Heard an interview with Drew Barrymore lately, where she said, “I don’t want to sit around and hope good things will happen.  I want to make them happen…I want to be in control of my own destiny.”  And on a different, but I-promise-to-tie-together-in-a-second-note, I was strolling by the ocean last week and distracted by the accelerating legs of a small bird.  He made me smile, with sand-cast feet running full-speed away from the approaching waters.  Each wave, clearly more wise and experienced than this little creature, showed uncanny amusement almost, as it let the bird race gravity.  Out of breath and in what seemed his fated end, the determined creature contributed one final stride.  And then, as if destiny were never in question, his wings took rise as his body glided off the sand into the warm, spring air.        

I was impressed by this exhausted run, but more exhausted by the bird’s forgotten ability to fly.  Because in a remarkably similar way, I forget this same thing.  If what God says is true, and I really have every spiritual blessing in the heavenly realms (Ephesians 1:3), I have the power to fly—but typically choose to walk chained.  

Any given day finds me running as fast and as far as my legs will take me, which on good days is pretty far.  But the sad truth is, I’ve still settled for the pace of running, when I have the option of graced flying.  I’ve substituted the cheap lie that lets me function, for the unfathomable Life that lets me fly.  

We all want to make good things happen.  Great things, even.  But we can only cover so much ground, before the waves take us over—control so much distance, before destiny takes us under.  I’m wondering what would it look like today to be delivered from our own feat, and positioned into God’s?