For the next several Thursdays, I’m going to do a series on one of my favorite people in scripture, Moses. He’s always been someone who’s fascinated me and caused me to alert to attention and focus on exactly what he went through. After all, this man went from prince, to shepherd, to political activist. What’s not to love about Moses?

Today’s blog is about the first couple of chapters of Exodus.

He was a fugitive. He had been ‘on the run’ for years. With every trip out to the mountain to watch the sheep, Moses also watched his back. The memory of killing the Egyptian taskmaster was always forefront in his mind. After all, when you’ve angered the superpower of the day, it’s not exactly easy to forget, move on, and start a new life.

Is it?

His past haunted him. He was raised by the princess of Egypt. She was really the only mother he had known. Sure, there was his nursemaid, who from a young age had taught him about the history of the children of Abraham, but his mother was royalty.

And he had royally messed up.

Cursed with a stutter, he always felt a little different. The other princes of Egypt were eloquent, regal. They commanded words like they one day would command an army. And he, Moses, was anything but commanding. He was a temperamental meek, inconsequential – nothing compared to all the grandeur and majesty of the Egyptian court.

At least he had Zipporah. His wife loved him. The life he had with her and his child was a quiet life, but a good one. No one ever got hurt watching sheep. No one would expect to see a prince of Egypt in the muck and mire of a sheep pen. He could hide there, sojourn in this land that was not his home, and be at peace. And if this was the life he had until he died, then by George he was fine with that. An honest living for a fearful man.

Only God had other plans.

The name Moses means to be drawn out, to be lifted from. When God called Moses, He used his name, not once but twice. God was going to draw this man out from his comfort, out of his safety net and right back into the world that Moses had been so desperately hiding from.

Amazing to think about, isn’t it?

It was a normal day for our anti-hero. He was back on the mountain, back at work, counting sheep and making plans. His wife and son were back, safe in their tent and Moses’s mind probably drifted back to the stew Zipporah promised him that morning. His eyes twinkled as he looked out at the sheep, listening to their gentle noises as they moved west, towards greener pastures, easier land, the mountain of God.

Ironic if you think about his story.

Perhaps it was the one lost stubborn lamb that caused Moses to separate himself from the herd and notice the burning bush. It was peculiar, causing all kinds of questions to running through his mind. With the hot dessert winds and the storms that would come in from the Sea, grass fires were not uncommon, but this one – this bush that was not being consumed no matter how long the fire raged on, was anything but commonplace.

Then the bush spoke. From the arms of a fire, God’s voice commanded Moses’s attention.

And Moses, the man who lived in fear, hid.

What I love about this account, and there are so many things, is that God met Moses where he was. God didn’t wait for Moses to decide to go back to Egypt or wait for Moses to get brave and go back to be with his people, no. God met Moses in the mountain in the midst of Moses’s running and hiding.

God does the same with us.

So often when we’re faced with life’s biggest challenges and things get rough, we retreat and go on the run. We curl up inside ourselves and don’t want to face what we need to. But God, in His infinite wisdom and understanding, meets us there.

God informed Moses that He was well aware of the Hebrew’s cries for salvation. God knew that for years they had been begging for release – to escape the taskmasters of Egypt and return to their promised land. God also told Moses that he would be the one to take them out.

Moses provided so many excuses for this and next week, we’re going to dive in depth and talk about each one and how we, in 2013, use the exact same excuses when God asks us to step outside our comfort zone.

Moses wasn’t a super hero. He wasn’t someone with amazing abilities that we’re not privy to. Instead, he was simply a man, called by God, to do His work.

And we can have the same experience today, if we’re willing.

I’m infertile.

Scratch that. It’s more than that.

I can’t biologically have children. Ever. No amount of infertility treatments or modern medicine could ever cause me to have a child. When others who struggle with this have hope, I have none.

And sometimes it hurts.

Scratch that. Most days it hurts.

To put it plainly: I was born with a hysterectomy – key parts required for baby-making are missing from my make up. I was born un-whole.

Different.

Broken.

To say that this has been one of the loudest cries I’ve ushered into Heaven is an understatement. I have been on my knees, crying out to God and declaring that It’s. Not. Fair. more than I ever care to admit.

After all, according to scripture, God formed me and made me. So if that’s true, that means He made me like this. This was His choice. His purpose. His plan.

Me.

Broken.

Oh. What a bitter pill to swallow.

For years (read: forever) I have continually smiled and told people, “It’s okay! I get it. It really doesn’t bother me that much! You see, God has a plan!”

And for years (read: forever) I lied.

Because for the longest time, it wasn’t okay to me. I didn’t get it. It really DID bother me. And I struggled, oh dear ones did I ever struggle, to believe that God had a plan.

Because nothing, nothing about me being that different seemed to compute in my head.

I grew bitter. Very bitter. I caught myself harboring anger, not just at God, but to any friends who had children. I pushed people away. Whenever someone my age or someone I was close to made the announcement, I swallowed hard, blinked back tears, and muttered something under my breath to God that reeked of despair and confusion.

How can a loving God withhold the very thing I thought I wanted the most?

It became a road block to relationships. As I got older and my friends got older, the more friends that had children, the less friends I held onto. How could I watch my friends raise children? How could I be around something that made my arms ache and my heart sink? It was my right to be bitter. To be angry. It was my right to self-preserve and guard my heart.

Right?

I pushed away lovely men. As soon as, in the dating process, someone would bring up wanting to have children, I’d break up with them – often without warning. I’d tell myself that I was doing them a favor, that in the long run it saved my own heartache and it saved theirs. And of course the few times that I opened my heart and shared it with a man I was interested in, well it didn’t turn out all that well.

To say that walls began to surround me is an understatement. Suddenly my life grew very, very small. I was terrified to let anyone in. I didn’t want to share my heart or tell others about how hurt I was. Whenever my infertility would come up, people, well meaning people, would say kind words and niceties and while I now appreciate their sentiment, at the time it only made me more bitter, more jaded. After all, how could they understand this? Especially if they had children. Especially if they got their

And so I grew more and more alone.

I hated it.

I wish I could say that now everything is GREAT and that I FULLY UNDERSTAND why I have to go through this. I wish I could say that God has told me His plan and that I now am fully living in the knowledge of why I was born with this extra challenge that most don't have to face.

Sorry. I can't.

But what I can say is that now I have realized that I don't know God's plan and I don't understand why I'm going through this and ... that's okay.

It is.

As I study scripture over and over again and really spend time with God, I'm starting to realize that so often God doesn't explain his plan to us, but rather simply equips us to deal with whatever comes our way. Even if we're not aware of it.

And as I start to understand exactly how God sees things, I start to relax and fully trust Him.

Here's the thing: we all have something. Every human being will experience something during their life that will tempt us to throw up our hands in the air and cry out to God that it’s not fair.

Because, well, it’s not.

I don’t know what you’re going through today. Perhaps you’re struggling with depression and you just can’t shake it. Maybe someone you love is dying and your heart is breaking as you think of all the things you’ve always wanted to say to them. Maybe someone you trust broke that and you’re standing there wondering what went wrong and how everything could go downhill so fast. Maybe the life you’re leading is not the life you planned and you wonder how you got so far off track.

I get it.

I do.

What I’m realizing more and more every day is that it’s not God’s job to tell us why we’re going through the valley. It’s His job to go through the valley with us.

Oh get that. Please get that.

God has never promised that life would be easy. In fact no where in scripture did He say it would be fair. However time and time again, He promised to go through the situation with us and before us.

“It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.” Deuteronomy 31:8

What if the moments that are the hardest, the darkest valleys, and the most unfair acts are simply because God wants to show us He is there. He is here. And we are not alone.

I’m learning to give my infertility over to God. I’m learning to pray to Him honestly, telling Him that I don’t get it, but Lord USE it. Don’t let my infertility go to waste. Let this darkness I’ve gone through be used by Him for His glory.

And it’s changing everything.

If you look at scripture, time and time again, God uses people who faced TREMENDOUS difficulty. Moses had a stuttering problem. He cried out to God that he couldn’t be used and God reminded him that He created his tongue.

He created me.

Job dealt with tremendous loss and he cried out to God wondering why. Although God never told Job why, God did remind Job that He was in control and He formed the earth. Nothing can escape God’s hand.

My burdens can’t.

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego faced fire, literally, and determined that whether or not God would physically save them, He would still be glorified. They went trusting God, not blaming.

My pain can glorify God.

Oh, how I have struggled with perspective. I focus too much on me and my pain and say that it’s my right to wallow and be bitter, but oh it’s not.

It’s not.

You see, God has a bigger picture. We look at our lives as a glimpse, a moment. He sees the entire picture, from eternity past to future and if I choose, I get the privileged of being a PART of His complete plan – flaws, pain and all.

When we take what we’re dealing with and ask the honest questions with God – to acknowledge that life is flawed and unfair and that doesn’t negate the fact that God is good, that His mercy is everlasting.

It’s not an either or.

In fact, it’s anything but.

Do I understand why I can’t ever have kids? No.

Will I ever? Maybe not.

Does that hurt? You bet it does.

But is God still good? Yes, absolutely.

Can God use this and use me? I have no doubt in that.

Trust in God. Ask Him to USE your sorrow, to use your pain. As you do, and trust me, I’m speaking from experience, your view will change of what you’re going through.

Will your circumstances change? Possibly not. But how you view your circumstance and how you handle your grief will change as your view of God grows into the vastness that He is.

Trust me.

No.

Trust Him.

Today I woke up overwhelmed by God’s goodness.

His mercy is without ceasing and His grace is without measure.

His kindness and goodness knows no end.

There is so much I want to share today, so much that I’m bursting forth to shout from the rooftops, but I’m going to remain quiet on that front – for at least awhile.

Instead, oh friends, instead I’m going to simply recount the ways God has been good and thank Him for my blessings.

Lord thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for this life you’ve given me. Thank you that I can trust you, Lord. I praise you for your patience with me and for your gentle hand when my mind tweaks and I start to cave to doubts and storms. Lord, like Peter, I know that the second my eyes leave yours, I start to sink, but God thank you that your outstretched arms are there to catch me, even when I don’t deserve it. Praise you for everything, God! Thank you for who You are.

Thank you for this life. This life that I’ve bemoaned and wept over – it is the life you’ve given me. So I praise you for it.

Forever and ever amen.

I thank you for:

Your mercy. My sin, oh the bliss, of this glorious thought. My sin, not in part BUT IN WHOLE, is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more!

Your grace. It still amazes me, Lord. I did not deserve it. But I will sing of it forever.

The sun. Lord, it’s a small thing, but so important. The sun is shining and you are in it. In each ray, warming us and reminding us of the hope we have in You.

Friendships. Oh Lord, in your time on earth, you experienced friendships first hand. You know what it’s like to have dear people you can cry and laugh with and thank you Lord for our relationships with each other. The sweetness of friends is so, so dear.

My barrenness. Lord, this is a gift. You spoke of it in your word. Blessed is the woman who is barren – God. Help me to embrace this gift of yours. To see YOU in the emptiness and allow you to fill up that part of me. I’m so grateful for how you created me and help me not to be tempted to peer into the life I was never intended to have.

The unexpected joys of new relationships. Father for continually bringing new people in my life that become as dear to me as my friends of years. Thank you.

The return of birds to my area. Father as you will return to us in a season, the birds remind us of just that.

The taste of lemons. Thank you, Lord. For the sweet joke you’ve played on all of us as we bite full force into a lemon and our taste buds revolt.

The sound of walking through the woods.

The warm grass between my toes.

My allergies. As painful as they are, they made me more aware of food and taught me compassion. Thank you for that hard earned lesson.

My bought with depression. It made me who I am. You made me who I am. You never left my side and God, you taught me love, hope, and Your timing.

For You. For this. For all.

Forever and ever, amen.

—

What is your list of gratitude? What can you thank God for today? When we focus on His goodness, the fears and worries of this world slowly leave. Trust me. This I know.

I woke up early this morning and laid in bed thinking. Thoughts and doubts and worries began to plague me and I started to worry about things I had no reason to worry about. Questions started circling and I found myself wrestling with God over ‘what ifs’.

I would throw a scenario at God and say, “But God, what if this happens and that would mean …” And then, trying to comfort myself, I didn’t wait to hear back from God. Instead, I mentally worked out a plan on how i would combat the what if, if it happened.

And suddenly I felt exhausted.

It’s no wonder. In this world, so many horrible and uncertain things can happen and it’s so easy to wind up trying to live in self-preservation mode. We’re taught to be self-reliant and taught to be self-sufficient, so when we start to try to figure out things in our own way, we can justify it in so many different ways.

Or maybe I’m the only one.

Don’t get me wrong: having a plan is important. Knowing how you would respond to a scenario is good. I won’t argue with that at all, however it becomes an issue when you start relying on yourself more because you’re doubting that God can take care of it.

There. I said it.

And that, my friends, is the center of my struggle – all my struggles. It’s the center of my depression, worry, and anxiety – I doubt God. So often in my life I’ve been tossed back and forth like a rag doll and I’ve cried out to God and have felt alone.

Maybe you have too.

So you start to build up a shell. You start to ‘help’ God. You start to give God ‘advice’. In fact, in the darkest corners of your mind you start to almost ‘have God’s back’.

Instead of expecting God to be there, you try to figure it out on your own so you won’t be disappointed by silence.

Or maybe that’s just been me.

However it changes today because something hit me.

It hit me like a ton of feathers (because God wouldn’t hit me with bricks).

This morning as I was laying there worrying, I felt God speak to me. Quietly, but firmly, He said, “With God, there are no what ifs.”

I jolted slightly because I had never even considered that before. I mean, think about it. When Christ died on the cross, He cried out, “It is finished.” So what does that mean? Did it just mean that He had died for our salvation? Yes, it did mean that, but I think it meant more than that.

Because we have to understand what He saved us from.

Salvation is more than just a fire insurance policy. It’s so much more than that. Salvation is God aligning us with Himself and declaring us righteous when there was nothing we could do about it. It was God taking on our sins and forgiving and removing them from our lives in order that we can be redeemed, set free, and made whole.

So when does that begin? Heaven? Death? In the future?

No, it begins the moment you accept it.

I accept it.

So if I believe that I’ve been made whole and that Christ declared it finished, then don’t I have to believe that nothing I come up against in this earth will be too hard for me to handle?

That’s just one promise.

If we claim that our sin is finished – that we’ve been made whole, we also can claim that nothing will separate us from His love.

Nothing.

Paul spoke on that over and over again and if anyone knew about the worry of something separating us from God’s favor it would have been Paul. He openly blasphemed our Lord and set out to kill all Christians. So he understood what it was like to be going against God.

And yet, God chose him.

God chose me too.

And you.

My sin, my doubt, my anxiety all of that will not separate God’s love for me. Because God’s love for me has nothing to do with me and all to do with Him.

No what ifs.

So often I struggle with how I’ll handle a situation or if I think something or do something, will my life be instantly ruined.

It’s an exhausting way to live.

But what if (oh the irony) instead of focusing on the what ifs, I simply go, “God, in your work on the cross, you finished this issue. This sin, this doubt, this worry is finished. And your love will encompass anything I go through. I claim this Lord, because your word is true.”

What if we started LIVING the thing we’ve been LEARNING about and apply God’s word to our lives?

Wouldn’t the what ifs start disappearing?

Isn’t it time to claim that It is Finished and that God is in control?

It is. For me.

When I was in junior high, which admittedly was centuries ago (Moses was our PE teacher – always making us go on hikes), there became an interesting fashion statement. I don’t remember how it started. I wish I could. More than likely one of us saw it on some TV show like Dawson’s Creek and knew that we had to do it to remain cool.

We would take safety pins, small ones, and fill them with beads. Each girl had their own pattern and style. Some would go with one solid colors and others with a pattern. It varied, depending on who you were and how many beads you owned.

Mine were orange and yellow and I was so proud of them. I had bought gold pins from Walmart and thought it was the coolest looking thing ever. They were even better than my Rachel hair cut and bib overalls. Like for reals.

But you see, though, it wasn’t about the pin. It’s never about just the pin.

It was what the pins stood for.

We’d pass them out to all of our friends, the pins, and wear them attached to our shoes. We’d slide them over our shoe laces or pin them to the tongue. They quickly covered our canvas Keds and made the white cotton come alive with color and texture. Soon those pins represented more than just bad 90s fashion. They were all about popularity, being liked, being accepted.

Adored.

The girls with the most pins on their shoes meant they had the most friends. It was basic math, it really was. But it was more than just sheer numbers, it also seemed to matter who’s pin you had. Certain people’s pins held higher value. Whispers filled the hallway when someone got one of Stacey’s pins. Especially when it was someone who, in the eyes of our pint sized jury, didn’t deserve it.

And like all things girl, the sweetest ideas and the simplest games quickly turned to quiet desperation as we all scrambled to make sure we wore the right amount of the right pins. It became a balancing act: accept too many pins and you are a desperate social climber. If you had too few you were either elitist or a pathetic nobody. If all your pins were the same pattern you only had one friend because no one else could stand you and if you didn’t have a SINGLE pin, well then you were invisible, a nothing in the Junior High Social Ladder.

A fate worse than death.

Soon, very soon, accusations of pin faking ran through the school as we felt certain girls obviously couldn’t have gotten those pins on their own. Many a friendship was ruined by a bestie claiming that a friend had made their OWN pins in a certain girls’ pattern to add to their shoe.

We were all craving acceptance, love, and it seemed like this way was the only way.

Because, really, what better way to tell the world that you are accepted than to wear pins on your shoes for all to see.

Or not.

Thankfully that trend slowly became passe once slap bracelets entered the scene and while certain girls probably wore their pins long after the fashion was out of date, the pin craze was gone for good.

The only problem was what it taught us.

That never left.

You see, we live in a world where it’s still all about the right things, the right people. Too often we look for friends not based on their value as a person, but how it will pad our social status.

Now, listen, I’m not saying that we do it deliberately, we are far too sophisticated for that. We justify it to ourselves:

They’ll make a great contact!

There has to be a reason why they’re always alone. Clearly they’re not worth my time.

And so the story goes, twenty years later.

As I flip open my Bible and look at who Christ befriended, I can’t help but laugh. Social networking and social cache never seemed to cross his mind as he hung out with thieves and vagabonds and tax collectors. He walked down the streets and bee-lined to those that society had rejected time and time again.

The misfits.

The outcasts.

Us.

My heart soars as I see him heal the leper and I hear of his kind words to the woman caught in adultery. Even now my eyes tear up as I imagine Mathew’s, the tax collector, reaction to being called as one of the twelve, leaving behind his reputation and personal demons to follow after a Christ who would renew and restore him.

I look around the world right now and I see so many least of these and I’m cut to the gut because I know that if I’m being honest, truly honest, often times I don’t look at the least without compassion but with judgment.

I think of all the times I’ve been to the store and have seen the haggard looking mother trying to corral her children. Instead of sympathy and compassion, I think snide comments about her children’s appearance and their behavior. I tell myself that if they were my kids, they’d be better behaved or quiet.

You did it to me.

I think of the man standing on the side of the road with a cardboard sign in hand. How often I immediately jump to the conclusions and assume things that I have no business placing on him. How I avoid his eyes as I drive passed him, not wanting to meet his face for fear that something will tug in my heart and I’ll have to do something about it.

You did it to me.

The times that I’ve watched the news and seen things that are horrific and gut wrenching and complain about how society is going to hell and people today are morally corrupt, but yet I’m not out there sharing His word with this world and telling others about hope. His hope.

You did it to me.

To the one who has been to rehab multiple times, who has made public mistakes and shared private hell. The times I’ve heard his story and shook my head, rolling my eyes that he’ll never change and that people like him are ruining this world.

You did it to me.

The person who shows up late
shows up dirty
forgets to show up

The person who is out of luck
out of time
out of money

The person who is addicted to love
to substance
to fame

I judge.

I do.

And that’s wrong.

The mentality that became ingrained at me far too young was to collect the good, to keep the people closest to me that society deems as right and good and to make sure that no one sees me talking to the outcasts.

To the least of these.

It saddens me how very little things change as time marches on. I mean, sure, we grow more mature and have sophistication and rationalites for nearly everything we do. We might make better fashion choices, but do we make better heart ones?

And if not, isn’t it time to change?

I think it’s time to throw away the trophy beads and look past the exterior to the heart of the matter – to where life and faith and everything meet and makes sure that what are lips are saying is where are hands are reaching.

It’s time to act, change, and grow up.

It is for me.

Have you ever had a long week? Maybe you’ve had a long month? I don’t know, maybe even a long year?

I get it. Me too.

I’ve been struggling lately because there have been things that I’ve been praying about, specific things, that I’m just not seeing answers. And it’s causing my faith to shake, just a little.

I’m just being honest here.

I find myself approaching the throne of grace nervously, almost like I’m apprehensive to keep asking. The problem is, it’s not that I don’t believe God can fix everything and change hearts and guard my mind and answer every request and every plea just so perfectly. It’s not that at all.

The problem is that I do believe He can and when I don’t see it with my own two eyes, in my own life, I get jaded, confused, impatient.

It’s funny, isn’t it? When we see answers to prayer over and over again and we see life adding up just perfectly, we sing His praises to the roof and tell everyone about how great life is and how great our God is. But when our requests are met with silence, we grow silent too.

We do.

I do.

My view of God is so big but sometimes my faith is so small and I find myself wrestling with where my faith meets my reality.

Story of my life.

Lately I’ve been pulling away from God just a little bit. I haven’t even realized that I have, but it’s true. Even as I write this, it’s hitting me that I’ve held Him at a distant, afraid that I’ll mess up or show a side of myself to Him that He doesn’t know and disappoint Him.

And in keeping with the honesty this blog needs, maybe I was afraid that I would be disappointed in more silence from Him.

That feels so irreverent to type, but maybe I’m not the only one. Maybe I’m not the only one that wrestles with where to put God when life is not making sense and prayers go unanswered.

But that’s not good enough. Not for me. I don’t want to keep God at a distance because frankly it doesn’t make any sense. God is everywhere and no matter how I’m feeling about Him or life at the moment, doesn’t change who He is one iota.

My view of God doesn’t affect who He is or what He can do. My view of God only affects what I see of Him and what I experience that He does.

In other words, when I pitch a hissy because I’m not getting my way, I’m only hurting myself.

Ouch.

I went to the Word, because where else can I go to seek answers? I found myself thumbing through Paul’s writing. I love that man, Paul. I relate to him so much. He gets it. He gets what it’s like to have a past you just want to forget and what it’s like to have been so confident in what you believe only to have the rug pulled out from you and to be blinded by the truth.

I have been there.

My fingers founds II Corinthians and slowly Paul’s words washed over me like a healing balm.

So to keep me from becoming conceited because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, to keep me from becoming conceited. Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

(2 Corinthians 12:7-10 ESV)

Paul prayed to Jesus three times to remove this thorn, whatever it may be, from his life. And he didn’t get the answer he was seeking. In fact, God saw fit for Paul to keep that thorn, that problem, that storm for the rest of his life.

For the rest of his life.

One of my struggles and oh I can’t believe I’m going to admit this, is that even though I know it’s grace that saves me alone and that nothing I can do can make God love me, sometimes I … struggle with trying to earn God’s favor. And what I mean by that is, if I’m praying for something and not seeking an answer, suddenly I’m trying to be perfect and beating myself up over every mistake and I’m trying to prove to God that I deserve to get what I’m asking for.

And that’s impossible.

You see, the Bible says all of our righteousness are as filthy rags. That’s a tough pill to swallow. I can’t earn God’s love. I can’t earn His favor. I can’t perform for Him and suddenly get my way. Look at Paul, although he had a past that was forgiven and his sins were tossed into the sea like all of ours are, he followed God big time. He did amazing things to further the Gospel into places that many other disciples were afraid to go because of prejudice or just fear. God used Paul and Paul was eager and willing to be used and yet, Paul still didn’t always get what he was asking for – even when he was asking sincerely and asking for something that was unselfish and what we would consider spiritual.

Because sometimes God says no.

And sometimes God is silent.

And that has to be okay.

Because He is God and we are not.

God tends to work in themes in my life and frankly this is no exception. I stumbled across a song from an artist I admire, but had never heard this one before and it so fits.

Send some rain, would You send some rain?
‘Cause the earth is dry and needs to drink again
And the sun is high and we are sinking in the shade
Would You send a cloud, thunder long and loud?
Let the sky grow black and send some mercy down
Surely You can see that we are thirsty and afraid
But maybe not, not today
Maybe You’ll provide in other ways
And if that’s the case . . .

We’ll give thanks to You
With gratitude
For lessons learned in how to thirst for You
How to bless the very sun that warms our face
If You never send us rain.

Perhaps God is simply wanting to teach us, to teach me, to simply lean on Him for everything. Because if all of my struggles, if everything I’m going through suddenly disappeared, would I become too self-reliant? Would I stop ever seeking Him? Would I become overly-confident and spoiled?

Possibly.

Probably.

I am human.

Christ told Paul that His grace was sufficient.

His grace is sufficient.

For me.

And for you too.

I don’t know what storms you’re going through. I don’t know what prayer you have been praying for years and decades and falling on your face to God to see change and you’re met with the loudest silence you’ve ever experienced.

Praying for loved ones, for loneliness, for arms that ache for a child to hold, or for a mind to be at peace, sometimes God simply says… I’ve given you my grace, my child. My grace is sufficient.

And that is worthy of praise.

So I’m going to choose to live in Thankfulness. To thank God even when His silence makes my mind reel. And when satan whispers lies to me in moments of weakness, I will ignore those and listen to the Voice of Truth and praise God for being God and for grace, which is enough.

It is enough.

I love art. I don’t know about you, but I love decorating my place with photographs and original pieces that just make me happy.

My friend Amy is an amazing and talented photographer who has been snapping photos for well over twelve years. Amy lives in Colorado and her art reflects that. What amazes me is that every picture I see that she’s taken, she focuses on the small things that so many of us pass by daily without noticing. From her insect pictures, to her foliage prints, to the scenic mountains of Colorado, nature is definitely her muse and the music she makes from her camera is a visual symphony for all who have had the privilege to see it.

I’m so excited to say that she just opened an etsy shop and is featuring her wonderful work for people to purchase to have in their homes. Her prints are top notch and she will be adding more over the coming days. Not only is her art unique and complementary to nearly any design aesthetic, but she’s making each print available in a variety of sizes to fit nearly any frame.

Check it out. Bookmark it and come back to it often. I’m 100% convinced that nearly everyone will find something that catches their eye and will soon decide that it’s a must have for their own photography collections.