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I haven’t been so happy to experience the arrival of a delivery truck in a long time. A couple of weeks ago, the ice cream started getting soft in the freezer in the kitchen. Really? Pretty soon, the refrigerator itself began to show signs of global warming. We used Yelp to locate a repairman to diagnose the problem, and hopefully make the necessary repairs.

He was able to diagnose the issue rather quickly. “Buy a new one.” After seven years, our fridge was considered too old and too expensive to repair. So, we did. But it wouldn’t arrive for a week. When that truck pulled onto our street and brought us a brand-new refrigerator, I was thrilled. It makes ice cubes. It keeps the ice cream hard. It keeps us from eating spoiled and rotten food.

A week without a refrigerator is…inconvenient. I still turned around to grab the butter. Every day. My mind is distracted, and I kept opening the refrigerator door only to be deeply disappointed. Out to the garage. Again.

I thought about our friends in Bombo, most of whom don’t have much in the way of reliable refrigeration. To live like that is not impossible, it is just more difficult. It’s inconvenient. Without a refrigerator, meal prep takes more thought, more time, and must be repeated on a daily basis. It steals from the time we could be using for hospitality or serving other people or spending more time with God.

But maybe living my theology doesn’t mean I need everything to be as convenient as possible. Maybe I can learn and grow in my walk with God as life is inconvenient?

Now, let me be honest. We have an extra refrigerator in the garage. It was one of the perks of having a college student move home after college. We fill it with unnecessary things, except during the holidays when it is crammed with delicacies. Life without a refrigerator in the kitchen was no hardship. It just meant walking out to the garage to get what we wanted. We learned to plan ahead a bit. But habits are tough to change.

I am enjoying the new kitchen appliance and the joy of just turning around and finding butter again. But do I make my convenience a necessity? If I did, I would never have met anyone in Bombo. I’d never have taken students to camp. Or Mexico. Or reached out to an Afghan refugee family.

God can use our inconvenience for His glory when it makes us dependent on Him. And on Him alone. Abram left Ur. Inconvenient. But as he lived with that inconvenience, he became the father of many nations. Faith is not always convenient. Don’t let convenience be the most important thing in your life. Ever.

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