Your prayer has been heard. How can I be sure of this?

Zechariah and Elizabeth had prayed for a child. But year after year passed and she remained barren. They remained faithful through it all. Upright in the sight of God. By the time Gabriel, the angel of the Lord appeared, they were both “well along in years.” But Gabriel brought a Word from the Lord. He brought good news. “Your prayer has been heard. Your wife will bear you a son. And he will be great in the sight of the Lord.” What wonderful news! Except it wasn’t wonderful to Zechariah. It doesn’t say how long ago the prayer was prayed. Or for how long the prayer remained the same. It doesn’t say if the prayer had long ago been abandoned. Or if the dream of a child was a yesterday prayer. But it does record Zechariah’s doubt. His disbelief. “How can I be sure of this?”, he asked. He wanted proof. Zechariah was in the temple serving God when Gabriel appeared. Worshipers were praying outside. He was as close to God as he could be. And yet he still doubted. He still wanted proof that what God said He would do, would be done. Oh Lord, that is all of us. Still doubting when it doesn’t happen how we want. Or when we want. Still believing our timetable would make more sense. That our desires should be higher than Yours. Lord, we pray and we want instant answers. Easy answers. Answers that fit in with our agenda. We pray and then give up on prayers. And certainly don’t keep praying for years. We aren’t a people that follows through. We are easily discouraged. Easily given to doubts. We question You, Lord. Even when You send good news. Even when our prayer is answered. But especially if You asked us to wait for that answer. Because we are not a people who likes to wait for anything. Even to wait for You. Forgive us, Lord, for our selfish motives. Forgive our doubting hearts. Forgive our unbelief. May we be steadfast in trusting that Your way is the only way. In Jesus’ Name we pray.

Is God's Word enough for us?

Remember Moses? God wanted him to go to Pharaoh on His behalf. But Moses didn't want to go. He didn't feel like he was the right person for the job. And so, he questioned God.    

But God, who I am that I should go?

But God, what if they don't believe me?

But God, what if they don't listen to me?

But God. 

But God. 

But God.

God was performing miracles right in front of him. He was showing him the impossible was possible.

He was reassuring every doubt. He promised to be with him.

But despite it all, Moses still doubted.  

You would think God appearing in a burning bush would be enough.

You would think Him turning a staff into a snake would be enough.

You would think His every Word would be enough. 

But it wasn't enough for Moses.

God was standing right in front of him. Asking him to believe. Asking him to trust Him. 

"I will be with you," He promised.

And yet Moses still needed more.

It's easy to read that account in the Bible and call him crazy. "How much more did he need?" we ask.

But if we're honest, most of us are just like him. 

We need more too.

God will provide an opportunity and we hesitate.

"Are you sure, God?"

"Isn't there someone better, Lord?" 

When faced with using our faith, we question God as much as Moses did. 

"Why are you asking me to do, what I am not able to do?" 

The question from Moses becomes the question from us. 

And God answers from His place of promise.   

Abraham wasn't able, He reminds us.   

Joseph wasn't able. 

David wasn't able.  

Sarah.

Ruth.

Mary.

None of them were able.

But none of them stopped at what they weren't able to do.  

In the most uncertain moments of their lives, God asked them to believe. 

That though they weren't able, He was.  

And now He asks us the same.

When we're faced with hard moments. When we're overcome with doubt.

When we're scared.

When it's too hard. When it's too much.

When we don't want to do what God is asking us to do.

Will we still do it? 

Will we trust Him anyway?

Will we listen to the promise of God's Word?

And will His Word be enough for us?

 

God took my mom

God took my mom. 

When I was 6 years old and knew nothing about life. 

Before I had a chance to know her. Long before I would have a way to remember her. 

He took her. 

And I grew up never having a mother.

If God can see all, if God knows all, if God is in control...did He not think I would want a mom? 

Or deserved a mom? 

Or needed a mom? 

Did He not care how painful it would be? Did He not care how awful it would feel? 

Did He not care about me at all?

Because I thought when you loved someone you wanted the best for them. You sacrificed for them. You made sure you did everything in your power to help them.

And it didn't feel like God helped me. It felt like He punished me.

And I had no idea why. 

I just knew I hated it. 

And there were moments that I hated Him. 

When you're little, no one comes up to you and tells you it's going to be ok. 

Most don't come up to you at all. 

Because people shrink from talking about death. 

They don't know what to say so they don't say anything. 

And that just makes you feel like you shouldn't talk about it either. 

So you just smile. And say you're good. And keep your hurt inside. 

And hope no one notices how different you are.

If I could only talk to my younger self now. If I could only have a moment to pull her aside and let her know she would be ok. That she would grow up to be strong. And compassionate. And capable.

If I could only let her know, that this pain would become what made her never go to bed mad. That it would make her not be scared to tell people they were important. 

That she would never shy away from telling people she loved them. Or be worried what people thought because she insisted on hugging. And looking for the good.  

If I could only have a moment to tell her that this loss would become what pushed her to make sure people knew, especially young people, that they could overcome hard things too. And that her greatest joy would be to find opportunities to cheer them on. 

If I could just talk to her and tell her to hold her head up. That God had not punished her. 

That God had not let her down.

And that God would walk with her each step of the way without her mom. 

I can't go back to tell her, but I can make sure to never forget.

How my greatest pain became my greatest purpose.  

And I can make sure to pass the message on. 

If you're facing a loss. 

If you're feeling like God has taken someone away from you.

If you're mad. If you're doubtful. 

If you're in the middle of hating God.

I'm here to tell you to hold on to hope. To surround yourself with people who remind you of the good. To believe your loved one is not gone, that they live on in you. That their life may have ended here, but it has not ended entirely. That their heart still beats inside of you. Their goodness still lives on inside of you. That each breath you take is a living testimony to a love that never ends. That they don't have to be here to make a difference. That your life is the difference they make now.

So choose kindness. For them.

Choose gratefulness. For them.

Choose forgiveness. For them.

And most of all, choose to go on living. For them.

Because even on the days it doesn't feel like it. 

Even in the moments you don't care. 

God loves you.  

I know the pain is hard.

I know it. 

But there is a bigger picture we will never see.

And a bigger plan we will never know.

I used to think the truth was that God had punished me.

That He took my mom from me. 

But the truth was my mom was God's child before she was my mom.

He loved her first.

He didn't take her from me. 

She wasn't my belonging.

She was His blessing.  

And though it took me awhile I realized, His blessing never left. 

It still remains.

And I promise one day you will see,

that it remains for you too.  

 

I know you're mad at God

I know you're mad at God.

I know you're doubting anything you ever believed about Him. 

I hear you telling people He can't be real.

Suggesting He's a fairy tale.

Spouting your hatred of Him because you're mad at what you think He's done.

You look at this world and you see the pain.

You see the corrupt.

You see the evil.

And you tell yourself a good God wouldn't allow bad things.

A good God wouldn't let people fall.

A good God wouldn't,

couldn't,

shouldn't,

sit back while His children suffer.

And so you reject anything that remotely suggests that God is on the throne.

Because you want nothing to do with serving a God like that.

But you can't base your faith on what others have done.
Because you'll see their failures,
you'll see their shortcomings,
you'll see their moments of hypocrisy,
and you'll decide that their flaws are the reason why God can't be real.
Not a God you want to believe in anyway.

But just like your body can't survive on what someone else has eaten,
your faith can't survive on how someone else has lived. 

You have to have your own conversation with Him. 
One in which you ask the hard questions.

And you stop to listen for the answers.

That's the hard part. The stopping long enough in your anger to listen. 
The quieting your mind long enough to hear Him speaking to your heart.

But the hard parts in life are often the most necessary. 

The hard parts are often the ones that help us the most. 

You've turned from God because someone else has sinned.
You've lost your faith because someone else has failed.
But their sins don't prove that God doesn't exist. 
And their shortcomings don't prove that God has fallen short.

It just proves we live in a fallen world. 

A world that breaks His heart too. 

I know you're mad at God. I know you think He's let you down.

You've told the world your pain.

It's time to tell Him.

He knows you've walked away. 

And He's waiting for you to come home. 

“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

²¹ “The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’

²² “But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. ²³ Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. ²⁴ For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ Luke 15: 20-24