I am telling myself it’s a combination of yet another rainy day and of not having a break from school. I’m exhausted and on the last day of the school week, I am required to slosh through puddles and mud and still be late for class.
And then I get home, reheat the coffee I didn’t have time to finish before school, and try to drown my melancholy mood in language study.
But in the apartment below, I hear the neighbors playing the Qur’an. The sing-songy chant grates on me. So I turn on my own music:
You’re the God of this city.
You’re the King of these people.
You’re the Lord of this nation.
You’re the Light in this darkness.
You’re the Hope to the hopeless.
You’re the Peace to the restless.
There is no one like our God.
For greater things have yet to come
And greater things are still to be done in this city.
No matter how “done” I feel with life right now, His work has only begun in this city. And He wants to use me now, right where I am. In the middle of puddles, mud, and too much homework.
My calling to glorify Him isn’t based on circumstance.