I don't usually do this but...

I read something that I want to share.

I have had so many conversations with people lately about how difficult life seems to be right now, either financially, spiritually, physically, or circumstantially- you name it. I have been feeling in the dumps too- anxious,worried, frustrated, impatient. Again- you name it, I got it.
Then I picked up a little essay by Andree Seu from her book 'We Shall Have Spring Again'.
She says this-

"I have been waiting for the day when I can amass just enough spiritual capital to achieve some independence and not have to go begging God for every little thing. I have envisioned what it would look like: I would have read enough great books to be respectable in polite society. I would have attained enough competence in some skill area to amount to something. I would possess surplus purity of heart the way I have stockpiles of paper towels in the pantry, not having to fight for it anew every day in prayer.
I always think it's just around the corner, this time to coast. In the meantime I am constantly desperate for God.
There are precedents to my frustration in the tale of the widow from Zarephath. A stranger blows into town and asks for bread.
'I have nothing baked, only a handful of flour and a little oil in a jug. Now I am gathering a couple of sticks that I may go and prepare it for myself and my son, that we may eat it and die." (I Kings 17:12) She is already counting herself dead.
At this point Elijah can, if he wants to, open the storerooms of heaven and make it rain fig cakes. But he does not. He only promises, "The jar of flour shall not be spent and the jug of oil shall not be empty until the Lord sends rain upon the earth."
Every day she comes down to the kitchen (is she biting her nails?) and there is just enough for the day.
We like a little more margin than that, thank you very much. But God is not into comfort zones. He dispatches disciples to preach with no staff, nor bread, nor bag, nor money. His heavenly caterers send manna enough for the day, but try to scrape up Wednesday's dinner on Tuesday and you'll get maggoty manna for your unbelief.
Recently I counted all the essays I have stockpiled over the years. They were a buffer against writer's block, a safety net in case the Lord didn't come through, a comfort zone in which the comfort was not having to rely on God. Maggoty, every one- stale and dated. Each one taking hours to write, each one representing time I didn't spend with my kids.
Simon the Sorcerer (Acts 8) is merely the crassest illustration of my desire to own the gifts of God as a commodity. Who needs moment by moment relationship with God? Just sell me the ownership of the power of the Holy Spirit to wield independently of Him. To Me be the Glory!
I am humbled but happy. Begging God daily is the right place to be. Not to possess anything in myself, but to draw the day's grace as the branch draws from the vine. In your right mind, you wouldn't want it any other way.

Don't you love it when you read something that speaks right to you? I hope this helps any of you out there who are struggling with the day to day.