It's Friday and I have almost lost my voice. In fact I couldn't speak this morning and only regained just enough of my voice by the time I got to school to get through the lesson. I don't just sound like I've eaten copious amounts of sandpaper, but like I've eaten a horse that's eaten a frog that is now lodged in it's gullet, which has eaten sandpaper for the best part of six years. Oh dear... time for the expensive, german, environmentally friendly medicine and lots of tea.
Given that tomorrow morning I'm meant to be singing some christian songs and handing out christian tracts in Göttingen with a friend, I'm a little puzzled as to why I should get ill now. Part of me is like, 'yes! this means that I won't have to sing and embarrass myself...' or, 'whoop, maybe I can get out of the whole thing altogether'. Then the other half of me is saying, 'ah no... what a disappointment after all of the prayer and the excitement at the prospect of getting out to on the streets to tell others the gospel. Oh how lamentable that it's all going pear-shaped! Does God not want me to do this?'.
How fickle I am! On the one hand I delight in my illness because it may save my ridiculous and shamefully sinful pride, and on the other hand I am disappointed because things aren't going the way I want them to go! And these are all thoughts that I've had running through my head the whole day.
God is sovereign, maybe I just have to learn to be patient and wait for the answer rather than rushing ahead with my quick-fire logic to work out what's happening. Still, tomorrow hasn't yet arrived...
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