First off, I am so incredibly encouraged and moved by the response to my last post regarding our family deciding to be missionaries here in the U-District. Being able to hear from so many people who read it and are now praying for us and supporting us still completely blows me away. God is so good, and so faithful and He knows that this is a tough journey and I must cling to Him and His goodness alone.
Because, to be honest, it's hard to conjure up encouragement when deliveries are stolen.
And it's hard to have a desire for lives to be transformed by the Gospel when bedroom windows can't shut fully and it's cold tonight.
And in that moment, the moment right after I lay on our bed and stare at the ceiling and wonder aloud to the walls and my husband and my Savior "this sucks, why again?", God oh so sweetly reminds me that it's not about those fish oil supplements. Or being toasty warm without the comforter on. It's about Him. His glory. His Son dying on the cross for me and my sins that are no less offensive and vile in His sight than theft or negligence or mold.
God reminds me of yesterday as I sit and stew about my frustrations and entitlements.
Yesterday we hosted our first (Lord willing annual) "Thanksgiving Waffle Bar Breakfast" for our neighbors. We made little invitations and went around to the neighbors on our block and invited them last week and bought a 10 pound bag of waffle mix at Costco. I feared that no one would show. That it would have been all for not, and that it was just wishful thinking.
And then there was a knock at the door.
By the end of the morning, a family from church, the neighbors downstairs and two neighbors from across the street had stopped by. One even brought a sweet card and poinsettia from another neighbor who wanted to come but was out of town. These were neighbors we had been living within rock throwing distance of for over a year and had never seen. These were neighbors that now we know the names of and are a part of a desire to build community right where we are, right across the street.
The heavens didn't open up and doves didn't descend but food was shared and smiles were exchanged and I pray that God is beginning something in this neighborhood that will bring Him glory in ways I cannot even imagine.
God brings this all to mind as I cry out to him about why I deserve something more. Ha. I cry out to the God who "has has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins (Colossians 1:13-14)". Oh how quickly does my sinful heart chase after more than my beloved Savior. My eyes are called to be fixed on Him and instead they wander off to whether or not there is dirt and plaster on my bathroom floor and, dude, if I find whoever you are who stole my son's spill mat from our front porch I will totally...
"Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? (Romans 7:24)" Once again, Paul puts to words the crushing weight of realizing my sin and knowing in a few minutes I will most likely travel that path again. I feel like the constant refrain the Lord is pressing upon my weary heart is to hold fast. To be all-in even when it feels like the more I desire to be all-in and actually start living it the more our house falls apart and our finances plummet. To trust Him that even when one more thing goes wrong and I laugh because if I didn't I would burst into tears, that my present circumstance is by no means indicative of His love for me. That I could lose absolutely everything, even my own breath, and He would still, still be good.
So tonight I will sweep my bathroom floor, snuggle under my comforter and pray Colossians 1:11-12 for my easily distracted heart.
May you be strengthened with all power, according to his glorious might, for all endurance and patience with joy, giving thanks to the Father, who has qualified you to share in the inheritance of the saints in light. (Colossians 1:11-12)"
Until next post,
Sola Dei Gloria
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