the desk where things happen

I am at my desk, and right now the papers I’ve printed are all crinkled up because so much stuff was stacked in front of the printer when they came out.  There’s a battery sitting here, and I don’t know if it’s old or new.  There’s a pile of necklaces I used in my Bible lesson with the kids at church, and on the left is a stack of papers turned every which way that are probably important.  No one in their right mind would leave anything here for me to do.

My mom’s desk is pristine (and has probably been dusted more recently).  Tidy holders for everything.  Neat stacks.  There are a few square feet where you can see the actual desk itself.  If mom says, “Go put it on my desk and I’ll take care of it” she actually does.   

What does God’s desk look like?  Seriously?   

When my kids put something on my desk, they know they had better follow up and maybe throw out a “So, mom, did you take care of my…”  Is that what God is like? 

I always pretend I have this huge stack of anxiety in my hands, piled so high that I can’t even look over it.  And I walk up to God’s desk and plop it down so loud that everything rattles.  And I say, “Can you take care of all of this?”  And he says, “Sure.  Just leave it.” 

And by looking at his desk I know I can.   

“Plop all your anxiety on his desk (Christy’s version) because he cares about you.”  1 Peter 5:7