It’s such a subtle, leading line of questioning.
While a friend of mine and I were talking about our respective journeys this weekend, noting the similarities and differences, I found myself increasingly aware of this questioning happening (again) within me…
In the midst of a worldwide pandemic where things have shifted so rapidly, unexpectedly, even the smallest shifts seem to bring my heart to a heightened attention…
And I find myself sitting with this two-word question and examining things from a place of… situational following.
(Oh gosh, what does that even mean? Well… Let me try to unpack that…)
I… think… I am basing my footing on an… insecure positioning…
Another shift got cancelled for work because of this virus — oh no!
I can’t register for that class I felt deeply led to — oh no!
I can’t meet with groups of friends like I used to — oh no!
My vision of what this new season would be like is shifting rapidly — oh no!
How long is this going to last? Oh…we don’t know — oh no!
Then somewhere along the way, I’ve shifted my attention on to the “things” (whatever they may be), following them down every rabbit trail of thought to address the possible consequences for very real concerns surrounding me.
It’s crazy how quickly “what’s next?” can lure me away from focusing on Jesus, from simply staying close and following.
But in His mercy and kindness toward my weakness, He gently beckons…
“Peace. Be still.”
Could I really be still? Rest in this uncertain place?
“You’re not on your own to figure this out.”
Could I believe that this God, Who says He’s Master in everything, was really leading me? Through such a difficult, uncertain passage? And in such unfamiliar ways?
“I am here— Let go.”
Could I trust that despite all the fuzzy outcomes around me, it’s actually safe to let go?
And as the wind and waves of my circumstances continue, I turn my eyes back onto Jesus with heart-whispered, “Help!”
Somehow, I am slowly remembering:
The same Author of my story, Who has gotten me through past seasons of uncertainty, was still here… telling me now…
“I love you, and I am still in control.”
It seems so… radical. But this is the position of trust, of faith in Jesus and His Voice. I knew enough to know that His Voice is my north star of direction, of navigating the present-day whirlwind… of the unexpected… of far-reaching change… of loss… of even, strangely, opportunity. 🌊
“Rest. I am here.”
So yesterday, in a defiant act of faith, I chose (again) to let go. Sleep in. Roll this back onto Jesus. Stay present. Remember that He’s responsible, and I’m His beloved one.
“I’ve not forgotten you.”
I chose to see what He’s placing in front of me. Engage right here. Stop trying to figure it out or make something “happen” or hide from all that concerns me about tomorrow.
“Trust My plans for you.”
Because a child is not concerned about the “next thing” as much as the present thing, is she? And isn’t a childlike posture in response to Jesus at the heart of the Kingdom?
Yes, as He’s been faithful before…
He’ll be faithful again.
And so today, I pray:
Father, help me trust that where You have placed me in this “stay home” time is exactly where I need to be.
Help me see that what’s in my vicinity is precisely what You are wanting for me.
Help me rest — Lord, I am weary, so used to being wearied by the journey that I don’t often see my deep need for full rest.
Help me let go… of being in “control”… of being solely responsible for what happens to me… of concerning myself with things beyond today, things really beyond me.
I don’t want to wrest the wheel from Your more than capable, loving Hand…
You’re still at the helm.
Help me rest in the “boat” of these uncertain circumstances…
trusting that You’ll tell me what to do when it’s time.
Help me let go…
and fall asleep. ♥️