He’s Not a Tame Lion…

I find myself struggling this evening.  There are a number of things stirring in my heart, and, frankly, I wish they weren’t there.  I don’t want to deal with them.  I’d rather I could keep going the way I have been, but they are there regardless.  I don’t want to admit these things to myself, let alone to the other people that they involve and affect.  But as I have prayed and sat here, waiting to see where my soul wanders and what the Spirit seems to be doing and whispering, I find myself concluding that admitting is exactly what I must do.

Oh, if you’re concerned, it’s no great and terrible sin.  Perhaps I could steal from Paul and entitle it a thorn in the flesh.  It’s age-old fear creeping up and silencing me when I ought to speak.

But, as Lewis pantomimed in Narnia, He’s not a tame lion, and what He does is not always what I want.  Sometimes, it seems far from safe or pleasant.  But it is still good.  Yes, He may lead through the valley of the shadow of death, a valley sometimes of my own creation or sometimes a perfectly pleasant valley that my heart is paranoid of anyway, but He does it because the way is good.

So I suppose I’ll speak up.  I’ll do what He’s asking of me, not because it’s pleasant or because I want to, really, but because He is good, even if He is not tame.


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