Complainingitis

Perhaps the most difficult disease to cure is "complainingitis." Why do so many of us--why do I--who believe in the sovereignty, love, wisdom, protection, and providence of God spend so much time telling Him that everything is messed up?
I complain about where I am when I know that where I am is exactly where He wants me to be--needs me to be. Yet, I struggle with wondering if things wouldn't be different--better--if I were someplace else. Now, if I am where my Lord and Master needs me to be, who do you think is behind my spirit of complaining, my wish to be somewhere else. As if the one thing I wouldn't take with me to "somewhere else" would be my complaining heart? And the more I complain about where I am, the more I miss the opportunities He has placed before me to be His witness where I am.
Sometimes I complain about my life circumstances. I murmur about my past circumstances, my present circumstance, and my imagined future circumstances. And I have no trouble bringing up all three. Frequently. And yet, what are we told? "He knows the way that I take, and when He has tried me, I shall come forth as gold." I so deeply desire to be His gold, but then I complain about His purifying of my soul so He can spend me to do His will in the dusty road of everyday life. I tarnish the process by my complaining, and wonder why He isn't using me to display His beautiful character to those around me. It's because His gold--His beauty--is hidden behind the mud of self-pity that I'm always wallowing in.
And too often, I complain about who I am. And who am I? His beloved child, unequivocally beautiful in His heart--the son or daughter of His love, the apple of His eye. He has molded me into the vessel He needs to do His work. He has filled me with the eternal treasure of the Spirit that I might radiate His glorious presence step-by-step each and every day. Who I am--all my gifts and talents--is exactly who He made me to be. Oh, He isn't finished yet; but, He is only going to make me more beautiful--the clay in the Master's hand. If I'll just stop trying to get off the Potter's wheel.
The cause of complainingitis? A lack of faith. I don't believe who He says He is. I don't believe what He tells me He's doing in my life and the eternal purpose behind His loving work in me. I don't believe His promises. I don't believe Him when He tells me that I am His beautiful work of art designed to glorify Him in the place that He has put--assigned--me. And without faith, what is it that God says is impossible? And with faith what is it that He says is undeniably possible?
When the enemy begins to fill your heart and mind with a complaining spirit, stop--and remember--mediate--on what you know is true. He is the Shepherd--my Shepherd--who provides for, loves, protects, guides, sustains. I am in His green pastures, lying by the still waters now, this day. That's where He leads His own.
He has, is, and will take me down the path--the only path--that will transform me into His gold--the reflection of His likeness. The beauty of Jesus can be seen in me.
I am His child--beautiful, deeply loved, exactly who He needs me to be, I am His workmanship--His poem to the world; His beautiful "vase" filled with His presence each moment of this day.
May God grant us the faith to believe in our hearts; and thus, in our lives, that all things are working together for the good of God, His people, and me. Cure me Lord of the walk of sight. Fill me Lord with the walk of faith. I would be one who pleases you by living in the confidence that by faith all things are possible. Even the "cure" of my complaining spirit.