My blessed floors


The room is lit by the rays of the sun, and I am cleaning floorboards to the beat of newscasters discussing turbulence around the world.

The kids are in the background grumbling about their part of the chores, and the dog is stretched out on the same hair-covered spot on the couch I plan soon to vacuum.

Life. This is mine, but not really.

As my elbow grease builds, I just keep on talking to God.

Rambling to Him (and we all know I ramble), I shake my head and think He must often find me so silly. The sky bright through the window, it shines on my Voice of the Martyrs book "Tortured for Christ" sitting on the table.

All the horror the world is facing as this comfortably seated and well-dressed newscaster shares her thoughts on a situation none of us will likely ever understand.

And I just keep scrubbing my blessed floors. 

Where is my place in the plight of His creation? I keep asking. 

Here I am, a product of where I was born and living the life I was given, and I am conflicted about whether to feel grateful or guilty for my blessings. In reality I am both.

I decided just to ask Him.

My chatter quieted and I listened for something greater.

What He showed me was my floor.

He put right here for a reason; I cannot say exactly what that reason is. I cannot question His plan but what I can do is every single thing He asks me to do while I am here in this place.

Whether it seems significant or not.

Today I have been told to feed my children (and believe me there are days He has to remind me to do that) and in the meantime to teach them about who He is.

I have also taught them--and myself--that there might come a day when it is our turn for persecution.

Either way, I know He has a plan.

The Potter who handcrafted the song bird.

The Scientist who put the laws of gravity in place...

The Comforter who sits in the cells of the persecuted.

The Protector who guides the missiles of His people.

He has a place for me in His plan.

He has told me to pray and to stay aware.

To pray can sound a little bit like a cop out.

"Prayers!" A common theme in our comforts to one another as we scroll through a social media news feed.

Sometimes it can seem a shallow promise, but truly it isn't when we pour ourselves out for the needs of others.

God hears and He answers.

I will truly pray for those who are persecuted, and I will truly pray for those in greater trials than me.  

When those in prison in the Eastern world are asked what we can do to help, they ask that we pray, so let us pray.

I will also bring awareness when and where I can. Like through this blog, so I can ask you to pray too. That we can all remember how blessed we are, and also to remember that this moment can quickly turn to another, darker, one.

That is His plan for me right now, and no matter how small it may seem that is what I will do.  

And I will keep asking for more to do, because my life is truly His.

So is your life.

He has a plan for you too. Don't be afraid to ask Him for it, but remember it is all in His time.

Always start with a prayer.

Meg DuncanComment