stovetop burn

I prayed and prayed about it. “God, give me a sign.”

Then… silence. I waited. Suddenly, faintly, I hear the strumming of a guitar. A friend is walking through the woods with a guitar. That was it. That was my sign.

I chuckled. “God, this is your sign and I will obey to the best of my abilities.” The words flowed out of me almost naturally.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were here.” My friend turned and walked away.

As soon as he left, my face widened wih a smile. “God, you are so good. Thank you. Thank you.”

I was surprised not by the results of the sign, but rather that He’d sent me a sign in the first place. It was a miracle in all aspects.

But I didn’t listen.

Oh, no. In fact, I did the exact opposite of what I was supposed to do. I turned from God, and with one swing of the pendulum, I pushed Him out of my life. “I don’t need you, God. I don’t want you in my life.” I didn’t want the sign to be truth. I defied God and shut him out.

I lived for a month without God.

Then one aspect of the sign came true. Boy, did it hurt. It hurt like He’d just whipped me for doing Him wrong. I should have listened. I should have obeyed. I should have gone to Nineveh.

But I’m glad the sign was there in the first place. I’m thankful that God didn’t let me take the whole force of the fall. Otherwise, I’d be broken. Maybe dead.

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