Epson (my pet name for it) does lots of things, and does them well, but it works best when I follow the instructions packaged with it. You could say those instructions are my Printer's Bible.
Epson has a gadget called WiFi, that can communicate with my computer—no wires needed. When I want to print something, I just glance over to Epson’s top, and if the little green light is on, I hit “Print.” Suddenly, the dormant, black box comes to life with blinking lights and a glowing display window. Then, with whirring sounds, a few clicks, and some more whirring sounds, a blank sheet of paper begins slipping into Epson’s works.
Moments later that formerly blank paper emerges covered with information, graphics and photos, custom-printed to my satisfaction. Any mistakes on the hard-copy point to me, the operator, as Epson does exactly what I tell it to do.
Unlike my printer, I’m not a machine, though I often wish I were. My mistakes, glitches, malfunctions and outright failures point to me alone, not to my Operator, who custom-built me to receive his instructions. He also, however, gave me the responsibility to interpret and execute those orders flexibly. He feeds me the raw data, and my processor interprets his intent and formats the output accordingly. The better I know him, the more accurate is my output. When—not if—I mess up, he doesn’t simply correct the mistake and hit “Print” again, but tells me to make it right.
Like me with Epson, my Operator always confirms that I’m powered up, connected, and equipped with all the "supplies" I need to execute his command. My power is his Holy Spirit, the invisible, inexhaustible “battery” that keeps my "little green light" glowing. My connection is the invisible link of my ongoing, dependent relationship with him, and regular input from his Instruction Book.
Power and system-readiness, however, are only two of the four things needed to do my Operator’s work. My "software" has to know how to access them.
Inkjet printers use a software driver that tells their machinery where to find paper, ink, the starting point for printing, and where to squirt the ink droplets that will form the finished work. But God’s office machine—that's me—needs one more crucial step to do the job: I must decide to accept and execute his instructions. Were I to refuse his output, he would most certainly be put out.
Father, give me the self-control to obey you, and the words to glorify you today. Remind me, Abba, to remain in prayer, at least subconsciously, so I'll be always ready to obey you.