I’m sitting in a hospital room right now.  My injured son lying in a bed very close to me.

I have spent many years angry and disappointed because opportunities have been missed, people didn’t see me.  I’ve wanted to do so many things but I just never got the chance.  I’ve been angry at God and frustrated with people.

And here I sit…

Does God owe me the opportunity to demonstrate my greatness?  Ever?

Is God obligated to give me a stage?  Let me perform?  Make people listen?

I’m sitting here and wondering why I ever asked these questions.  

Does God owe me my son’s life?  Is he obligated to spare him pain and suffering?  Everything inside of me screams yes.  But I know those who have suffered much more.  I have read the stories of those who never even had a shot.

I heard a story of a woman held in slavery that got pregnant.  The pimp tightened his watch on the woman, not because he didn’t want to lose the woman.  It was because of the value of the baby to his trade.

What chance is there for this woman, this baby that is not even born yet?

And as my son lies here, bruised and broken, I realize, God doesn’t owe me anything.

My son is alive.  He is my friend.  I am safe and called to risk everything for a Savior that died for me.  I am blessed and admonished to bless others with everything I have.  I am loved and commanded to love others with my whole heart.

God doesn’t owe me a thing.  
I owe Him.

I owe Him.