Part 2: The Contents of the Perfect Journal

What you are about to read . . . has been carefully transcribed from the perfect journal (a picture of my journal from Barnes & Noble) to this blog page.  Read Part 1 if you are lost. 

Before you enter my journal imagine being a mom . . . a woman in her early 30's (it could be you) who fills her day with a mixture of happy and sad noises (not sure if they come from the kids or her), desperately seeking to be the hands and feet of Jesus to her children yet still becomes frustrated to the point of sighing and rolling her eyes; overstimulated from 6 hands that constantly touch her, and looking the part of a "mommy" even though she took a shower and donned fresh clothes (after 48 hours)--remnants of snot on her shoulder and peanut butter smeared on her forearm remain as she leaves for church.  Visualize leaving a house with breakfast dishes in the sink, toys strewn across every square foot of the floor--even the size 8.5 carpeting spot where she stepped on the Matchbox car barefoot and nearly fell coming down the stairs. 

She is momentarily haggard, but knows that this moment (well, collection of moments) is but a season. 

And she wouldn't trade this craziness because she shares it with her two best friends-- God and the Hottie Hubby.  (Yes, I know . . . cheesy way to end this imaginary--or is it?-- video). 

Enough of being dramatic.  Here you go.  The following is the result of an idea that God gave me on my way to church this past Sunday.  "Drop the kids off into their classroom and go sit in the library.  Skip service."  Now, I wouldn't recommend YOU do this every Sunday, but for me . . . it was 1 1/2 hours of extremely good fellowship and refreshment with the Lord.

I sit in our church library, surrounded by 100's of people strewn out in various places of this building.  Junior highers noisily trod down the hallway to youth group after being released from worship.  Preschool Sunday school teachers race by taking children to the bathroom and retrieving a forgotten supply.  Three-year-old's loudly sing Jesus Loves Me behind a closed door, and I discover that it is little Nessy who is noisly turning the pages of a book, hidden behind a shelf from myself and her mom.

What will I tell my husband?  I was at church . . . but I skipped church.  I played hookie.

I need to be with you, Jesus.  I need quiet. 

I have an insane craving for a meaningful encounter--to be heard by my Lord, but also to hear Him.

Sometimes all of my interactions, responsibilities, hobbies, homemaking, and dialogue sound like an orchestra warming up to play Handel's Messiah (except I sometimes feel like I am always waiting to hear it--when in reality God plays it  out every day through my life.) 

Pure noise is what I hear as I sit in the orchestra pit.  Seemingly random instruments out of tune but playing simultaneously. And I wonder how can all of this noise be my life recital?

As I reflect on Esther's life, I am challenged.  In Beth Moore's study, Esther:  It's Tough Being A Woman, I see the difficult notes Esther had to read and it took some tough words to shake her up.

You see, she was a Jew wearing the crown of a very prejudice throne. Though God is not mentioned once in this book, His hand prints are everywhere.  The largest thumbprint being the enormous fact that this orphan Jewish woman was Queen!  And "it just so happened" that a plot had been set in motion to destroy the Jewish nation--an edict had been sent out to destroy, kill, and annihilate the Jews living within the kingdom, while SHE was queen.

Esther's uncle, Mordecai,  distraught over his certain fate acted as a prophet or a tuba in Esther's ear.

Over the years a common phrase has been uttered by my beloved  to me "What?  Do you live in a cave?"  Though I take it as a joke, this statement when said to Esther is all too true.

Sheltered by her beauty treatments, Esther is clueless to the horrific event about to wipe out her race.  Mordecai's personal earthquake reached Esther and truly shook her up.

Esther became attuned to the reality that she had a choice to make.

1.  She could approach the king and potentially die along with her people or possibly live by doing so and save her race. 
2.  OR she could keep her pretty little mouth shut.  Everyone dies. 

 But Mordecai's words echo in her ears like a pair of cymbals, "And who knows but that you have come to a position for such a time as this?"

It is in this defining moment that I imagine Esther asking herself, "What is my life?  Is this what it's all about?  Beauty treatments?  Waiting for the king to call me?"

I can hear the instruments tuning up for Esther's biggest life concert.   Has she practiced enough?  Is Esther ready to play this moment in history?

Am I?

Can I take all the noise in my life to create or better yet play the piece God has written for me?

The Bible tells me that like Esther I am royalty.  (Matthew 11:1;  Matthew 13:11-12; Luke 17:20-21; 1 Corinthians 4:20; 1 Peter 2:9; Revelation 1:6; Revelation 5: 9-10)

I am reminded by Beth Moore that "right now I am representing the King on official business in another land.  My status is secure.  {But} not only am I royalty, but I have been placed in my sphere of influence, regardless of the size I perceive it to be, 'for such a time as this'."

I can choose to be the conductor of my orchestra or I can be the resounding gong and clanging cymbal in the movement of my life.

Truth be told, I sound a lot like a sighing gong.

God will still accomplish His musical piece in my life but instead of it sounding like Handel's Messiah it may resemble my children clamoring away on their musical instruments.  But if I change the tune of my instrument . . .

There are MANY moments in my day when I want relief from my life . . . from the noise . . . from the responsibilities.

If that relief came--what need would I have for God?  I would think I am self-sufficient.  But I NEED GOD.  I need to see what note He has planned for me to play next.

There is a lot of noise coming from my house.  But that noise is our practice, my daily symphony of God's script for me.  The loud notes represent many things.  Nevertheless, they are part of the script.

I just need to learn to play them according to the script.  God has laid it out for me.  One note at a time.  And I find my next instrument by reading my Bible each day and spending time with The  True Conductor.