A couple months ago I joined a small writer’s group that meets weekly about 30 minutes from my house. It has become the highlight of my week to gather with these people as they tear apart sentences in effort to make it the best it can be. Even though I love it, it is always a fight to get there.
There’s lunch to prepare, school work to check, print out copies of what I’m bringing…double spaced…14 pt…pen…I always forget something! And something always calls out to me as I head out the door.
Faith.
It’s not something I thought I struggled with. I’ve seen God move many mountains that were humanly impossible. I’ve seen Him part my own Red Sea. I thought I easily trusted Him, knowing my life is fully in His hands.
I mean we traveled to Kenya this year. All 5 of us. I knew if we were supposed to go, God would provide the money and the time, and He did. My faith felt limitless in the process.
Then we returned home. It was then I began to notice the holes in my faith. Like rinsing blueberries and draining them in a colander, life was being poured into me and the blueberry juice was bleeding all over the counter. My lack of faith left a stain everywhere I went.
Eyes of Faith. They actually see things other eyes don’t.
Imagine you’ve just walked up a flight of stairs and you’re now standing at the doorway of a large guest room. You look around and see a bed, beautifully made-up with red satin sheets overlaid with a plush, rich comforter and topped with 2 throw pillows. Beside the bed is a rustic, hand-crafted nightstand with an antique lamp on top. An oriental rug covers the floor and fancy curtains adorn the window. In the corner sets a small, round table with two chairs, and a mirror hangs above. It’s a beautiful room.
So beautiful you want your best friend to see it too. You call her upstairs and excitedly show off the room to her. Her expression baffles you. She looks confused and even a touch mad. You ask her if she likes the room. “What do you think of the lamp, the bedspread, the table?” you ask.
“What bed?” she replies. “I see no bed, no lamp, no table!”
“What?” you reply. “Then what do you see?”
Sometimes motherhood wakes me up with smiles and kisses surrounding my face. Other days, I awaken and face tasks much too hard for this only child to tackle. This would be one of those days…
The day started with me desperately trying to talk myself out of driving 60 miles to get groceries at the nearest Costco. “Are the savings really worth my morning?” I pondered.
Doing some quick math confirmed, yes, they were.
To the utmost delight of my children, we slipped on our shoes and slid open the doors to pile in our minivan ready to conquer the aisles and bring home the bacon.
Actually, I’m pretty sure I had to remind each of my children that they weren’t alone in their “I don’t want to go” statements. I didn’t want to go either. But I do like to eat. And, I am always thankful on the back-end for a pantry stocked with supplies for dinner.
Change
It’s what I receive back at the checkout stand.
It’s what happens between 12 and 18 years of age.
It’s how a caterpillar becomes a butterfly.
Change
It jingles in my pocket.
It’s also what must happen in my heart to follow Jesus.
It must happen sooner or later-
Change
I feel it in the breeze that blows on my face.
I hear it in the voices that echo in my home.
I see it happening, like leaves changing color in the fall.
The wind changes direction and ushers in a new season
Do the trees willingly embrace their bare branches? Does it hurt to bud new leaves?
The colors of fall are breathtaking. Yet, the temperatures of winter are harsh.
Change can bring exciting, new ideas. Yet my heart beats in fear.
Change leaves me feeling uprooted, like a transplanted rose bush. Caught up in the nailed marked hands of my Gardner, I go only where He places me.
He gently surrounds me with Songs of Deliverance as He prepares the ground.
Two sparrows are sold for a penny, the Word says. And the strands of hair on my head, numbered.
I am worth more than many sparrows. My life is in His hands.
Change
O Lord, soften up my soil. Prepare the branches for your pruning and plant me where I will produce fruit for you.
Massage the soil of my heart that my roots do not break off in my attempt to hold on to where I am. I want to go where you want me.
Make me more fruitful Father. Harden me with your gentle love to endure the wind, rain, heat and cold of this life.
Replant me by your streams of water that I may always bear fruit.
Thanks Flickr for the photo.
I just finished reading your story in the book of 1 Kings, chapters 17-19. I imagine you standing at the entrance of the cave in Horeb watching the LORD pass by. What was that like?!
Your story has me reflecting…
So when I choose faith, does that mean I should have an end goal in mind and just KNOW (have faith) that God’s going to work “all things together for good” and come through for me?
I’m sorry, dear friend, but the answer that that question is NO. Fortunately, though, faith is so much deeper and richer than hope for all answered prayers our way! Oswald Chambers says, “Through these doorways (pain/trials/struggles) God is opening up ways of fellowship with His Son.” Hebrews 11 is full of examples of people who lived “by faith” and there’s also a paragraph nestled in-between these heroic deeds that requires our attention.
I imagine entering the gates of the Heaven – as our name is found in the Book of Life, we take our seat among the patriarchs – David, Moses, Elijah. Then a scroll is passed to us. On it reads Hebrews 11:
When Adam and I steal an opportunity to dash off by ourselves – leaving the kids with my parents– we usually find our way to some sort of hiking trail. As we’re either climbing up the rocks or cascading down the slope, I like to place my foot in the exact footprint that Adam just left behind. Then I don’t have to think. He’s still standing so I should be fine. We can now freely carry on a conversation because I’m not worrying about my next step.
Do we need proof of God’s Word being alive and sharper than a double-edged sword? How about reading a familiar bible story in a fresh, new light and it producing in you a realization that you never saw before? That’s what happened to me with Matthew 14:13-33. This is my rendition of that moment…
The feeding of the 5 thousand happened right after Jesus heard about John the Baptist’s beheading. He withdrew by boat to be alone. What He was feeling, we aren’t told. But, interrupting that quiet, alone time, was the crowds that began gathering around him. Filled with compassion, He began teaching them and healing the sick. As evening came, the disciples remind Jesus everyone will be getting hungry soon and they sure don’t have enough food to feed such a crowd. The familiar story then unfolds when food multiplies from Heaven and Jesus produces enough to feed them all. After the baskets were returned, the leftovers bagged up, Jesus sent His disciples on up ahead of Him while He dismissed the crowds. Jesus, however, decided to resume his “quiet time” and retreated again to a mountainside to pray A-L-O-N-E. Meanwhile, His disciples have now drifted a considerable distance away from the shore because it’s almost morning. Jesus approaches them, walking on the water. The disciples’ mouths gape open in fear, but Jesus says,”It is I. Do not be afraid.” Peter speaks up and says, “Lord, tell me to come to you.” “Come on,” Jesus says. Peter inches out, then realizes what he’s doing and a million doubts fill his head. Instantly his feet begin to fail and he’s sinking. “Help, Lord!” he yells. As Jesus swoops in to gently lift him up, Jesus asks, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” I imagine Peter saying, “But Lord, the waves…I …..can’t….” Jesus rests him on the boat and the wind stills. The LORD has walked into the boat and all creation must obey Him.
Jesus didn’t still the waves to boost Peter’s self-confidence. He let him sink, carried him to the boat, then stilled the waves so that the disciples would worship HIM. I agree with the disciples, “Truly you are the Son of God”!
Julie Steck 