A tsunami of grace. A hurricane of love. I bet you think I am describing Jesus huh?
I’m not, it’s a guy named Bob. Bob Goff.
After reading his book I would agree with his friends describing him..
The unique ability to love others when humans unravel their lives is prickly. It’s head tilting. Mesmerizing. Mostly because, well, that’s how Jesus loves us.
When I find myself in a tired place of waiting, I feel the weight of pain. The weight of the wait.
God sends someone like Bob to offer a hug from God. Looking into a stranger’s eyes sometimes reflects the compassion of God as they offer kindness. They encourage you through a long season of pin dropping silence to your prayers
The seasoned believer comforts the young warrior who has been worn down by battles.
Dry seasons of prayer when the waiting tries to reign in the tendency of wandering. When his answers obviously don’t come flooding in but the tears sure do.
When the days of expectant breakthrough isn’t heard or seen. Our heart questions and doubt knocks at the door. Continually hoping, today would be that day.
Today is the day I might get to call my friends and say, rejoice with me, breakthrough has come.
But it hasn’t.
Looking for Answers
I would do the tap tap thing on the ceiling with God. The same broomstick ‘hello to God’ as we give our loud neighbors. I doubt it would bring an answer any quicker, only reveal my impatience..
Louder taps for the ones whose precious lab runs laps chasing balls til midnight. But why would I?
Am I frustrated at God like I would be the owner of the lab? Is it because I think He isn’t hearing me? Is His silence reminding me He’s on it and He loves them more than I do?
Sinking hearts struggle accepting that.
My tap wouldn’t just be because of noise, but maybe to stir up a sound of rushing wind ushering in the yes to my prayer, or no. Just a clear definitive answer. I’m wasted in the gray.
Wandering through my dry season of silence. I kick my boots side to side, dust billows up as I make another decision to keep walking. Keep believing. Mostly, to keep my heart trusting.
We are all looking for answers. These answers are yearned for, but not coming fast enough or at all. This sting sinks down into my soul. I reach up to grab the fringe of hope, even when I feel it slipping through my fingers.
The Faint Heartbeat of Faith
I hook on and my faith is attempted to be resuscitated again. Faith has a faint heartbeat at times, but a heartbeat is a sign of life. So the faint beat of faith is heard.. The thump-thump is heard as trust-trust. I hear you Lord. Faintly, but I hear.
Loss has a way of convincing you that the writing on the wall is some kind of prophecy. I shred it in my prayers. Prayers being covered with tears of black streaks of mascara running down my cheeks, I try to see Jesus.
I cannot at this point even see the wall, let alone make sense out of the enemies attempts to tag my child and rewrite the destiny God has for her.
God is Faithful
But God is faithful. His word stands strong. It doesn’t change God’s plans or heart towards someone because it looks different to us.
These aren’t tears of defeat, oh no, they are tears of letting go so I am able to let God intervene. His love is bigger than my tears. When I let go, He takes hold. He leans in with His love.
Pain finds a way of escape through prayer. Purpose helps pain find the path.
They that wait on The Lord will renew their strength and mount up with the wings of an eagle, they will walk and faint not, they will run and not grow weary.
Let’s continue to trust the one who is trustworthy.