There are worms in our eggs.
One I cracked last week was totally black. Rotten, stunk up the whole house.
Isabella has had terrible poo (may or may not be related).
Something mysteriously gnawed one of my cucumbers in the night. Our road has been dug up for repairs. One of the repairing trucks literally fell through the road.
Sometimes I feel this curse of toil. Adam got the bad news that because of his sin, work would no longer be easy. The ground would fight back. Eve got that whole pain in childbirth thing. That's real. Believe me. But also, as a helper to an Adam, I am not immune to his curse of toil. This curse affects me as I make a home. Home fights back.
Some of it's living in another culture. Some of it's having three young kids. Some of it's just my laziness or unmet expectations or selfishness. Some of it's rotten eggs. I mean, it just happens as I make my banana bread. And it's continual. Spinning like this merry-go-round.
But let me not despair into fatalism. All is not meaningless. And at the same time let me not make my battle with the worms an analogy of God's faithfulness. It's real. It's gross and frustrating and pressure-cooking my sin. It's covered by grace. Because we can expect toil but we can also hope in the promise of God working all things for our good and His glory. God will not redeem rotten eggs, but He will redeem me. He has promised to transform me more into His likeness (whether that's thanking God for rotten eggs, making a list of gratitude for all the not-rotten eggs, asking what Jesus would do with a rotten egg, or just processing my thoughts on a blog...I don't know yet).
I can hope with certainty in His promise. I can expect toil. Home will fight back with all it has. And yet, I am not home yet. I look toward that Home where there will be no fight, no wasted time, no fruitless work, and certainly no worms.
One I cracked last week was totally black. Rotten, stunk up the whole house.
Isabella has had terrible poo (may or may not be related).
Something mysteriously gnawed one of my cucumbers in the night. Our road has been dug up for repairs. One of the repairing trucks literally fell through the road.
Sometimes I feel this curse of toil. Adam got the bad news that because of his sin, work would no longer be easy. The ground would fight back. Eve got that whole pain in childbirth thing. That's real. Believe me. But also, as a helper to an Adam, I am not immune to his curse of toil. This curse affects me as I make a home. Home fights back.
Some of it's living in another culture. Some of it's having three young kids. Some of it's just my laziness or unmet expectations or selfishness. Some of it's rotten eggs. I mean, it just happens as I make my banana bread. And it's continual. Spinning like this merry-go-round.
I can hope with certainty in His promise. I can expect toil. Home will fight back with all it has. And yet, I am not home yet. I look toward that Home where there will be no fight, no wasted time, no fruitless work, and certainly no worms.
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