I am at my desk, and right now the papers I just printed look like an accordion, because so much stuff was stacked in front of the printer when they came out.
There’s a battery sitting here, and I don’t know if it’s old or new.
There is a pile of necklaces I used in my Bible lesson with the kids at church, and on the left of those is a stack of papers turned every which way that are probably so important I’m about to go to jail if I don’t take care of them. I’m good at organizing drawers and cupboards, but I’m not good at staying on top of secretarial tasks and administration.
No one in his right mind would bring any new task to my desk and imagine it would be taken care of in a timely and efficient manner.
My mom’s desk, on the other hand, is pristine (and probably has been dusted more recently). She has tidy holders for everything. All papers are in neat stacks. There are even a few square feet where you can see the actual desk itself.
If my mom says, Go put it on my desk, and I’ll take care of it, you know she actually will.
I do believe God has a desk, and it is uncluttered.
When I feel anxious, I always pretend the worries are a huge stack of paperwork in my hands, piled so high that I can’t even look over it. I walk up to God’s desk and plop it all down so loudly that it makes everything in the drawers rattle.
Can you take care of all this for me? I ask.
Sure, he says. Just leave it.
Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. (1 Peter 5:7 NIV)
With one look at the Lord’s massive, solid mahogany desk that has nothing on top of it except a bowl of chocolates (how would you imagine it?), I have complete confidence he is the master administrator who will tackle my problems with ease and efficiency.
Doesn’t it sound dreamy? Gathering up all the stuff that’s weighing on you and handing it over to someone else? Except this is for real.