The Burning Bush

UPDATE:  Though we have not heard anything back from the showing on Friday, we continue to wait upon the Lord for His perfect timing. 

Again, today, I surrendered the house to God and my feelings of discouragement.  When I arrived home from the grocery store this afternoon, there was a realtor with his clients in front of our home.  "I'd like to show your house on Tuesday."   Though I offered for them to come in today, he said they'd wait until Tuesday. 
And so we wait on the Lord and His perfect timing.  Because, He is God.  And I am not.

 ORIGINAL POST:
Sometimes I wonder if God looks down on me from Heaven and rolls His eyes.  "Seriously?  Grey-Haired-Momma (feel free to insert my name, my whole name, here if you know it!) have you not learned to trust Me yet?  I am God.  And you?  You are not!"

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
       neither are your ways my ways,"
       declares the LORD.

 "As the heavens are higher than the earth,                   
       so are my ways higher than your ways
       and my thoughts than your thoughts. 

                                  Isaiah 55: 8-9

If you've read this blog for any time at all, you've followed my struggle with surrendering.  Specifically speaking surrendering the fate of our house.  I talked about the puddle that used to be in our front yard, and how, again, I was faced with the need to surrender.  I feel like I've surrendered the fate of this house, and ultimately, our family, to God.

 Just to give you a little background, we've had the house on the market for 6 months.  We've lowered, and lowered, and lowered the price.  We had two showings within the first few weeks of listing and then nothing.  I'll say that again.  Nothing.  Since January.  Nothing.

So last weekend I say to MotorMan, "What if the lack of interest IS our answer to prayer?"  I'd been praying and praying that God would sell our home.  We've done everything we can do.  It's up to Him now.   And so I prayed, and then began to wonder if instead of Him not answering at all, as I'd believed, He had already answered.  And that maybe I'd missed it.

  

You see, it is my belief (and I think it's an accurate one) that God answers prayers in three ways:  Yes, No, and Not Right Now. 

And so I began to wonder if God was answering my prayer, just not with the answer I wanted.   Could this lack of interest in our property mean that the answer to our prayer for a sale is "No, or Not Right Now"?  Maybe we were to look at other options regarding the house.

I began a new prayer: "Lord, whatever Your will is, I want to be smack dab in the middle of it.  I believe you have plans to prosper us.  I believe.  Help my unbelief."   And then I put it to Him.  "Lord send me a clear sign of Your will.  I need a burning bush."

A burning bush.  You might think I'm joking.  I'm not.  Remember Moses?  God loved him and chose him more than once to lead God's people.  And yet, each time God told Moses to do something, he questioned it.  He wondered if it was wise.  He wondered if he was really hearing the voice of God.  So God sent an angel and a burning bush.  And then spoke from within that bush: 

"Moses saw that though the bush was on fire, it did not burn up. So Moses thought, "I will go over and see this strange sight—why the bush does not burn up."  When the LORD saw that he had gone over to look, God called to him from within the bush, "Moses! Moses!"  

      And Moses said, "Here I am."    Exodus 3:2-4  (emphasis mine)

So I was asking God to speak to me.  To yell my name in a way that was absolutely, undeniably His voice and His will.  

Sitting at the dinner table last night, MotorMan and I were discussing the future of our home.   We were talking about being in the middle of God's will.  Of wanting to do what is right. 

And then the phone rang.

"Hi.  I'm calling about the house you have listed for sale.  Would you be interested in renting it?"

I wanted to cover the mouthpiece of the phone, hold it above my head, and shout, "BURNING BUSH!!!  BURNING BUSH!!!"  

But, of course, I have much more tact than that.  And telephone manners.  But I did think about shouting it.  And I did gesture wildly to MotorMan who was close by. 

I talked with the gentleman on the phone and we discussed the possiblity of renting the house to him and his family.  And then we ended the call.  I looked at Motorman and said, "That's a pretty clear answer to prayer, huh?"  Being a man of few words, he replied, "Yes."  I had to persist, "But what if I don't like the answer?  What if it is not the answer I wanted to receive from Him?  Do I still obey and follow?"  His answer, "The simple answer?  Yes.  He's God."

And I realized:  He is God.  And I?  I am not.

 Further on in Exodus Chapter 3, after God has told Moses what He wants him to do (all from the burning bush), Moses questioned God.  He is concerned that God's people won't believe that he, Moses, has been sent by God.  He says, "What if they ask me who sent me?"  And God's answer?  "I am who I am."  And then God goes on to say, "Tell them the I AM has sent you."  

He is the great I AM.  He is God.  And I am not.

So MotorMan and I decide we're going to go the path of renting.  We discuss it.  Talk over how this was not OUR plan, and how we will adjust to having this mortgage and also renting something at our next duty station.  Feel peaceful knowing -- knowing -- that we are in God's will. 

And then, today, the phone rings.  It's our realtor.  "I have someone who is very interested in looking at your house.  Not to rent.  To buy."

Oh this is going to be good!  I cannot wait to see how God is going to work this for His glory.  Because, to me, that is what this house has become.  A big symbol of His greatness.  Of His glory.  Of His sovereignty.  Of the great I AM.

 He is God.

And. I. Am. Not.

All photos are mine except for the burning bush and the last photo of the light filtering through the trees.  I take my photos with a Nikon D40x and, for these, used a 18-55mm lens.  Because I was too lazy to do any editing, all of my pictures on this post are SOOC.