An interesting thing happened on the way to the pulpit on a recent Sunday. No, I wasn't told about the lack of toilet paper in one of the restrooms, though that has happened. Instead, God changed my mind.

I am a very organized person. I tend to think categorically. I analyze. I prioritize. I outline. And, I plan.

When I was serving as a pastor in the local church, I would begin preparation on my sermons far advance. In fact, I could tell you to the day what I would be preaching on twelve months out.

While that may sound unspiritual to some, God used it on more than one occasion to give me the right text for circumstances never imagined a year earlier. For example, the Sunday following 9/11, I had already planned to preach on Isaiah 46:9-10. That was the perfect text that Sunday to share with a grieving people who were wondering where God was on that fateful Tuesday morning.

Now that I'm not preaching regularly, I obviously can't and don't plan that far out. However, I do work well in advance of a planned speaking engagement and come in well-prepared for the morning's worship. The same was true of my August visit to a local church whose pastor just needed some time off.

As I was driving to the church that Sunday morning, I was thinking through the text and my sermon. At stop lights, I would glance over my notes quickly reminding myself of the salient points. Rather than finding comfort in this mobile refresher, I grew more discontent. I prayed. I begged. I asked for clarity. None came.

In the parking, I looked through my notes again. Again I felt unsettled. I began to second guess myself. Had I missed something? Was I harboring unrepented sin? What was wrong?

As the worship service began, I fidgeted nervously, fingering my notes. I found no comfort in my preparation. Something was amiss.

While the congregation sang one last song, I hung my head. I said my prayer. Then, I mounted the stage and I threw my sermon out the window. God was leading me somewhere else that morning.