At exactly 3:21 this morning, I woke up. I remember the time, because I really don’t like waking up in the middle of the night, and I tend to immediately check to see how much time I have left to sleep. However, courtesy of the Chinese food I ate for lunch, and the leftovers for dinner on Sunday, this early Monday wake-up call left me really wanting a drink of water. Badly. I debated for just a few seconds about staying in bed and attempting to return to my state of slumber, and then decided that the looming headache that accompanied the desire for water made it a worthwhile endeavor to get up and take care of these needs.

I ambled to the kitchen, and in that attempting-to-be-quiet-but-so-sleepy-I’m-still-clumsy-and-noisy type of way, I grabbed some Ibuprofen and a large glass of water and consumed them both. As I flopped back in bed, I glanced again at the time. The whole ordeal took about three minutes. “Not too bad,” I thought to myself as I drifted back off to sleep.

Just shy of two hours later, the alarm began to go off. With three small children and two adults that have to be out of the house by 8:00, it’s best for us to get started early, even though we don’t like it. Here’s where things get interesting. I very clearly remember thinking, “I should get up a bit early today and make sure I start the day off with my Quiet Time.” For me, that means time reading the Bible, making notes about what it teaches me, and then prayer.

Unfortunately, my good intentions didn’t compete with my body’s desire to sleep a bit longer, and I chose to stay in bed. (My wife gets the first shower, and I get up as soon as she’s done.) I admit ashamedly that I stayed in bed, and didn’t do the Quiet Time. When I finally got up and into the shower, I had a very strong and clear thought: “Why is my desire for water and Ibuprofen strong enough to get me out of bed, but my thirst for God’s Word is too weak?” It was one of those moments that you hope doesn’t set the tone for the day.

Here’s the deal. I ended up having a moment with my sons that I got a bit too upset and didn’t handle it the way that honored God. I knew it. I immediately jumped back to that Critical Moment of Decision (Or C.M.D., for those in the know) where I chose to stay in bed. What if that moment was not just my good intentions, but really the Holy Spirit prompting me to get up and prepare myself for the day? What if that Quiet Time would have gotten my defenses up and allowed me to handle the morning stress in such a way as to NOT make my 6-year-old cry before leaving for school? Either way, I handled it wrong, and confess that I chose the sinful, selfish behavior over doing what was right in God’s eyes. Not a good thing.

Here’s the good part. I locked myself away in my office as soon as I got to work, and did my Quiet Time. It was rather productive, and gave me much to consider. But, as I go back to my original question of why obey my physical desire for water and Advil, but not the Holy Spirit, I remember how often I allow my selfish desires to dictate what I do. This is NOT the way it’s supposed to be. When I became a believer, and asked Jesus Christ to be my Savior, I surrendered MY wants, and chose to submit to what HE wants for me.

Galatians 2:20 (which was part of that much-needed Quiet Time) says that “...I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” If I no longer live, that means that my selfishness is dead--or supposed to be, anyway. Jesus chose to do the hard thing, and gave Himself up to death for my sake. That puts my refusal to get out of bed in perspective.

I need to make better choices. I’m sure we all do. Verse 21 of that same chapter says, “I do not set aside the Grace of God…” While I stubbornly continue to make poor choices based on my body’s desires, God’s Grace is right there, keeping me embraced in His love. He’s doing the same for all of those believers that fight the same battle. At the risk of sounding a bit cheesy, I can truthfully say that I pray that my thirst for scripture and the Living Water can be more persuasive in my life than any sodium-induced late-night craving ever could be.

Black and Blue (Berries, that is.)

When we bought our house a couple of years ago, we did not realize that one of the large sets of bushes half-way through our backyard was a great collection of Blueberry bushes. In fact, we just thought they were overgrown shrubs, so we began just chopping them down. Fortunately, I got tired before we finished the whole thing and late in the summer that year, we discovered our good fortune that the previous owners had blueberry bushes.

So, now we have blueberries, and the cool thing is, within a year, all the bushes we completely chopped to the ground had grown back up and produced some really sweet, big blueberries last summer.

HOWEVER, there is one bad thing to all of this. Inter-mixed with these blueberry bushes is a small cluster of blackberry bushes. I know, I actually really enjoy blackberry preserves on toast or bagels, but I’m not a huge fan of the berry itself. I’m even LESS of a fan of the skin-shredding thorns that grow on blackberry bushes. As the new blueberries grew, so did the branches of the blackberry bushes, and they grow in all kinds of directions.

I tried to be a good sport, and last year took my time carefully picking some of the blackberries off of the bush. The thorns just wouldn’t have it. They seemed to just jump out of nowhere and grab ahold of my clothes, and more times than I care to remember, they would embed themselves into my hands. I had scratches and holes all over my arms and hands. Occasionally I would get a good blackberry, but many of them looked great on the bush, but as soon as I managed to grab it, I discovered that it was mushy and bad. Overall, the experience was not my favorite thing. With blueberries, I usually got a good berry, and didn’t have to fight the thorns to get it. I decided that I didn’t like blackberries that much.

The other day, after doing some reading up about how late winter was the best time to prune blueberry bushes, I decided to cut back the set of bushes we left alone that first spring, because they were terribly overgrown and produced small tart blueberries last year. So, I got out the clippers and shears and went to work. What I discovered is that the stinking blackberry bushes are starting to grow already, and I got mangled once or twice with the thorns.

I finally just got as low to the ground as I could, and clipped every blackberry bush I could find. I even attempted to tear out a few roots and stumps. We’ll see what happens. I hope I got rid of the thorns. If not, I’ll just try to stay ahead of them and get rid of them as they grow, and maybe our blueberries won’t get choked out this year, and we’ll get some good growth from those bushes.

Okay, enough with the horticulture. Here’s what I learned from the experience. Lots of people go looking for the sweet experiences among the painful thorns. They may get the occasional berry, but most time, they are left bleeding and scarred. Why play a risky and potentially dangerous game for something that could very easily be bad, when we can simply go with something we know is good, simple to receive, and will not leave us in tatters.

God loves us. When the creator of the world offers His complete and unconditional love freely, in a way that actually can heal scars instead of giving them, why would we choose anything else? For what are you reaching? If there are thorns surrounding it, maybe it’s not the best thing. Look for the unobstructed offering of God’s love, and simply take ahold of a relationship that is ripe for the choosing, and will never stop growing and producing fruit in us.