"Do you trust Me?" Is the question God asked me this morning. And I am ashamed to say that my answer is, "Yes. No. Sometimes?" I know He can do amazing things, I just struggle to believe that He will anymore...because He hasn't for awhile. Make sense?
I realized on Sunday that for the past couple of weeks, I've been mad. Mad at God. Sometimes I think we don't even know that we are. We're mad at the situation. We're mad at people around us for not understanding enough or trying to understand too much or just for being near enough to get burned by our emotions. We're mad at what was and what isn't and what we didn't get. We're mad because there's nothing, nothing we can do to change it!
But on Sunday morning, as we drove to church, Ben was sharing something he had been reading and he said something about people being angry with God when things are out of their control and it was like an arrow flew through the dewy morning and pierced my crusted heart. Mad...
And so, the ice that had been ever so slowly been encasing my wounded heart, cracked a little. And then with the first words of the sermon that morning, "I lift my eyes up to the mountains. Where does my help come from?" the tears began to fall from my eyes. The ice began to melt.
We're climbing up a steep mountain right now. And our eyes are fixed on the supposed "prize" at the top but we're missing out on what is around us as we struggle to find the next hold for our hands, the next rocky indent for our feet. We miss the tiny yellow flower blooming in the middle of lifeless rock. The gentle sound of flowing water down the mountain creek. The pretty bird singing it's happy tune in the nearby tree. And we say, "Where ARE You, God?!" all the while missing the small glimpses He gives of Himself to sustain us.
"My help comes from the Lord. Maker of heaven and earth." Cannot He who made the heavens, which we cannot even fathom, and the earth with it's vibrant colors and abundant life, help us?
"He will not let your foot slip. He who watches over you will not slumber." My heart has believed that My Father has been slumbering and has forgotten us. Slumbering while we cry out for mercy and just a small taste of His goodness.
He spoke to me that morning, wiped my tears that fell without restraint down my cheeks, and said, "Wait on Me. Hope in Me. I am not slumbering while You call upon My name. I hear You. I see You. I love you."
My tears fell at His feet and He wiped them with the hem of His robes. He lifted some of the burden from my shoulders and gave me some of His strength to keep hoping and trusting. And while we're waiting, we can keep loving those around us and looking for ways to Honor Him and bless Him. I pray my words of complaint will turn to words of blessing and hope. That my tears of sadness and frustration will turn to tears of hope and joy. And that our story will be one of hoping in the midst of pain and beauty that comes from ashes.