But Charlie Brown, it’s Thanksgiving
It was a very low moment during our free stay at the Residence Inn by Marriott.
The feels:
Okay, imagine Lucy and Charlie Brown.
Lucy has the football. Charlie Brown wants to trust Lucy. Lucy invariably pulls the cruel gag.
I heard the chirp and looked at my phone. A friend texted me a link to a song.
I was familiar with the artist’s name and song and although I’ve sung it, I’d never really listened. I sat on the edge of the queen bed, clicked play, and looked out over my morning sliver of Vegas and coffee.
If we’re honest, we admit, at least to ourselves, the occasional doubt(s). The question(s). This one’s a classic:
“Is God good?”
In the first twenty lines of the “Goodness of God” song, it’s as though someone took me by the shoulders then pulled me up drone style, over this weird, desert town that I don’t love, over the planet, over my entire life thus far, that I have truly loved—and at other times, tried unsuccessfully to love.
In those twenty lines, I was reminded of what is real and true, even though sometimes the evidence points to the contrary.
I heard the directive: “Sing of the goodness…” That’s the ironical path forward. The key to the lock.
But haven’t I tried that key? Haven’t I been singing? Haven’t I said, in faith, I want for this to be “well with my soul”? Yes, I’m waiting for the wellness to kick in.
And then the song tells me to be patient because it’s coming. He’s not Lucy with the football.
Life is Lucy.
Don’t get confused.
His goodness—the goodness—is running after me. Look over your shoulder, you can almost see it, Pammy.
And the other directive is surrender.
Surrender now. Give Him everything. Over and over and over again.
Self-reliance is overrated. Attempts at controlling outcomes are futile.
I’m listening.
And then a moment of grace, of go-easy-on-yourself, of “I don’t expect perfection here in Vegas”:
…every breath that I am able.
Some moments I am unable.
Some moments I am.