Hiding Behind the Baggage

Hiding Behind the Baggage

Alesha Leveritt

In reading I Samuel this morning, I was a little disappointed. I always count on my morning scripture reading for inspiration and an “idea” that sparks my mind for the rest of the day. And this morning, I just didn't get it – at least not at first.

The scriptures were I Samuel 9-12: the story of Saul's selection as king. Interesting passages, but nothing jumped out at me until I started writing out some prayer and reflection about my own life. I was talking (whining, really) to God about the fact that I would never achieve what I wanted to in my walk with Christ because of all my baggage. And then suddenly, my memory triggered back to this:

I Samuel 10:20-22 (NIV)

20. 
    
    
    When Samuel gathered all the tribes of Israel, the tribe of Benjamin was picked.
21. 
    
    
    Samuel had them pass by in family groups, and Matri's family was picked. Then he had each man of Matri's family pass by, and Saul son of Kish was picked. But when they looked for Saul, they could not find him.
22. 
    
    
    They asked the Lord, “Has Saul come here yet?”
    The Lord said, “Yes. He's hiding behind the baggage.”

Yep, there it was. Perhaps the greatest excuse for lost Christian potential. The BAGGAGE. We all have it. Of course, some of our baggage is prettier than others. You may have floral baggage with filigrees (something beautiful that you have a hard time leaving behind). My baggage looks a little more like the gym bag that got left in the back of the pick up truck in the rain (story for another time, but trust me, it's UGLY). I have it. You have it. He has it. She has it. We've all got BAGGAGE! And it creates a very convenient little place to hide when we are afraid of what God is calling us to do.

Saul didn't think he could be king. He'd started out that day searching for Daddy's lost donkeys. Donkey-hunter to king is a pretty big leap for anybody, much less with no preparation. Yes, Saul had prophesied, but only once. Yes, his heart had been changed, but that did NOT mean an absence of fear. Here was Saul, donkey-hunter, tall to the point of being awkward, and after one training session, he was to be king? Saul counted every failure he had ever experienced, every time he had made the wrong choice, every time he had spoken too soon and appeared foolish, every time someone had told him he wouldn't amount to much. He packed them in some bags and camped out behind them. The baggage was real, but more importantly, so was Saul's fear. He used the baggage to build a wall to keep him away from the destiny God had planned.

How many of us are guilty of that same thing? God calls you to do something, and you say, “Oh, no Lord. I can't possibly do that. I'm a failure. I've messed up too many times. Nobody will give me any credibility. I'm an ex-con. I'm divorced. I'm not well-educated. I'm too educated. I can't speak well. My mother dressed me funny. No, not me. These bags here will hold me back. Just move on and find someone who doesn't have all this . . . this . . . STUFF.” Do any of us realize (preaching to myself again) that when we do that, we are placing our baggage in front of God's greatness? We are basically making the statement that GOD who created heaven and earth pales in comparison to STUFF , BAGGAGE?

Today, stop hiding behind your past failures. Stop hiding behind your insecurities. Take the step of faith. Step out from behind the baggage and into the future God has promised you! 

Of Human Bondage . . . and Tahitian Pork Roast

We are all bound by our expectations. We anticipate that things will go a certain way, and when they don't - we become frustrated and angry. We expect God to answer our prayers OUR way, and when He doesn't . . .

I purchase food through a food co-op - you pay for a box, and they fill it up. In that box are many things - things that must be cooked. And things that offer occasions for frustration.

So - I'm sure you're wondering where this is going - in the box of food, there was a pork roast. Very nice cut. Just perfect for one can of mushroom soup, some potatoes and some carrots. Traditional meat and potatoes. I was SO ready to get it going and then . . .

I checked the cupboards. No soup. No regular potatoes. Just a can of pineapple chunks in juice and a sweet potato. It was catastrophe. It was horror. It was unimaginable. OH THE HUMANITY . . . Roast can't be cooked any other way, can it?

Hardly realizing what I was doing, I opened the pineapples and dumped them in. Well, I was committed, might as well finish it . . . I peeled the potato, chopped it and put it in there too. And then the frenzy began. What other strange things could I put in with that roast? Two oranges, an onion, the left-overs of a bottle of barbeque sauce, honey, lemon pepper, spices, salt, pepper . . .

Well, I had done it - but how would it taste? I decided that, if I liked it, I'd name it Tahitian Pork Roast, and if I didn't, I'd tell myself that the pineapples just FELL in there. Eight hours later, my kids and I ate the best pork roast that has ever been prepared within the walls of my kitchen. Tahitian Pork Roast. Which led me to the question . . .

What do we miss when we are bound up in our expectations? When we as so caught up in our expectations of what SHOULD BE, do we miss what COULD BE if only we would let go of the reins - just a little?

I suppose I could have re-wrapped that pork roast and saved it for another day. I'm sure it would have been a good pork roast in the traditional sense. But I'm glad I didn't wait. I'm glad I took the plunge.

We aren't always promised and safe and smooth voyage. And we are not always promised that we will have the ending we expect. Sometimes, you just have to take the plunge.

Tahitian Pork Roast, anyone?