You can put God in a box (but he won't stay there)
Sometimes (a lot of times?), I worry.
I tell God how things don't add up. I tell him how I can't see past the nose on my face, and how I don't know how life is going to work out.
And he listens to me.
We have a long history, me and God. He was there in the beginning carefully knitting the delicate parts of me before I was born. He joyfully watched my first breath, and all the ones that followed after. Before I could even hear his voice, he was singing his love song over me. I'm only just beginning to understand the depths of his adoration.
But I am finite, and he is infinite. I'm a slow learner, and he is a patient God. There is so much I don't understand, yet he FULLY understands me. He touches my flaws with a gentle hand and says, ''Let me help you with that." When I tire of the struggle, when I see that all of my effort is getting me nowhere, I take that hand. I'm learning to do that sooner.
We decide to take a trip to Nicaragua. Tim left his heart there two years ago, while we supported him from home. He's been wanting our hearts to join his ever since.
I look at the numbers we need and sigh. I fall beneath the weight of its vastness. I hold the impossibility at a distance. It's too great a measure to hold intimately.
I stress.
Tim and I pray that God will supply our need, but I have a secret back up plan to send him with the kids if we fall short. When my faith is perfected, I won't need a back up plan.
We start a fundraiser, and as we begin to receive donations I realize how these gifts are tokens of grace. I find myself wandering back and forth from gratitude to humility. My heart is changing, and I haven't even left the U.S. I have nothing to give in return, I have only the ability to offer the blessing of grateful acceptance.
God exceeded our asking. He used people that we don't even know, people that we didn't expect. He showed me once again that I can't put him in a box. He's too big for that.
See for yourself! http://www.gofundme.com/8tzppw
I tell God how things don't add up. I tell him how I can't see past the nose on my face, and how I don't know how life is going to work out.
And he listens to me.
We have a long history, me and God. He was there in the beginning carefully knitting the delicate parts of me before I was born. He joyfully watched my first breath, and all the ones that followed after. Before I could even hear his voice, he was singing his love song over me. I'm only just beginning to understand the depths of his adoration.
But I am finite, and he is infinite. I'm a slow learner, and he is a patient God. There is so much I don't understand, yet he FULLY understands me. He touches my flaws with a gentle hand and says, ''Let me help you with that." When I tire of the struggle, when I see that all of my effort is getting me nowhere, I take that hand. I'm learning to do that sooner.
We decide to take a trip to Nicaragua. Tim left his heart there two years ago, while we supported him from home. He's been wanting our hearts to join his ever since.
I look at the numbers we need and sigh. I fall beneath the weight of its vastness. I hold the impossibility at a distance. It's too great a measure to hold intimately.
I stress.
Tim and I pray that God will supply our need, but I have a secret back up plan to send him with the kids if we fall short. When my faith is perfected, I won't need a back up plan.
We start a fundraiser, and as we begin to receive donations I realize how these gifts are tokens of grace. I find myself wandering back and forth from gratitude to humility. My heart is changing, and I haven't even left the U.S. I have nothing to give in return, I have only the ability to offer the blessing of grateful acceptance.
God exceeded our asking. He used people that we don't even know, people that we didn't expect. He showed me once again that I can't put him in a box. He's too big for that.
See for yourself! http://www.gofundme.com/8tzppw
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