The question of balance plagues me continually. I’m sure I’m not the only one. The melancholy idealist, must-do-the-right-thing firstborn in me agonizes over everything, trying desperately to know what’s right. Which food: health, time, money? Which clothes: how many, how much, how fancy? Which outings: am I building my home or being a recluse, building the kingdom or neglecting my hearth? Which tasks: goal oriented or people oriented? Radical living: give it all away, say thank you and enjoy? This moment: should I be doing what I’m doing, or am I missing it?
Am I missing it???
That is the churning that is my [almost] constant companion.
Thankfully, when I still myself long enough to notice that stomach-in-knots churning, I can tell myself that there is peace.
But how? How is there peace? Will God tell me the exact number of outings per week a woman of virtue says yes to?
There is no perfect balance. There is only the will of the Father.
Moment by moment, hearing, seeing, and then doing.
This, after all, isn’t about knowing God’s plan for my life. It’s about knowing Him.
“My food,” said Jesus, “is to do the will of him who sent me and to finish his work.”
“I delight to do Your will, O my God.”