the time i cursed at God and He didn’t leave me

I’ve had an injured knee for about two and half years.

I had surgery for it in October (after years of exhausting all other options) and supposedly should be able to run right now.

I can’t.

At least, not yet.

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And it’s not like I was a crazy, hardcore runner before – I wasn’t. In fact, I didn’t “do” anything to injure my knee. It just started hurting one day – and then it never stopped.

I promise I’m not whining. I’m not. Maybe I am.

But hear me out: I’m extremely thankful for my overall health, the use of my limbs, the food on my table, the roof over my head, the health of my family – it’s all abundantly more than I could have ever asked for.

And I’m so thankful for it.

But chronic pain….it does something to a person after years go by. Especially when people keep telling you “it will get better in X number of months” over and over and over and months go by and it doesn’t get better and you’re left wondering why.

And chronic pain…it never lets you forget. It’s there when you turn over in bed, it’s there when you walk down the stairs, it’s there when you wake up and it’s there when you go to sleep. It’s there when you can’t dance at weddings. It’s there when you watch people play frisbee. It’s there when you fall trying to sit on the floor. It’s just there.

And now I really am whining. Sorry. Over now.

Two weeks ago, recovery for my knee took a bad turn, and not only did it scare me, it absolutely brought me to my knees.

I’d spent so much time trying, trying, trying, praying, praying, praying, hoping, hoping, hoping…

And I was just finally done. Done. Done. Done.

Done.

And I told God as much. I’m all for being real, so I’ll be real: I yelled at God. YELLED at Him. YELLLLLLLLED at Him like I don’t think I’ve ever yelled at anyone before in my entire life. (I was alone in the house. I might have scared the cats, though. I haven’t asked them.)

My angry, tear-filled rant sounded something like this, but only after I chucked my bible study onto the ground for dramatic effect:I’ve been faithful to You. I’ve done everything every doctor has ever told me to do. And all the while, I’ve read the Bible and I’ve tried to trust You and I’ve stayed positive and I’ve looked for the bright side in this whole thing and I’ve prayed and I’ve asked You for healing EVERY DAY FOR YEARS and I know you CAN heal but YOU WON’T ANSWER ME! WHY WON’T YOU HEAL ME?!”

Then I cursed. At God. With my finger pointed all crooked and accusing in His direction. Again and again. 

I know. My whole face burns with embarrassment as I write this. See my sin in all its ugliness: I cursed at the face of my Creator. At the One who loved me before I knew love. I cursed at Perfect Love Himself. At perfect Holiness and Purity. I cursed at the one I’d already nailed to the cross.

I did.

But then something even crazier and more scandalous happened.

He met me there.

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I didn’t scare Him away. He wasn’t angry at me. I wasn’t struck down by lightning. I wasn’t given an “F” on my Christian Report Card.

Instead, over the next few days, I felt Him bending down nearer and nearer, leaning in, gently whispering, “Thanks for being honest with Me. You can trust me with all of you. I love you. I want all of you. I want intimacy with you. I don’t want your mask. I already know what’s underneath. I knew every word you’d spoken to me before you spoke it. And I still love you. I always will. You can’t change how I feel about you.”

It absolutely scandalized me. And confused me. I was slightly offended, in fact.

Because I hadn’t been good. I’d been ugly. But He didn’t punish me. Things aren’t supposed to work that way, right? Not in the economy of perfectionism.

Perfect Love tends to do that to perfectionism – exposes it for the fake security that it is.

“There is no fear in love. Perfect love casts out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love” (1 John 4:18, emphasis mine).

Can I fast forward to today?

Two weeks later from when I cursed at God and walked out on Him and called Him names?

Today, Michael and I walked 4 miles. Outside. In the sunshine.

And it felt ah-mazing!! Did you just read that?

I WALKED 4 MILES.

It didn’t hurt! At all!

I literally can’t remember the last time Michael and I have been able to do that together.

In fact, over the past two weeks, my physical therapist has been amazed at the sudden spurt of growth and progress I’ve had in my knee.

I’ve done more in the past two weeks than I’ve been able to do in the past two years – all with little to no pain.

All this outpouring of blessing. All this answered prayer. And all….after I failed God. After I cursed at the Healer Himself and accused the Faithful One of being unfaithful. After I walked out on Him.

Y’all.

I’ve never been more in love with Jesus. And not because my knee is doing well. I do love that, but that’s not why I love Him more.

It’s because when I let Him see me, really see me, He still liked me.

I let Him in on the good, the bad, the ugly, and He didn’t turn away.

He welcomed me, anger and all. I was fully known. Fully accepted. Fully loved. Fully hemmed in, behind and before.

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He didn’t punish me for spewing anger His way. He didn’t make my knee worse. (Yes. I was actually afraid of that.)

On the contrary, like David said, God actually blessed me in the weeks that followed:

“When I was beleaguered and bitter…in Your very presence…I’m still in Your presence, but You’ve taken my hand. You wisely and tenderly lead me, and then You bless me” (psalm 73:21-24 msg version, emphasis mine).

I did apologize for treating God badly – for being mean to Him. That’s not how I would have talked to a friend. To my dad. To myself.

But He “made me lie down in green pastures…He restored my soul” (psalm 23 v. 2-3).

He made me lie down. He brought me to my knees.

And then He raised me up.

I’ve never felt more secure or loved…or calm. All of a sudden, I’m praying all day. I’m not trying to, I just am. I’m just talking with Someone who already knows and already loves.

Y’all. With confidence: we can trust Him. We can trust Him. We can trust Him.

You can’t scare Him off. And you certainly can’t out-perform Him.

Perfect Love won’t punish us. He punished Himself for us.

Mmm. Yes.

It’s scandalous. Scandalous grace.

 

Blessings, sunshine, fresh air, and long walks to you,

Robyn

when you just want a fast-forward button

Happy Wednesday!

Here’s a recap of my past couple weeks:

[  Writer’s Blocksee: organizing pens in rainbow order; playing fetch with the cat; coming dangerously close to cleaning the oven; playing fetch with the cat a second time.  ]

But I’ve heard that writer’s block happens to the best of us. That it’s all part of the process.

The process.

Oh, good gracious.

It took a teary-eyed and quivery-lipped me looking over at Michael and informing him that maybe I’ve been wrong about this whole book endeavor because “it just doesn’t feel right at the moment and do we still have that box of thin mints and I’m going to Target to buy some new Essie polish and a candle and maybe a throw pillow” for me to face the truth: the best processes, the very best ones, take time.

Mainly the [[process = time]] thought hit me when Michael cocked his head and furrowed his brow in response to my teary-eyed statement and then matter-of-factly asked me,Rob. Are you working on your book pitch right now? Or your synopsis?”

*Sniffled. Took a bite of three thin mints at once. Nodded.*

And so Michael laughed and sat down next to me on the couch and gave me a hug.

Then he reminded me that I said those exact same words the last time I had to work on a book pitch.

Oh.

Right.

See, the pitch and the synopsis come toward the end of the book writing process.

They’re like…mile 7 of a 10 mile run, where mile 7 consists of running a straight shot up a mountain the whole time. And also maybe being simultaneously shot at with nerf guns. (Just kidding about the nerf guns. But we played with them yesterday and they’re awesome.)

And so by this point in the book process I’M SO READY TO SEND THIS PUPPY OUT.

So ready.

But it’s not time to send it out yet. Not quite.

Because it’s worth doing right. And it’s worth doing right because I treasure my work greatly.

Like us, I think.

God treasures us greatly. And so He takes His precious time with us.

And so then I thought about LOTS of processes that take time and are treasured and are so worth it.

Forming a baby takes 9 months.

Adopting a baby can take years.

Education takes 13 years. At least.

Physical therapy to heal the muscles so you can run free again takes at least 2 months. (Hey there, IT band!)

A good night’s sleep takes 8 hours.

Deep friendships take years to form.

Standing in line for the new Harry Potter ride took 45 minutes (TOTALLY worth it).

Re—heating leftovers in the oven for 30 minutes is way better than heating them in the microwave for 1 minute.

God used 7 days to create the earth.

Jesus waited until He was in His thirties to start His ministry that led to our full redemption.

And completing His good work in us will take our lifetimes (Phil 1:6).

You know, it seems like the best things in life don’t happen instantly. Not at all. 

And maybe it drives us a little crazy sometimes because we can’t see the end result of the process like He can.

And so maybe that’s why He tells us to “Relax! Be silent and stop your striving, and you will see that I am God” (psalm 46:10 passion version).

Because we’re His workmanship, and our hearts are His good work. We’re worth the time to Him. We’re worth the process.

Plus, I feel like if He wanted us to hurry all the time, He’d say so. But He says the opposite. Be still.

I’d love to give my heart permission to be still.

So, It’s not that He’s ignoring us or dropped the ball because something’s taking too long.

It’s that we’re worth the painstaking and beautiful process to Him (Isaiah 43:4).

Even better, through all these processes in our lives, in whatever process we find ourselves, the heavy lifting isn’t ours.

We lift our eyes upward, trusting Him to hold every detail of every process of ours in His hands (John 3:35), because He is faithful to complete His good work in us (Phil 1:6) because His plans for us are good (Jeremiah 29:11) and because He works all things for our good (Romans 8:28).

So the next time we get impatient or discouraged because why is it taking so long?…let’s remember this, dear friends:

We’re too precious to the Father to be the instant kraft mac and cheese. We’re that delicious and totally-worth-it stovetop kind. [[ Disclaimer: writer’s block may induce these types of analogies. ]]

So let’s relax & give thanks for the process we’re in today. Because it’s beautiful grace.

Blessings & laughs & beautiful stillness to you,

Robyn

Dear Michael

Dear Michael,

Last night I saw God in you.

You didn’t know it – you were too busy teasing me, trying to make me guess what that gift is under the tree.

The one you wrapped up all nice with a bow while I was out, just because.

Because you know how much presents under the tree stir something in my heart like a little girl and the joy and smiles come so naturally with gifts…especially when they’re gifts from you.

And so you wrapped my Christmas present the day it came in the mail.

Because you couldn’t wait.

Christmas Present

And so when I came home late, tired from a full day, you held our cat and he bit your hand and you pointed to under the tree and there was the first gift of Christmas, wrapped carefully, just for me.

It looked so perfect under those Christmas tree lights.

You even agreed to take my picture with it…because you know that for me, it’s the First Gift of Christmas and worth celebrating with my tired, goofy grin from a long day.

But it’s not just about gifts, and you know that.

Because your love language is acts of service and so when I dropped your shirts off at the dry cleaning yesterday, I gave you a love letter.

And my love language is gifts and so when you wrapped that present up for me two and half weeks early and smiled that grin because you saw my own grin, you gave me a love letter, too.

But you reminded me of something.

We spent close to an hour laughing while we took turns wrangling Tuck and guessing about that gift.

I threw out every idea I could think it would be, and you just kept laughing because you knew I wouldn’t find out until Christmas, but it sure was funny watching me try.

And really, you didn’t know, but watching you watch me was the best part of it all.

You absolutely delighted in delighting me.

Your big smile and your kind eyes shining…watching your bride guess what gift she has coming…well, you radiated Jesus’s love.

I couldn’t help but think this morning how…if that’s how a mere man can feel, giving a gift, wrapping it up, waiting for the right moment to let his bride enjoy it…that must be a taste of what it looks like up in Heaven.

Our Perfect Father, lavishing good and perfect gifts on His people, the church…

…lavishing mercy and hope in the midst of our messes

…lavishing peace and joy in the midst of our chaos

…lavishing sunsets and bright grass and bare winter trees and warm water and colors and books and laughter and space heaters and picture frames and time to look upward & worship in the midst of our daily tasks

and all the while, I like to think, of our Perfect Father radiating perfect love, basking in the joy of watching us all enjoy His gifts…and even more, warming in delight as we recognize our gifts are from Him because He is good and perfect and because He loves us.

So Michael, last night, you showed me a glimpse of our Father’s love.

A small taste of Heaven’s smile.

An encouragement to delight in the Giver of good and perfect gifts.

A thought that perhaps…the gleam in your eye is a reflection, made in His image…of an even greater gleam in His eyes toward us.

Love,

your wife

p.s. – I’m about to wrap your present, too…so start guessing!

When you’re tired of performing for God

…because we weren’t made to perform for God. We aren’t wired for performance at all.

We’re made to enjoy God. To worship Him. To love Him.

To walk leisurely with Him in the garden in the cool of evening.

And yet, we find ourselves so often running hard in the opposite direction.

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Instead of enjoying God’s love, we easily fall into the trap of earning God’s love.

Or doing the right thingperforming…to show Him how much we love Him.

Or to show Him…how good we are.

But…

we just…

…can’t.

We keep trying, but…

…we mess up…

…we won’t ever live up to our own standards

…or to the imagined standards we think God holds us to.

And then, we feel…guilty.

Because we just…can’t…do it.

Because…how can you live up to standards that don’t really exist, anyway?

Let’s not be deceived, dear hearts.

There’s only one standard God holds us to.

Jesus.

My heart breathes and exhales and I close my eyes, and…Jesus.

What we could not do…what we cannot do…He did for us once and for all

…for every day…of our whole lives…we can’t mess up what He has done

…and Jesus has freed us from a life of failed performance and delivered us into a life of God With Us.

Forever.

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Since Jesus so freely gifted us with communion with God, who are we not to take it?

I’ve written a few words to help myself meander back into that garden place with God.

I have these words written on an index card to take with me anywhere and remind myself of my right standing before God, and I pray these words might help you find your way back to that garden place, too.

I will not feel guilty today. I am already perfect in God’s eyes. (2 Cor 5:21, Psalm 139:14) God leads with powerful love – not with guilt. I have nothing to fear, because God’s perfect love casts out all fear.(1 John 4:18) I will enjoy today as a gift from God, not as a maze I have to figure out. (1 Thes 5:18) God’s goodness and mercy follow me wherever I go (psalm 23:6), and I walk through this day under the banner of God’s perfect love & with the shield of faith, believing God’s Word. (Eph 6:16-17, Psalm 136, Romans 8:38-39, Psalm 103: 4,8,17, Romans 5:8, John 3:16, John 15:13)

Blessings to you, and may you enjoy Him & rest in His abundant love for you today!

Robyn

when i asked the scariest question of all

I would love to share a bit of my story with you…

Here’s why.

I was nervous to lead worship last week.

But it wasn’t the good, excited kind of nervous.

It was the nervous that happens when thoughts creep in like, “What if they decide I’m not good enough to come back and do it again? What if I choke up there? What if I sound bad? What if they think…?”

And these are not worship-leading thoughts.

And they bothered me. I knew I couldn’t lead worship like that, but I also knew singing to the Lord and inviting others to sing with me breathes life into my heart.

I couldn’t surrender to those thoughts, so I prayed.

And just like He promises, Jesus bent down low to my quiet plea and came near.

He whispered gently, quietly, the question I simply couldn’t ask myself.

Because at first, it was literally the scariest question I could face.

It was the question He used to unlock my heart and set it free.

“What if they do decide you’re not good enough, Beloved? What if you do mess up? What if you don’t sound your best? What if they never invite you back?

Who are you, then, Beloved?”

And I swallowed hard in the realization and My heart popped out of my chest and the house I’d built upon shifting sand was gone.

Where to put my house, my identity? Where to place it? MyLANTA, is there nowhere on this Earth safe enough, secure enough, to rest in who God made me to be?

No. Blessed truth, no.

Not here.

May I share a bit of my story with you? It seems I’ve been in a sort of identity crisis for lots of (most of) my life until now.

I had a very comfortable childhood, a wonderful family with loving parents who are still together to this day.

I had an even more comfortable growing-up and teenage life, which Michael informs me is weird.

I loved high school. I found my placemy identityand I built my house upon it.

I led worship at our FCA and at youth group. I was the guitar-playing, singing chick who loved Jesus and loved singing to Him and that was my identity.

I had awesome friends and they were my identity.

I was crowned homecoming queen, and that was my identity.

Homecoming

Needless to say, I was a pretty confident girl headed to college but whose confidence and identity was built upon a foundation of sand.

I joined a sorority. And all of a sudden, I wasn’t the only homecoming queen.

I was literally surrounded by homecoming queens.

The sand started to slip.

My grandfather passed away.

My loving family looked different to me now.

Death happened.

More sand slipped.

I tried out for the worship team of my campus ministry.

I didn’t make it.

I wasn’t a worship leader anymore.

The sand slipped.

Lots of friends headed a different direction than me.

I wasn’t in my friend bubble anymore.

And the sand was gone.

And all through college, my Jesus walked with me and picked up my broken pieces, but still I was so insecure and couldn’t figure out why.

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Fast forward to post-college, and I became a teacher. My new identity. My new house to in which to rest my heart and yet it was built upon sand again.

It seemed pretty secure until I was told with the harsh words of misdirected anger that I simply wasn’t good enough, and was laid off.

I taught for a bit longer elsewhere, and then became a writer.

Relief, a new identity.

Positive feedback came with my first book, and my house upon sand seemed golden.

And then, I found a book so similar to mine that I had to put my project on its shelf and start from scratch.

My timeline of publishing books for children wasn’t panning out the way I had planned.

What if I never publish a book? Who am I, God?”

This cry of my heart came to a head when I was asked to lead worship last week.

And then Jesus, upon His throne of mercy, stooped down to me in a pew as I prayed and cried and He whispered,

“You are mine. I am yours. You’re identity is Me.”

What?

“We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure…” Hebrews 6:19.

The eyes of my heart were opened in sudden seeing. Seeing freedom. Seeing the Rock on which to build my house of identity for the first time.

Jesus says, “I will never change. Therefore, who you are, my sheep, my heir, will never change. Rest in Me. It’s why I came, Beloved.”

And I cried with relief and the joy I cannot even describe, and I made this list.

It has become my freedom banner.

My identity is not…

a mess up, a worship leader, a good girl, a wife, a daughter, a sister, an author, a nanny, a teacher, a friend, a pretty girl, an ugly girl, an anxious girl, a control freak, a worryer, popular, unpopular, a right girl, a wrong girl, a discerning girl, a faithful girl, a musical girl, a successful girl, a lazy girl, a fired girl, a hired girl, a homecoming queen, an outcast.

My identity is…JESUS.

I. Am. His.

Andrew Strickland Photography (28 of 53)

If you’ve ever felt insecure, (so that’s like, 100% of us, I’m assuming), I encourage you to make a freedom list of what your identity is not…ending with Who your identity is. “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever” (Hebrews 13:8).

Blessings to you and forever security in Him,

Robyn

May I offer some encouragement? (And some cookie butter?)

Can I just say one thing before I say anything else?

Go to your nearest Trader Joe’s and buy some COOKIE BUTTER! (Could ever there be two words so perfectly made for each other that we should have put them together centuries ago?!) The cookie butter mixed with cocoa (YES. You heard me right. MIXED WITH COCOA.) looks like this and I can guarantee you will be dancing a happy jig with spoonfuls in your mouth!!:

Still not sure if it's a condiment or a food but it's AMAZING.

Still not sure if it’s a condiment or a food but it’s AMAZING.

Can you tell I haven’t been working for two days? 

Yeah, just me and the cookie butter.

……..

……..

…….. Just kidding. (Sort of).

So, anyway, this week I got sick.

On Monday, actually.

(And yes…I know today is only Tuesday so this post will be short because I. Will. Rest.)

But remember how I’m a fellow planner with all you fine type-A folks? Well, I had my week laid out quite nicely already.

And then I got sick.

And not the kind of sick where I could battle through and still get things done, apparently.

Because I tried.

I gallantly stubbornly went through Monday morning trying to check things off my list, mail my queries, clean the house, prep for my nanny babies, and of course play with Tuck so he wouldn’t tear up the new carpet with his colossal amounts of jungle-cat energy. (Note to self: check up on whether or not Tuck has the DNA of a wild bobcat or a panther or something).

Needless to say, Monday morning ended with me in bed and all the lights off and I couldn’t even open my eyes for Downton Abbey. Yes, I know!!!! Nuts, right?!! Lady Mary couldn’t even get me to stay awake. That’s when you know it’s serious, folks.

I was spent.

And yet, running a fever and attempting to hear noise above the ringing in my ears, I was still frustrated. I was frustrated because I didn’t want to rest.

And this morning when I woke up with my head full of bowling balls or balloons or something of that nature, I was still frustrated. I still didn’t want to rest.

Because then, this week wouldn’t be productive enough by my own standards.

Like, as if I didn’t perform and check-off all these things on my to-do list, then my week would be for naught.

But maybe the Lord has more for our weeks than checking off to-do lists. 

And He whispered something into my heart and so, by God’s grace (and above the ever-present ringing sound caused by the rather painful state of my eardrums at the moment), I turned my ear to listen.

“Will you rest in Me?”

Wait….But…

But, I can’t, see, I actually have this list of things on my agenda and they’re very important to me and…

But then…..I’m tired.

Physically, tired.

My head is throbbing.

And I have no choice.

So I rest.

And it was then, in the blessed quiet submission that I realized, no matter what I have on my schedule, I am free to always rest in Him.

It’s what we’re promised as His children: to be led beside quiet waters, to be soul-refreshed, to be led down the right paths (psalm 23:1-3) when we give Him our hearts and our trust.

No matter what else is on our agendas, there is one constant that is already filled in for us on each page: Be held.

“The Father loves the Son and has placed everything in His hands” (John 3:35, emphasis mine).

“My sheep [followers of Christ] listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all; no one can snatch them out of my Father’s hand. I and the Father are one” (John 11:27-30).

So my prayer is this: When I am sick, may I rest in Him. When I am well again, may I rest in Him. When I’m working, may I rest in Him. May I be led from worry to the quiet waters of His love.

Perhaps it took a physical slow-down for the Lord to remind me to trust Him. To rest in Him.

Now, I think I’ll go eat a spoonful of cookie butter and watch Lady Mary marry Matthew Crawley for the third time.

Blessings and rest to you,

Robyn

Peace in the Waiting

I suppose when I’d set out to publish my children’s book, I expected it to get picked up over night.

It didn’t.

It’s actually only been 2 months. In robyn-is-waiting-for-something-time, that’s like the equivalent of about 100 million years. In getting-a-book-published-time, that’s like, half a second.

And just because my book hasn’t been picked up in my timing, I subconsciously started questioning, “Well, but, didn’t God lead me here? Isn’t this the desire of my heart? Didn’t I follow Him into a risk and didn’t He promise to provide? Wait…did I hear Him correctly when I decided to make this my career? Was this a bad idea?”

And the questions continued until this weekend when they finally came to a head and exploded in a volcano of ALL THE FEELINGS. (Plus, you know, being in the middle of a move takes emotions like 10 notches higher than normal anyway).

Tears streamed down my face and my sweet husband pulled over and gently asked me what was wrong.

“Um.”

I furrowed my brow and honestly couldn’t name it because there were lots of trivial SUPER important things wrong. You know, like, the armoir that’s been sitting in our new living room, will someone PLEASE take it so I can paint the walls and I haven’t had chocolate cookie quarry ice cream in like two weeks and and Tucker doesn’t like the new spot of his cat tree but my coffee bar has to go SOMEwhere and which moving box are my t-shirts in, again?

But, no. Those weren’t what was really bothering me.

“I just….sniff…I just want….”

I felt myself pout a little. Because I knew what was really bothering me.

(And I thought I was going to be mature about this whole waiting-for-my-book-to-be-picked-up thing).

Alas.

So I let it out.

I just WANT my book published! Like, NOW! I mean, I thought it would have been picked up already!!! I thought since God lead me here that He would do it super fast, and did I do something wrong? Did I make a mistake and that’s why this is taking longer than I thought it would?

Michael’s gentle voice brought me back from the rabbit trail of questions. “I don’t think God works that way.”

Of course, he’s right.

But I wanted to keep pouting. Because, you know, that’s very mature of me.

So I did.

And Michael continued. “You know, do you think this is the best time for your book to be picked up? I mean, we don’t even have our office set up because we’re in the middle of a move. Do you think maybe God knows better than you when it’s the right time?”

Well, the man had a point.

“And don’t you ever have to say ‘not yet’ or ‘no’ to your kids when they want something, because you know what’s best? Even if they don’t understand?”

I nodded.

Oh.

And then I sat back in that passenger seat and thought about my nanny littles.

I say ‘no’ to them lots of times; when my adventurers want to be more adventurous than I think is good or safe, I have to say no. Or if they want dessert before lunch, I have to say “not yet. Just wait a little longer for it.”

And they don’t always understand or agree, but I do what’s best for them.

Because I love them.

So I sat and thought about just how much I care about those littles, and how I say ‘no’ or ‘not yet’ because I love them and want the best for them…and then I thought….

how much more does God, our Father, love us? Love me?

“So in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith” Galatians 3:26.

And since He’s our perfectly loving Father, He has to say ‘no’ or ‘not yet,’ to us, too.

Because He loves us.

And all of a sudden I became His little, wanting what I want right now, wanting that publishing deal, and begging for it with tears.

And I know He doesn’t mind my contending with Him.

I also know He knows what’s best.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future” Jeremiah 29:11.

“As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts” Isaiah 55:9.

You know what’s hard? Worshiping a God whom you’re afraid has forgotten you.

But you know what’s strengthening? Trusting that God is who He says He is. Taking His Word for truth.

And living it.

Even in the waiting.

sunset

He bends down to paint His love for us each day

Blessings to you,

Robyn