Trust

My heart aching with longing, my head aching with worry, I wonder:

How can I trust Him?

How can I trust Him with these still-forming dreams, these ill-defined desires?

I wonder, and I realize:

How can I not trust Him?

Look at all He has done for me.

He saved me from myself, my sin, my abuser, my rebellion, the broken aloneness of my self-imposed exile.

Oh, I’m still broken and I still sin. We are all broken sinners. But if we are His, then He is ours, and He is in us. We may be broken sinners but we are forgiven, set free, and we are never alone.

He heals the broken places. The scars will be with us until we return home, but even they have a purpose, as much as we wish them away.

The scars remind us of His faithfulness to us. How strange that sounds.

These scars are my Ebenezer, reminding me that He is worthy of my trust. They remind me that He has been and will continue to be faithful to me. If He watched over me and led me back to Him even when I openly rejected Him, how can I doubt that He is still watching over me now that I gladly call myself His once more?

He is faithful and just. He is worthy of our trust and our praise.

“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.” –Lamentations 3:22-23 (emphases mine)

Remember

When you’re scared because it feels like your heart is bleeding out all over;

When it feels like your soul is seeping through these sudden cracks in your armor;

Don’t stop it. Let it flow.

And remember.

Remember what God has done for His people through the generations.

Remember what He has done for YOU, thus far.

Raise up your Ebenezer stone.

Remember.

Remember, and know that He won’t abandon you in the middle of your story. He is the author and finisher of your faith. He is the one writing your story. You don’t have to know how it ends. You just have to know the One writing it. Your author. The finisher of your faith.

Remember.

And know.

Wait and See What God Will Do

“Don’t be nice to me,” she said, “I might cry.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Tears pricked my eyes.

“You too?” I asked.

I met her eyes. We understood each other.

I played with the nursery baby; she sat in the rocking chair.

We didn’t need a heart-to-heart. Just a few simple words were enough. We knew.

We knew neither of us was alone.

We knew neither of us would judge.

We knew we could be honest.

We knew we could be real.

“Wait and see what God will do.”

Until that moment, I raged against those words. But she said them so…plaintively.

For the first time, those words didn’t sound trite. They were not a mindless platitude. I knew I wasn’t being brushed off. “Oh, just wait to see what God will do. Buck up.”

This was a plea. “God, what will you do? We’re looking to You. We’re grasping for a glimpse of Your glory, Your power, Your mercy in our lives. What will you make of our pain?”

We’re still looking, still waiting. Some days bring hope, some hardship.

But we aren’t waiting alone.