Sometimes I forget that not only does God have a plan, but His plan for my life is good. In Jeremiah God reminds his chosen people, "For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future" (Jeremiah 29:11). In Paul's letter to the Romans he reiterates this point by declaring, "And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose" (Romans 8:28).
I make a point to look out my window every night. I live on the top floor of a 6 story building. Prague isn't entirely flat, and my window allows me to see for miles. Eventually I wrench myself away from the window and force myself to crawl into bed. Yet, my mind always wanders to the beautiful cityscape around me.
I'm left in total wonder that I'm living in Prague. . . I'm left in wonder that a city this beautiful can be so broken.
How did I get here? . . . God planned for me to be here. Am I really making a difference? The fact that I'm here says that God is using me. Am I sure? Yes. How?
. . . it's in moments when I ask myself how i'm sure that God sends me little reminders. "Daughter, I know the plans I have for you. Trust me. Keep on walking in my will."
2 nights ago I picked up a new book. It's a novella by George Elliot called The Lifted Veil. Confession: I didn't pick this book up because i'm most interested in it, or because i've heard wonderful things about it. In fact I've never heard of it. Here's the horrible part: I picked it up because it's a novella. It's short. (I've had hardly any time to read for pleasure lately. I know that anything longer would have been a burden for me!)
I flippantly read through the first couple of pages. (It's hard to get yourself excited about a new book when your life is busy.) Several pages in I saw the word Prague. As I continued, I realized that several pages were about Prague. In fact, the main character's visions of Prague comprise a major part of my book! Several pages describe the historic Charles Bridge that I've walked across so many times!
. . . Is it really a coincidence? How many books have such lengthy descriptions of the city I'm growing to love so much?
No. This is just another little nudge of confirmation. "I want you here. Walk in my ways. I know the plans I have for you."
I want to share a passage from this novella with you. It isn't the most optimistic recounting of Prague that exists, but it does pass on a good picture of the city's history. Remember, this is not only a selection of beautiful phrases describing my city . . . It's more than a coincidence. It's a reminder of His plan for my life. May each of us dwell fully in the land God has placed us in. May we remember that He has a plan for each and every one of our lives-- And, better yet, his plan is always for the good of those who love him.
From George Eliot's "The Lifted Veil"
"My father was called away before he had finished his sentence, and he left my mind resting on the word Prague, with a strange sense that a new and wondrous scene was breaking upon me: a city under the broad sunshine, that seemed to me as if it were the summer sunshine of a long-past century arrested in its course-- unrefreshed for ages by the dews of night or the rushing rain-cloud; scorching the dusty, weary, time-eaten grandeur of a people doomed to live on in the stale repetition of memories, like deposed and superannuated kings in their regal gold-inwoven tatters. The city looked so thirsty that the broad river seemed to me like a sheet of metal; and the blackened statues, as I passed under their blank gaze, along the unending bridge, with their ancient garments and their saintly crowns, seemed to me the real inhabitants and owners of the place, while the busy, trivial men and women, hurrying to and fro, were a swarm of ephemeral visitants infesting it for a day. It is such grim, stony beings as these, I thought, who are the fathers of ancient faded children, in those tanned time-fretted dwellings that crowd the steep before me; who pay their court in the worn and crumbling pomp of the palace which stretches its monotonous length on the height; who worship wearily in the stifling air of the churches, urged by no fear or hope, but compelled by their doom to be ever old and undying, to live on in the rigidity of habit, as they live on in perpetual mid-day, without the repose of night or the new birth of morning."
(Charles' Bridge, built in 1357-- The statues primarily represent different stations of the cross. Even in the mid 1800's George Eliot thought this bridge was a marvel of history . . . )
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