Because He is Beautiful {Why Do We Come to Christ?}

by Jennifer Smith

I went to a wedding shower today. And it was kind of perfect. The young couple surrounded by family and friends, so genuinely in love, and so happy to celebrate their life together. There were smiles and laughter and really, really good cupcakes. When you left you knew you had been in the presence of love and hopefulness and a Lord, bless em kind of optimism.

My sweet young friends are getting married because they love each and call each other beautiful. I doubt their answers to the question of why are you getting married would even be close to the following:

Eh, my parents did. Guess I will, too.

Good people get married.

It's what I'm supposed to do.

All my friends are doing it.

Heaven help us if this is why we come into marriage. Marriage is hard, y'all. And it's just not going to work if we come into that sacred relationship not recognizing it for the beauty and wonder that it can have.

Isn't it the same with our relationship with Jesus?

I read an article today by John Piper. He was criticizing something called Pascal's Wager. To put it simply this theory says we should follow Christ because what if He's real? This argument says we should come to Christ because what have we lost if He's not real? And what have we gained if He is?

IF.

So I've come to my so-called salvation not out of the goodness of Jesus, but because I don't really have anything better to do.

Eh, my parents are Christians. Guess I will be, too.

Good people are Christians.

It's what I'm supposed to do.

All my friends go to church.

These sentiments make not a good marriage. These same sentiments make not a good rationale for coming to Jesus.

Piper goes on to say the most striking thing that has sat in my heart and mind all day:

"You don't know if Christ is who he says he is. And you are not drawn to trust him by his greatness or beauty or worth."

Why are we drawn to Jesus? And what keeps us coming back to him?

Oh, friend. If we only come to Jesus out of obligation or emotional pressure or what if we are missing the entire point.

Come to Jesus because He is great. Come to Jesus because He is beautiful. Come to Jesus because He is worthy!

A faith that carries us through life sees Jesus for Who He is, not just what He can get me.

A good marriage is based on love, not on what ifs.

And our good relationship with our good Jesus deserves no less. Jesus deserves more than a half-hearted wager. He deserves our full heart of love.

For further reading (especially if you are a teacher of children and teenagers in the church):
The Wrong Strategy in Sunday School (Why Pascal's Wager Fails Children) by John Piper

Fixing Our Eyes on Jesus {Not On Other People}

by Kayla Cook

One thing I have learned in my years of knowing Jesus personally is this: when God shows me the same thing enough times and enough ways that I notice, I should pay attention. I should ask Him, "what are You saying to me, Lord?" And then I should listen to Him. He did this with three different scriptures in the first 20 days of 2019, but the one He is most clearly speaking to me about is Psalm 16.

Let the record show that I have had a really difficult time with comparison lately, specifically related to motherhood. It seems like every where I look, there is another reminder that I'm not doing enough, not being enough, not good enough. It appears all these other moms are rocking it, so basically that means the problem is me and I should just kick rocks and quit trying. Okay, that's a little dramatic, but honestly- it has affected me deeply in ways that have been both surprising and strange. I say it has been strange because I can normally stay in my lane, not worrying about what others are doing. But lately, I cannot get my eyes off of what every other mama is doing.

It's painful to admit that, because when my eyes are on other mothers, that means my eyes are not on Jesus. I'm looking at what everybody else is doing (or at least appearing to do), and honestly, I'm a little miffed at God that their paths seem much lighter and simpler and easier than the path He has me on. For the better part of two weeks, I did what so many of us do when we know something isn't right: I stuffed it.

I stuffed all those feelings down. I grinned and bore it...or at least gritted my teeth and kept my mouth (mostly) shut. I figured if I stuffed it hard enough, that's the same as fighting it, right? And I'm supposed to fight sin. Until one morning, when it aaaallllll came out, and I knew that stuffing my feelings and taking everything to Jesus were most definitely not one and the same.

One morning, I made the mistake of checking social media. (Y'all, don't do that. No, really- if you start your days with social media, stop it. It's a great way to drain your time at best and ruin your morning at worst.) Sure enough, there on social media, I saw another picture perfect mom with her picture perfect reality, while I was rushing off to work with a grumpy baby and a sick husband at home and without the lunch I packed, and I lost it. I prayed, out loud, and most definitely not in my most reverent prayer voice. I said something to the effect of, "God, what You're asking of me, of my family? It's too much. I can't handle all this that You're putting on me. I can't. And You know what? (here comes the real honesty...) I'm angry. I'm angry that You've put this on me while all these other people skip around scot-free, and I'm drowning here. We love You, and we are trying to raise our kid to love You, and this is what You do. Do You see- wait, I know You see- do You even care that I'm drowning here? And I know You're good and You're loving, but none of this feels very good or very loving. It makes me angry. And it breaks my heart."

I collected myself, got the baby to childcare, and got myself to school. Oh, and great! After such an awesome morning, I get to be patient with 70+ middle schoolers. Bitterness was taking root, and I could feel it. I knew I should do something about it, but I couldn't- I didn't have the energy, and sulking felt easier. I put on a mostly happy face, but I knew I was faking it. I was covering up the bitterness and anger, not actually doing anything about it.

At some point that day, I read an article from Risen Motherhood, that focused on my very struggle: comparison in motherhood. The author mentioned that in Psalm 16:6, David says, "The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance." She said that, wherever the boundary lines have fallen for you (the reader) in motherhood, they are in good places because they come from the Lord, even if they look different from the boundary lines of our neighbors.

With that, the Lord started gently uprooting the bitterness, correcting my perspective. I started thinking about how my path was different from other women I know and love. The lines have fallen for us all in very different, yet equally good places, because of the same good God.

Psalm 16:6 popped up again the next day, and I knew I needed to spend some time there. Psalm 16 in the English Standard Version (ESV) is titled "You Will Not Abandon My Soul" (hallelujah!). Read it here:

1 Preserve me, O God, for in you I take refuge.

2 I say to the LORD, "You are my Lord;

I have no good apart from you.

3 As for the saints in the land, they are the excellent ones,

in whom is all my delight.

4 The sorrows of those who run after

another god shall multiply;

their drink offerings of blood I will not pour out

or take their names on my lips.

5 The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup;

you hold my lot.

6 The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;

indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.

7 I bless the LORD who gives me counsel;

in the night also my heart instructs me.

8 I have set the LORD always before me;

because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.

9 Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices;

my flesh also dwells secure.

10 For you will not abandon my soul to Sheol,

or let your holy one see corruption.

11 You make known to me the path of life;

in your presence there is fullness of joy;

at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

The Lord is my refuge. Instead of stuffing and grinning and bearing it, I can take all that feels heavy and all that concerns me to my refuge. My Refuge actually tells me to come weary and burdened, and He will give me rest (Matthew 11:28). The reality is that He Himself is my only good- anything good I have or do or write or say is always and only Him.

Remember when I said that when my eyes are on other mothers, that means my eyes are not on Jesus? This is a problem, y'all. Proverbs 4:25 tells me to fix my gaze directly before me. Hebrews 12:2 tells me to fix my eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith. Why? Why is God so intent on my eyes being straight ahead, on Jesus? Because of Psalm 16:4, "The sorrows of those who run after another god shall multiply..."

Lysa TerKeurst says, "we steer where we stare." Wherever your gaze is, that's where you're headed. When I'm fixing my eyes on other people, I'm giving them the time and attention that I need to be giving God. I can sugar coat it, put a bow on it, downplay it, and even give it another name, but its real name is this: people idolatry. Yikes. When I'm focusing on other people, I'm making them my own little gods. With my gaze fixed, it's not long before I'm running there. And when I run after another god? Well, scripture says my sorrows shall multiply.

So what can we do? I don't want my sorrows to multiply, and I doubt you do either. Psalm 16 lays it out for us in verses 5-11:

I can choose to let the Lord be enough for me- that's when He is my portion, and I can acknowledge His sovereignty over my life and all that happens in it. Because He is my portion, because my good God holds my lot, I know that the lines really do fall in pleasant places for me, and I have a beautiful inheritance. What exactly is that beautiful inheritance? Romans 8:17 tells me that I'm a co-heir with Christ. A co-heir. I get to share in everything that belongs to Jesus because I'm His (that makes me want to shout and throw my hands up while tears stream down my face- it's absolutely amazing). I praise God, who gives wisdom to those who ask for it (James 1:5). I can set Him before me, fixing my eyes on Him, and I won't be shaken- He is holding my hand. My heart is glad and my soul can rejoice because, even when things feel hard and upside down, I'm secure and held and never abandoned. He will show me the right path, even when it feels like a hard path, and in His presence, I can experience joy to the fullest extent.

I'm still walking in many of the same tensions that I was before, but my bitterness is giving way to joy. My circumstances haven't changed much, but my perspective has. When the lines don't feel like they have fallen in pleasant places for me, I choose to believe that there is more to the story than I can see. I'm actively moving my eyes from what I can see to Jesus, Who sees everything. Try as I may, I don't do it perfectly, but when I catch myself looking around, I tell Him and refocus back where my gaze belongs. When my eyes are straight ahead, focused on Him, I can stay in my lane, doing the things He asks of me without comparing it to what other people are doing. What He's doing with other people is none of my business, because it either leaves me puffed up with pride or feeling dejected and insecure. Neither of those are God's plan for me, which is why He tells me to focus on Him. He's my refuge and my only good, and He wants to be yours, too.

Let's Let There Be Light

by Andrea Noles

Every night it’s the same routine.

My 20 month old makes his climb up the stairs, in anticipation of his bath and bedtime story. He typically makes it halfway up, then turns to me slowly and whispers, “ssssh!”

He continues his trek to the top and toddles toward our dark playroom. He steps cautiously closer to the darkness and his “ssssh,” again echoes in my ear.
Suddenly he screams, “light, light, light,” and motions for me to flip the switch.
He knows exactly where it is, but his little fingers just can’t quite reach.

It struck me one particular night that the darkness never stops him, it just makes him pause and turn to me for help.

It’s a fun momma game/ritual that I’ve come to anticipate.
But it wasn’t until recently I started to see something more in all this.

I ran into a verse that struck a light inside my soul and pulled me into a greater story that’s already been told.

1 Thessalonians 5:5 declares something spectacular about my children and about us as believers.

“You are all children of the light and children of the day. We do not belong to the night or the darkness.”

My personal journey (up the stairs) of my life has been one full of light and darkness. I can look back and see all the times my Father has been there, ready and waiting for me to pause, so he can flip the switch and bring me back into his marvelous light.

I often wonder how many times he’s rescued me without my knowing. How many times he’s saved me from something I thought was better than his best?

Light has always been part of his preparation. It was his first answer to creations call for glory and beauty as darkness was over the face of the deep. And from the beginning, light was declared as good!

You see, I am forgetful.
I forget that He knows.
I forget he formed me in my mother’s womb and counts the number of hairs on my head.
I forget God.

Psalm 119 is David’s deep declaration of his love for God.
In verse 16 he promises that he will not forget God’s word.
He goes on to say this...

“Open my eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of your law."
“Give me life according to your word!”
“Give me understanding, lead me in the path of your commandments.”
"Turn my eyes from looking at worthless things; and give me life in your ways.”

What David is really asking for is More light. More Jesus. More Hope.

If you read Psalm 119 in its entirety, you’ll see David’s journey through the light and darkness of life. You’ll see a man after God’s own heart and in the next breath, a lost sheep in need of a shepherd.

Oh David, I totally get it. I see how easy it is to slip away from the path of righteousness. I see how easy darkness can settle in and look like light. I see you David.

What does your “David darkness” look like?
Is fear crippling you?
Are you waiting on test results?
Longing for something that seems so far from reach?

Dear friend, let our Father flip the switch.
His light is a perfect promise, sent in the form of His Son.
His Spirit- our helper, comforter, and friend is an internal, eternal, invisible, made visible gift.

The creation story shines a big spotlight on what happens in our lives spiritually when we let His light in.
We create. We multiply, We gather. We dwell. We walk with God in the garden of our heart.

When the first words of our God declare, “Let there be light,” we should trust that.
We should trust as HE daily declares that His light will lead us. Even when it gets dark.

So let’s trust him- let’s follow the little children toward darkness with a deep assurance that HE and WE can flip the switch and let a little light shine.

Let’s tell our darkness to “ssssh,” and watch what happens when we let there be light.

Iron Sharpens Iron {Why Community Matters}

by Heidi Ashe

The Bible says iron sharpens iron.

As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another. 

Proverbs 27:17 

I’ve seen a blacksmith take a piece of iron and heat it until it turns bright orange, then pound it with a tool to mold it and shape it into something usable, something better, something stronger. 

I’ve taken a kitchen knife and swiped it across a stone to sharpen it. 

Iron sharpens iron. 

As Christians we are called to live in community and community can be hard. In community, your toes get stepped on, your feelings get hurt, and sometimes you get left out.  But in the best instances you learn the importance of all the parts of the community.

Iron sharpens iron. 

Living in community can sometimes feel like that kitchen knife scraping across that sharpener.  Painful and irritating.  I’ve heard it said that the most dangerous thing in your kitchen is a dull knife.  Maybe the most dangerous person in your community has a dull spirit.  The one who has become immune to pain, to insults, even to joy.  The one who’s lost their passion. Has that ever been you?

Can I be brutally honest, raise my hand and admit that it has been me?  In the weariness of raising kids, teaching tweens, keeping a house, and just life, I can begin to lose my spark.  The dark circles that show up under my eyes between August and June become deeper and my shoulders begin to slump. I can be doing all the things that need to be done but more in a list checking, shew that’s over kinda way.  And that’s not really how I want to live.

Early in Galatians, Paul (former killer of Christians) questions Peter (one of the original twelve, yet well known denier, of Christ), claiming he’s changing his behavior depending on who he’s around. 

Galatians 2: 11-14 says:

When Peter came to Antioch, I opposed him to his face (insert adolescent head nod here), because he was clearly in the wrong.  Before certain men came from James, he used to eat with the Gentiles. But when they arrived, he began to draw back and separate himself from the Gentiles because he was afraid of those who belonged to the circumcision group.  The other Jews joined him in his hypocrisy, so that by their hypocrisy even Barnabas was led astray.  When I saw that they were not acting in line with the truth of the gospel, I said to Peter in front of them all, “You are a Jew, yet you live like a Gentile and not like a Jew.  How is it, then, that you force Gentiles to follow Jewish customs?”

Woah.  He just called him out.  Insert wide eyed emoji here.

Now if you know Paul’s conversion story it’s an amazing one, but to me it also explains that he hadn’t been a believer as long at Peter had been.  Peter was one of the original disciples Jesus called.  So not only did a longtime follower get called out, but he got called out by a newbie.

I’ve learned that everyone has a few people in her life that she can call out like that.  If you’re lucky you’ve got a whole community of them that can call you out too. 

Last week as I lay on the table at the doctor’s office waiting for a flu diagnosis (there was no sitting at this point, the minute my fever hit 102, I didn’t care where I was, I was lying down) I text my friend to tell her I was treating myself to a milkshake when I left because my throat felt like I had swallowed glass.  My friend gently text me back, “what if you made a protein shake at home instead?”  See, this friend knows that I have health goals and that I’m learning new ways to handle stress rather than milkshakes.  Thanks to her, the only drive thru I hit up that day was the pharmacy. 

Iron sharpens iron.

We need each other in this life.  Jesus knew it would get messy and hard.  He also knew we would be weak.  He knew we would give in too soon and too often.  So He gave us community.  Community to celebrate with and mourn with.  Community to learn from and challenge.  

“A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” Ecclesiastes 4:12

When things get hard, it can be easy to complain to the Lord.  Complain about the circumstance, complain about the people around us.  Maybe if we saw those people more as sharpening blocks meant to make us better, to make us stronger, maybe then we would be thankful for them.

Who has He placed in your life that makes you better?  Who are you sharpening for Him?

On Disappointment and Wanting God More Than Anything

by Kayla Cook

We had gotten down to the last can of Elecare. Well, what I thought would be the last can.

If you're not familiar with Elecare, it's an amino-acid based (read: very expensive) formula for kiddos with severe food allergies, GI issues, etc. It was a long journey to get us to Elecare, but long story short, we fall in the "multiple severe food allergies" camp.

When I ordered (what I thought was) the last case of Elecare, I did the math and figured out we had enough to last until our daughter, Selah, was almost 13 months old. That's more than plenty, right? By then, we would have had her 12 month well check, gotten the green light to transition off of formula, and Elecare would be quickly fading memory.

But that's not how it happened. Selah's weight gain at her well check was perfect, and her list of safe foods was up to 13 (she's up to 14 now). Encouraging, sure, but put simply, her diet just isn't well-rounded enough to not need Elecare anymore. So she'll be on it until...well, until. Until her diet is diverse enough to give her all the nutrients she needs without formula. We have no idea when that will be.

When I saw that last can of Elecare sitting on the shelf in the pantry, I felt a twinge of sadness. This was supposed to be the last one. And yet, there I was, ordering more. I had hopes of where our progress would be, and reality wasn't matching up. I turned the light off in the pantry and closed the door.

Just two days later, Selah had an allergic reaction to eggs. She had hives on her sweet little face and one of her eyes was swollen. We followed her plan of care and put calls into her pediatrician and allergist. Within about 90 minutes, the hives were fading fast and she was back to almost-normal. It was scary, but thankfully, it was brief.

After she went to bed, I told my husband, "I'm really sad about her reaction to eggs." He reminded me that things could be so much worse, and yes, it stinks, but we have much to be thankful for. He's right, I know.

I know he's right. I still bent over our kitchen counter, put my head in my hands, and cried.

He asked me why I was crying, and I just shook my head, because I couldn't articulate it yet. But here it is, the gut honest truth: I was crying because I was disappointed in God.

Faith is being sure of what we hope for, and certain of what we do not see (Hebrews 11:1). I had faith- I was certain in my hope- that, by God’s grace, we had found all of Selah's allergens. I was convinced that these food trials were just a formality, that the worst was behind us. I prayed and trusted that we would only being dealing with FPIES (a rare, severe food allergy, where reactions are GI related and can lead to shock). And yet, here we were. Now we had a new allergen to add to our list, and now we were managing both kinds of reactions, both of which can be life-threatening.

I trusted Him, and this new reaction felt like He let me down.

Listen, I believe that there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that touches me or my child (or you) without first being allowed by our good and sovereign God. And I think that's why I felt so disappointed- because I trusted Him, because I believe in His sovereignty, because I was holding so tightly to my belief that the God Who stepped down from Heaven to give us abundant life certainly wouldn't allow an even more limited diet.

Who am I to say what God will and will not allow?

I've prayed a lot about this. I told God how I was feeling- disappointed, disillusioned, overwhelmed, and just plain sad. I was scared for what this means for Selah long-term. I was completely overwhelmed by learning to manage a new allergen and a new type of reaction. Would she ever be able to eat something I didn't personally make, or anything seasoned with more than organic cane sugar or sea salt? It wasn't looking good.

There is a song by Natalie Grant called "More Than Anything". The chorus goes like this:
"Help me want the Healer more than the healing.
Help me want the Savior more than the saving.
Help me want the Giver more than the giving.
Help me want You, Jesus, more than anything."

I've prayed similar prayers to this chorus over my years of walking with Jesus. I learned to want Jesus more than anything when I was asking Him for a husband, a job, a house, even a baby. But to want Him more than my baby's healing? It seemed He was asking so much of me.

I prayed about this, out loud in the car, "Jesus, am I supposed to really want You more than I want You to heal my child? Is this right? Am I completely insane? Surely, I've missed something. I know I'm supposed to want You most, but I don't know how. How?"

And in my spirit, I got a one word reply: "Yes."

So I said, "Okay. This feels backwards, but here goes: help me want You more than I want You to heal her."

I got the same word again: "Yes."

I have wrestled with this, why and how God asks me to want Him more than literally anything, to love Him with heart and soul and mind and strength. And I don't claim to have all the answers, but this is what I've got:

He is better than anything. No matter what is it that I want or need, Jesus is better and Jesus is more.

It's hard when what you hoped for isn't what's in front of you. I have no idea what it is that you want or you need right now, dear one, but I believe this: He's better than the very best thing you can think of. Your mind can't contain His goodness. You can't see or hear or even think up what He has in store for those who love Him. Those aren't words I came up with to make you feel better- that's from the very Word of God, and it never returns void.

What's the very best thing I can think of? That He would heal my child.

And yet, He's better than even that. I don't pretend to understand how or why, but I trust that He is.

Over my years of walking with Him, I have known God as Savior, Friend, Faithful, Giver, Redeemer, Way Maker, and the God Who sees me, just to name a few. I want to know Him as Healer, but I can't know Him as Healer unless I need healing. I choose to believe, even on the days I can't see it, that I will know Him as Healer, and until that time, I am learning Him as all sufficient. If I, as a mama just doing her best, know how to do good and give good things to my child, how much more does my good, good Father know how to do good and give good things to us? He does more than just give us good things- He gives us His very own self.

Keep leaning in when everything in you in screaming to go the other way. That's what I'm having to do, too. However it is you're wanting and needing to know Him- Healer, Savior, Giver, Redeemer- you have to need Him in that way first. And so, while I'm waiting to know Him as Healer, I'll lean into Him and find Him faithful again and again.

Lisa Frank and Serving

by Jamie Gunter

I had a slight obsession with Lisa Frank as a child. Ok, ok… it was not slight in the slightest. It was an all-out crazed obsession with the bright, cheerful colors and fantastic creatures. I coveted all things Lisa Frank- the pencil cases, notebooks, pens… And then I received the GOAT Lisa Frank gift- a pens/paper/card gift set. A WHOLE SET of beautifully bound, SCENTED paper and pens with cards that you could give to (what must be) the most special people in the entire world.

Now some kids would rip into that new gift with a fury and everything would be written on in around twenty minutes. That was not me. I was wise enough to know this opportunity did not come ever… I couldn’t waste these precious scented papers on just anyone. So, I put them in my most upfront, special center drawer in my desk… for the right time.

When I cleaned out my drawers before going to college guess what I found… my beloved Lisa Frank gift set. The papers didn’t smell anymore and the pens were dry. I wanted to cry. I never did give them to the most important people in the world. I didn’t give them to anyone. I put them in a dark, safe place where they were not appreciated. Actually, everytime I would see them in that drawer as a child I remember feeling anxiety over knowing exactly what to do with them.
A waste really.

As I was driving to work this week, I was thinking about some things that I clasp tightly in my hands and am so scared to let go of. Money, time, energy… I realized I hold these things as much too sacred. And I realized that God has asked me to let them go. To give these things to the most important people- His people. If I hold them close and keep them for myself, it’s such a waste.

So many times we are reminded in the bible to serve, to give, to sacrifice for others. In Luke, Jesus tells us “For who is greater, one who reclines at table or one who serves...but I am among you as the one who serves.”

I was embarrassed in that moment in my car at the amount of times I have failed God in my service. I have failed to show compassion and love for His children. I have let my own selfishness, greed, and pride direct my giving. I hold onto the things I value like I held onto my Lisa Frank gift set.

It became real to me when Paul says in Philippians “not that I seek the gift, but I seek the fruit that increases to your credit.” To give not to receive but to be thinking selflessly about what the receiver is blessed with.

I had my feelings hurt this week. I wallowed in self-pity and honestly gave it way too much space and time in my mind and heart. That image of Lisa Frank pens popped up again- God was showing me something- I was holding onto my own selfish issues when I needed to give it over to Him and get on with my service to His glory.

I will never be perfect in my love for others. I am not meant to be. Jesus is the only one who can hold that title. But, I can sure improve. I can use my most beautiful paper to write to someone who needs encouragement, and I can give all I can when I see hurt. I can seek opportunities to serve and to love. I can look past my own hurts and issues and actually see other people.

The God of My Big Deals {The God of My Small Stuff}

by Jennifer Smith

So, I'm pretty good at trusting God in Big Deal situations.

Emergency c-section? No worries, God is taking care of us.

My house burning down to the ground? Y'all, I literally praised God as I walked through the rubble and ashes.

Emotional trauma? No biggie, God will bring beauty from the ashes.

Yes, my faith in the Big is mighty. I believe that in tragedy and pain and sorrow that God holds me up with His righteous right hand like it says in Isaiah 41:10. I believe in Psalm 91 where God tells me He will cover me with His feathers. During these times of darkness I hold fast to Him, I long for Him. I find my joy and strength and peace only in Him.

But, thankfully, life isn't all Big Deal situations. Most of life is made up of the Small Stuff, and this friends, is where I fail.

See, I remember the God who parted the Red Sea, but I forget the God who watches the sparrow fall. I believe for the Big, but I forget in the Small.

I've found that when I'm facing Big Deals, I'm so close to the Lord. But then, thankfully, things get better. But this also means I do not cling to Him as tightly.

I need to start trusting God with my day to day, Small Stuff. I need to remember that He cares about my morning drive, my deadlines, my fleeting thoughts, my simple choices. God cares about it all and He wants to be included in it all. 

The Bible tells us that we should pray in all situations and for all things (I Thessalonians 5:17, Ephesians 6:18), so doesn't this mean God cares about all situations and all things? He hears our prayers for help in small moments just as much as He hears our prayers for miracles. 

Psalm 139 speaks of God's intimate knowledge of us:

"...even from a distance, you know what I’m thinking.

You know when I leave and when I get back;

    I’m never out of your sight.

You know everything I’m going to say

    before I start the first sentence.

I look behind me and you’re there,

    then up ahead and you’re there, too—

    your reassuring presence, coming and going.

This is too much, too wonderful—

    I can’t take it all in!"

I'm so thankful for a God who can handle the Big Deals. I'm so thankful that in hurricane-like situations I'm confident in a God who will keep me from drowning. But I also need to remember that He's the God of the Small Stuff, too. I shouldn't just be a bad-weather friend to God, only drawing close during turbulent times. I should draw close in all times. God loves me so much that He wants to be included in the smallest, most inconsequential times of my day. 

So, that's my resolution. In 2016 I will thank God for parting the seas and seeing me through the storms, but I will also thank Him in my smallest moments and include Him in my conversations, my coffee breaks, and my simple tasks.

Because Big Deal or Small Stuff, He's the God of it all.

*Originally posted in January 2016