I have a hypothesis about our birth stories (see Seven for the details). In short, I was born eighteen days late. My poor mother watched as her due date, August 1, rolled past. Then a week, then another week, and then four more days. I decided it was finally time for everyone to meet me on August 19th, 1986.
I decided.
My life has centered around those two words more than it probably should. In fact, I wish I could say that I have grown out of the “I decided” nature I entered this world with, but I haven’t. Over three-and-a-half decades later, I still do things on my own time. Thankfully, God accounts for this in His plans. And thankfully, I am in a place where I can accept His grace and forgiveness and see the goodness in His permissive will.
You see, if it weren’t for my “I decided” nature, I would be writing this on September 9th, not November 12th. But if today were September 9th, God would not have been able to speak to me as He has. A great portion of what He has shown me has been through Creation; more specifically, through autumn, which begins long after September 9th. He knew I would veer off course and do this when I was ready to, and so He incorporated my “I decided” nature into His plans.
God’s appointed time for things (for everything, really) has been a thought my mind has rested on during the tail end of this journey. This ponderance weaves itself with the concept of His sovereign and permissive will, and I am often left wondering how certain things would have played out if I (or whomever) would have simply cooperated the first time. I see this played out daily in the raising of my daughters; my preference is that they would cooperate the first time, but because of my love for them I allow them to choose. Sometimes, they choose wisely. Other times, they are like I was in the month of August thirty-six years ago: stubborn and demonstrating that through the adherence to their own timeline.
While the latter is not my preference, the time between the first opportunity to cooperate and the time they finally do is extremely fruitful. In the midst of frustration, tears, and - at times - consequences, both my daughters and I are refined individually and within our relationships with one another. We grow in our communication and conflict resolution, we are bonded through acts of forgiveness, repentance, and reconciliation, and we are further molded into the people we were created to be. Though I cannot be certain (as I am not God) I think it is safe to say that His appointed time has nothing to do with time in the sense that we think it does. Rather, I think that God’s appointed time has more to do with the ultimate desire of His heart: leading us back to the people He created us to be.
The only “I decided” that matters is the one that relates to deciding on Him; deciding to trust Him, to be led by Him, to be transformed by Him, to be loved by Him. We live out that “I decided” as restfully and comfortably as I lived out the eighteen extra days I spent in the womb, knowing that He has an appointed time for all things and He is refining us to walk into those things one “I decided” step at a time.