Ebenezer

    My hands reached for the stones, straining to pull them out of the mud. My fingers dig, freeing the shape one layer at a time, taking out the first stone for the foundation. It was for an ebenezer, a marker to commemorate what God had taught me. He'd show me the first stone, the criteria on which to measure the rest of my life: his delight. I was not responsible for the results of what I was commanded to do. I was only to ask Him if what I was doing was his pleasure. So freeing, in some ways--to have no pressure from results, no conflict of my own interests, no trepidation from my own flaws weakening me until I was not enough--I, with God's' grace in me, would be enough for him, more than enough.
     The first stone was laid, the beginning of a monument I was building to cause myself to remember, remember, remember. I am so prone to forget. Remember, God's pleasure is the foundation, the corner stone that guides the rest into place. Remember.
     The second stone, firm, immovable, fitting perfectly with the first. This, faith. For I know that God's pleasure is not a visible thing, not something I can measure--something I have to take on faith. For I only have his word that when I do his will he is pleased; and I only have his word to know what to do. There will be no "good job" directly from him till I hear that "well done, good and faithful servant." I will gain that by His help; this I believe. But I have to trust, in the meantime, that if I seek his will, I will find. If I ask for his guidance, I will receive. He will reveal His will to me in His time--as David cries "teach me to do you will, for you are my God!" Faith that God will lead me where he wishes me to be. Faith that He will teach me to please Him, and that He will show me He is pleased when I need to know it, when I crave proof, when my spirit is not strong enough to take it on faith.
     A third stone, this one a promise. It's slippery, covered in sweat from the work of drawing it out. I promise to remember, to tell this tale as God wills, to bring it up with my friends. It is a stone I find hard to hold, one that weighs me down, one that cements me to this place. It holds me accountable to these stones, reminding me that they hold the strength to build a place to stand on--to kneel on. It holds the weight of God's presence, a place where I came to know him better.
    Three stones do not seem a large pile, three stones do not seem a great monument. It is fitting to my pride, fitting to the humility I have been asking for. But three stones is enough; if my life is enough for God to use, and He has promised that he will complete the work he began in me, then three stones are more than enough to use to cement me to my knees and teach me who he is. All praise to the God who created stones, people, faith, wisdom, and love! He works in ways I all not always understand--so I pray that he gives me the strength to trust, to live on that trust--to honor him. In the name of Christ, amen.