Faith

“Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see…And without faith it is impossible to please God… yet none of them received what had been promised.  God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect….”

 Hebrews 11:1,6,39-40

She left with a lot more baggage than she came with.  She was just as beautiful as the day she arrived.  And she cried just as much, just not as loudly.  She is strong, smart, and capable.  I love her persistence and her idealism.  I can’t wait to see who she is when she comes home for Christmas.  Because I cannot go with her to watch out for her or protect her any longer, I ponder a few things about faith.  It…

…is being certain of what we do not see

…trusts when we do not receive

…makes it possible to please God

The quality and character of God is more important than the quantity of my faith.  God, who entrusted Lissy to me to begin with, is capable and trustworthy to care for her in the future.  He doesn’t need me to check on him or to give him instruction, but to believe that he will come through for her as he has done for me.  As my relationship with my daughter goes long-distance, my relationship to God grows one step closer.  I knew I needed his help to raise her, and I need it even more to let her go graciously.  I know she is his, only on loan to me for the blink of an eye (was it really 18 years?).  So I gave her back this week, knowing that God is able to provide for her, to protect her, to cushion her heart, to challenge her, to give her wisdom, and to meet each and every one of her needs (which is something I could never do anyway).

The Vanishing Vine

“But the Lord God provided a vine and made it grow up over Jonah to give shade for his head to ease his discomfort, and Jonah was very happy about the vine.  But at dawn the next day God provided a worm, which chewed the vine so that it withered.”  Jonah 4:6-7

God provided a vine…

God provided adventure…  God provided two new cars…  God provided several special friends…  God provided a roomy and worry free house…  God provided money for travel back and forth across the ocean…  It eased our discomfort of living as strangers and we were very happy about it.

God provided a place to live when we moved back to the states…  God provided a job…   It eased our discomfort when we transitioned from missions to church work and we were very happy about it.

God provided a worm…

God provided financial crisis…  God provided opportunities for delayed gratification…  God provided when we had to say no to our kids…  God provided decreased property values…  God provided two older cars that work but don’t always feel fun to drive…  God provided a house that isn’t finished…  The vine withered and the scorching wind came and we grew faint.

Should I not be concerned…

I am concerned about the things God allows to spring up overnight in my life and am even more concerned when I lose them.  I don’t like discomfort and losing luxuries is uncomfortable.  But although God notices those things that ease my discomfort, sometimes he provides for that discomfort so that he can accomplish a plan that I may not understand…  “Should I not be concerned about that great city?”  …or about Westboro and Rib Lake?

Twenty Years

 

“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work:  If one falls down, his friend can help him up…  Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves.  A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.”  Ecclesiates 4:9-12

“Whether the weather be good or whether the weather be naught, 

We’ll weather the weather, whatever the weather, whether we like it or not.”

Brian has been quoting this to me since soon after we began dating twenty-two and a half years ago.  And because of the weather we’ve weathered a few things have changed.  We look older and wear out faster.  We’ve celebrated a few anniversaries together and a few from opposite sides of the planet.  We have learned lots from mistakes we’ve made and we are wiser for it.  We’ve lived in a few unique places and see the world with eyes that see a little deeper, a little wider.  We’ve cried a few tears and shared some heart aches, binding us in a friendship more intense, stronger than the day we said our vows.  We’ve laughed, a lot, mostly because Brian can find the funny side of things even when there isn’t one and the shared laughter binds our souls in a familiar belonging, so close I never imagined it when he walked up to that library table twenty four years ago.  We are a family of six instead of two, and along the way we’ve collected a trunk full of memories in our minds that draw us together, even when current circumstances and worries wedge themselves into our lives.  The weather may be fair, and we’ll enjoy the breeze together.  But when the weather batters us, I know today what I only knew in theory twenty years ago – that Brian will be tenacious and dependable and that the One who weaves our lives is creating a cord more tightly woven each year.

Ode to Weeds

“What does the worker gain from his toil?  I have seen the burden God has laid on men.  He has made everything beautiful in His time…”  Ecclesiastes 3:9-11a

“Mrs. Lora was the kind of teacher who loved every kid the same, even the weeds.  She showed me how she felt, one time when we were walking home together.  She stopped to look at a little purple flower growing from the road stripe in the middle of the street.  ‘Well, isn’t that something, Epie?’ she said.  ‘Look how it’s blooming right there with the cars driving by.  Just goes to prove that life doesn’t have to be perfect for something beautiful to grow.’  (Dandelion Summer by Lisa Wingate).

…toil

I’m trying to find another crack in the sidewalk.  It’s harder than I thought it would be…  When we moved back to the States three years ago, I thought this change would be more like another flower transplant, from one perennial bed to another.  When a gardener moves perennials, often we move more than just the flower with the roots, but also with a bit of the dirt packed around it.  We keep it moist and find it a new home, carefully adding in the new soil around that bit of the original soil.  By the next summer the adjustment is made and the plant is blooming again.  Past moves and changes led me to believe that it will be okay in a year or two.  So the struggle to settle surprises me.  The toil of my soul in trying to find that crack tires me.

…burden

But four summers later, I’m still wondering if I will ever bloom again.  Rather than a transplant, this time I feel like the seeds of my life were just scattered to the wind.  I’m like a seed all dried out and trying to find a crack that will have enough moisture, enough nourishment to put down roots.  I’ve worked so hard to pamper the other plants around me – my children, my husband, my extended family, even my new church family – making sure that they can bloom in this new place, in a new stage in life, under various adversities… Has God laid this burden on me?  I don’t see what He sees, why He needs me in this place and in this life circumstance.  Why can’t I just go back to when life was a bit more hopeful, when I could be carefree with my kids, when the worries of life didn’t wear me out so quickly?

…beauty

And all the while I still wonder, am I a weed that will turn bitter and someone will just want to come along and yank out?  Or will I be a “volunteer”, not pampered with fertilizer and attention, but struggling to survive, blooming in spite of the imperfect world, perhaps seeming out of place, but beautiful just the same.