Every once in a while, I have one of those days.
It begins like any other, with my to-do list and I competing in the epic duel that comprises most days, but this time
Needless to say, those days are rare.
By midmorning, I'm proud of all that I'm accomplishing. That English essay I thought would be hard to research? A breeze. The speech I've been working so hard on? Suddenly coming together. How about all those Algebra problems?
Okay, the Algebra problems are still very, very hard. But, still...
My midafternoon, I'm pumping with an inflated sense of my own hyper-productivity.
It rarely lasts all day. On the cusp of the perfect thesis statement, the to-die-for last sentence of the speech, or what exactly X equals (why does it have to change every time? Poor little X goes through quite the identity crisis)
...that still, small voice interupts.
"However, do not rejoice that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven."
The disciples had just returned from the mission trip of the century. There were seventy-two of them and each of them were filled with joy because they had personally exericised the power to drive out demons in Jesus' name.
They were thrilled, to say the least, to be in on the adventure of serving Jesus.
And they had completely forgotten what an honor and adventure it is just to be His.
So, at the end of this highly productive day, I choose not to dwell on the fact that my to-do list raised the white flag...
I choose to glory in the truth of the Cross.
And dwell on the unfailingly humbling fact that I belong to Jesus.
Neither perfection nor production are my aim...