Handing over the keys...

What a restless night of sleep.  I'm tired of being tired.

But there are times in life when it seems that God just keeps me awake until I relent and hand over the keys.  It isn't until things get really desperate that I realize how tightly I'm grasping onto keys of my life.  I want to unlock and lock doors.  I want to open and close doors.  I want to be the sole engineer of my life's destiny.  

And then, in a fit of fatigue mixed with fear, I surrender once again all my "so-called" rights.  And you wouldn't believe the Bill of Rights inside my head.  All these codes and protocols, policies and procedures, do's and don'ts, will's and won'ts...these things seize up the engine of my heart like a neglected tractor that throws a rod.  I can't do this anymore.

And I can't tell you how many times I've re-dedicated my life to the Lord, re-surrendered my will to His,  re-doubled my efforts to function on his timing, his strength.  I can't innumerate.  And yet, time and time again, he shakes his head, takes the keys back, puts me in a head lock and gives me a noogie saying, "You little squirt!  What am I gonna' do with you?"  I look up at Him with disheveled hair and say, "Sorry for being such a nimrod...I don't deserve to be your song, but if you would be so gracious to allow for me to be your hired servant, I would be much obliged."  He gazes at me with an almost disgusted look on his face and says, "Have you lost your raving mind?...I've already sent for the fatted calf...and looky here, I've got a nice little signet ring to stick on your finger.  How ya' like those green apples?"  Embarrassed and yet relieved, I look at him as if to say, "Why do you keep doing this?"  And he looks at me as if to say, "Because I can't help but love you."  I affect to smirk and look down at the dirt.

Life functions so much better when I hand over the keys.


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