Sunday, March 27, 2011
Friday, March 18, 2011
Who hasn't heard the saying, "when a door closes a window opens?" It's one of those infamous cliches that one uses to comfort when things go wrong. But what does one do when the door’s been slammed and the window has yet to open?
We are there.
Last Thursday my husband was laid off from his job of almost 6 years. We knew the possibility existed, we just didn't think it would be us......
Being a one-income family has caused this abrupt end to rattle us. Honestly we don't have a clue what we’ll do next. Some days we’re still in the shock stage. These are the times that try a man's soul.
Our emotions have been all over the place. The questions rise up from some place deep. Is God really good? Will He really take care of us? Do I really trust God with me, with us, with what all this will look like?
The words have been spoken repetitively. "God's got something better."
I want to believe it, I really do. But I contemplate how there could be something better than what we had? As I type the words I see how easily my focus goes to what I can see working out. I can easily equate the goodness of God with the goodness of my circumstances.
I've been around the block enough to know that the "God has something better" might not mean the most pleasant of circumstances. Can I really trust God with this unknown territory? It doesn't help that years ago we lived through the season of the jobs. Though much good came out of that time it's hard not to remember that long hard winter and wonder.
At times the battle is fierce. There are moments when the uncertainty of it all shakes me at my core. The enemy whispers his taunts hoping to discourage me. "How can this possibly work out?" "Look around you." "How in the world will you guys make it?" His voice resounds in this seen world around me. Yet Jesus' voice trumps his when I choose to trust Him with what I cannot see.
I find myself remembering the words in Hebrews, "more blessed are those who have not seen, yet believe." They take on new meaning at a time like this. If I look at what I can see there is not much hope here. I live in a small, rural, mountain town where jobs are few and far between. But isn't it in the unseen world that the unexplainables happen?
I have a favorite clip in the movie, "The Last of the Mohicans". A group of British soldiers are escorting 2 women through Indian territory to their father. Suddenly their guide turns on them in ambush. Those in the midst of the ambush have no idea of 3 Mohicans who are on the run to rescue them. Suddenly out of nowhere, they appear. The ambush is thwarted and the remaining party is saved.
The story line makes me think of life behind the scenes in my world. Father, Son and Holy Spirit are always on the move. It's not dependent on what I can see happening. It's dependent on their faithfulness to move heaven and earth to come for me, simply because I need.
I want to trust in the way of a child. They don't question whether they’ll have food or shelter. They don't wonder if they will be cared for, protected or even rescued. They rest in the care of their parents because they know their place in the family.
I want to be there, all the time, with the One who Fathers me. I want to rest in knowing my place in the heart of Love. It’s the battle my mind now faces. These inner struggles are part of the “greater things” that He does.
Darkness meets light as fears that lay hidden make their way out in the open. In their moments I am invited to wrestle with God until I believe what is already true for me. It is then He can overcome me much as He did Jacob, allowing me to find that which has always been true. I belong to One who loves me to the point of death. Nothing stood in the way of His rescue then. Nothing stands in His way now.
“Those who are historically experiencing the greatest measure of the Holy Spirit’s power are those who doggedly choose to give up control over how their life must look and instead call good whatever God has allowed, caused, withheld, delayed or denied.”
John Lynch - 2011
©copyrighted: 2011; Julie L. Todd