“I can’t afford a new one,” I thought to myself as I shampooed another stain. This can’t keep happening. Maybe I made a mistake. I have to make this last. And the couch. And the clothes. And all the things.
We are done having babies. The price of food has doubled. It’s astronomical to fill the cars with gas. Things are closing in on me.
How can I best serve my family? Survival mode engaged. When I read the news, when I follow the headlines, when I listen to the conversations around me . . .
I hear fear. Loss. Confusion. I hear hopelessness. Devastation. Unanswered questions. I hear despair.
And then I am tempted to despair, which is not what I’m called to do.
And as I was lamenting over the stains and the needs and the rising costs of living, the mouths to feed and the fun places I want to travel with my husband someday, I’m reminded of how fleeting this is.
“And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?” (Matthew 6:27).
I can spend my days lamenting the present and worrying about the future. Or I can trust the Lord. I cannot do both. I can prepare and care for my family. But I should not obsess over it.
Because the One who feeds the birds will care for me. The One who dressed the lilies will care for me. The One who comforts the orphans will care for me. The One who made the blind see, the deaf hear, the lame to walk, He cares for me too.
Does that mean I will never feel hunger? No.
Does that mean I will have everything I want? No.
Will I have all my earthly needs met? No.
And this is so confusing.
And crazy. And doesn’t make sense. I want to ask why and why not. I want to ask how this makes any sense.
How can a loving God allow such tragedy and destruction and sorrow and sadness?
How can I, with my finite, human mind understand it all? Or at all what the Lord Almighty has in store for us.
Before sickness took my child, I had to decide where my faith lay. What I really thought of God. How I would respond if things don’t go my way.
Before devastation and hunger and fire and flood, wars and famine, before joy and sorrow, the really high highs and the really low lows, we have to decide.
What do we believe about God?
Is He really who He says He is? The great I AM? The Sovereign King? Our Good Father?
Because if we judge Him based on earthly outcomes or human actions, we are missing it all. He is not of this world. He is not one of us. He is holy. Perfection. The Alpha and Omega, Beginning and End.
We are living in the in-between. Where sickness takes our children and people fail us. But God is still good. This is where I land and this is where I’ll stand and this is, Lord willing, where God will lead you too.