List Lover, List Shredder

I love Lists. The illusion of control is powerful, so much so that writing down rows of words actually leads me to believe that the next 24 hours will go exactly the way I design them. And my life is the stage of God's favorite comedy act.

Lists hate me. I form them, they attempt to form me, and I rebel. I fall into bed at the end of the day, wondering where I misplaced the List and why exactly the day did not conform to the priorities of the List.

I'm coming to love Lists for their ability to shove me to the floor in glorious agony. Try this out for size:

"You are not your own; you were bought at a price" (1 Cor. 6:19-20).

Uncomfortable, huh? Lists torn up, ripped to shreds, thrown in a river gorge. And somehow there is finally peace, like in the moment a screaming baby ceases his rant and you sigh, "AHHHH...."

The List no longer condemns. The List no longer scowls and controls. The List IS no longer.

I am not my own. I am just one piece in a Grand Love Story, one flower in a field of flowers blooming loudly...

Say it with me {it feels great}:
"AHHHHHH...."