing decisions, I decided on tea.
I was lingering over an encounter from earlier and the nearness of our conversation making both of our disclosures so very palpable.
I wished I had a pretty cup, I’ll fix that tomorrow, heated the water anyway and washed the Christmas mug.
Opened the little envelope and understood.
Understood why I chose to have tea, the message I needed God knew. His love for me is unlimited, His ideas and plans for me are incomplete.
I have time still, no limits.
Can you imagine how differently God sees you than you most of the time see yourself?
I start and stop things because I can’t imagine the shame of not finishing so I’d just as soon not begin.
Just as soon settle for the label of just a dreamer over an accomplished doer.
I don’t think that is God’s desire, that we decide to derail His plans for us or that we doubt the possibility of their completion.
The three Books of John are brief, 2nd John having only one chapter, 13 verses.
He wrote letters, compelling them to walk in love and the chapter ended with him saying, I’m leaving you with these guidelines; but, I’m coming now to sit with you, to be with you, to look you in the eye, because I want to be sure you understand, want to be sure that your joy will be fully and amazingly complete.
“Though I have much to write to you, I would rather not use paper and ink. Instead, I hope to come to you and talk face to face, so that our joy may be complete.”
2 John 1:12 ESV
I don’t think he wanted them to take lightly all of the goodness of God, the way to live fully.
I wonder if he’d struggled too to imagine a life complete and he “got it” and wanted to tell them all “you got this too…with God, the possibilities are unlimited! Believe and your joy will be complete.”
Your joy will be consistent, wait and see, you will see redemption this side of Heaven.
Your joy can be complete.
Linking up with others on the prompt from Kate Motaung “complete” as she writes about 7 years and her joy over recording her mom’s passing in her beautiful memoir, A Place to Land. I understand, Kate. I understand.
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