Before starting this post, I have to confess something. My love for some of the Old Testament books is not what it should be. I’ve always struggled to read through Leviticus and Numbers, and to be honest, I don’t know that I’ve ever quite made it through. So needless to say, I wasn’t too excited today when my daily Bible study directed me to Numbers 22. But God never ceases to amaze me with the way that he constantly presents me with exactly what I need to read or hear in each moment. It sometimes comes in the most unlikely places…Numbers 22…through the most unlikely circumstances….a talking donkey.
I know I’ve heard about the story of Balaam and his talking donkey before, but I don’t know that I’ve actually read it for myself. Today I did, and I couldn’t believe how much I related the donkey. Yes, I just compared myself to a donkey…stick with me. Balaam was on his way to see King Balak, who had requested that he curse the Israelites who were threatening his land. On the way, something strange happens. His donkey, who he had ridden all of his life, does three very weird things during the journey. He runs off of the path into a field, tries to squeeze through a narrow passage resulting in injury to Balaam’s foot, and finally just lays down in the road. Each action on the donkey’s part results in a beating from Balaam. Now what Balaam doesn’t know and what he can’t see, is the angel of the Lord, with sword drawn, blocking their way. He doesn’t know the reason for the donkey’s strange behavior.
I realize that most sermons, devotional thoughts, or parallels drawn from this story are usually focused on Balaam and his response in this story, but I’d like to instead focus on the donkey. I couldn’t help reading this story without realizing how much I am like this donkey. So often in this journey of life, God reveals different things to me. He opens a door of opportunity or sometimes shuts a door of possibility. He convicts me of sin in my life or makes it clear to me what obeying him really looks like. He reveals himself to me in many different ways. Often times, my first reaction is simply to bolt and run in the complete opposite direction. I either lack the faith to trust him, or I don’t want to truly follow him and choose to die to myself. Thankfully, we serve a God of pursuit, a God who loves us so much that he will do whatever it takes to get our attention at times. He might try a second time and finally get my attention enough to the point where I’m walking towards him, but I usually try to squeeze by without really truly obeying him. I try to take the shortcut, which usually only results in more pain on my part. Sometimes it takes him completely blocking my path, but even then I tend to try to find another way.
There are several things I love about this story. First of all, I think it’s interesting that every time the donkey tried to miss the angel of the Lord, he goes through tremendous pain. I think it’s the same with us. When we ignore God, turn to other things, and ultimately choose a different path, it is always painful. God is the only thing worth it in this life, and it hurts when we realize that we’ve been choosing things other than him and trying to walk the journey alone. I also love the donkey’s response to seeing the angel the third time. He lays at his feet. He submits. He gives in. This is one part of the story where I am all too often NOT like the donkey. In this scenario, I picture myself getting a running start and taking the angel out. You know that part in the Lion King where Pumba goes bowling into the big group of birds. That’s me in this situation. I all too often just bulldoze through the truth standing in my way instead of humbly submitting to what I know is best.
The coolest part of this story is, of course, when the donkey talks. I think it’s crazy. (However, it’s even crazier to me that Balaam just answers the donkey. I mean, come on, your donkey just talked to you. At least scream or something…) The words that the donkey speaks are so familiar to me. They are what I hear God gently whispering each time that I doubt him. God says to me, “But I am the same God that you have followed all your life. Have I ever let you down before?”
I so desperately desire to trust God in all aspects of my life, but he desires my faith even more. He is urging and begging me to trust him because he’s never let me down and he never will. I tend to run from his truths and try to figure things out on my own, which always results in pain, rather than relinquish control to the only one who truly knows what is best. I pray for the donkey’s response to the third time of seeing the angel. I want to lay myself down at the feet of my Lord. I want to give up control and submit myself to him. I want to be like the donkey.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
A Hard Reality (Disclaimer: This is long)
It's been a great week so far. It's our week off of school so I've had the last two days to just relax and rest. I feel like life has been so busy and on-the-go since I've been here, so it has been a nice change of pace to not have places to go and things to do. My favorite part of this week, however, was Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. It was the best part of this week, but at the same time it was the worst part of the week. The greatest experience that I've had since being here was also the hardest. It's been a hard thing to wrap my mind around, and I think that I'm still processing it a little bit.
The mission team here has set up something known as "bonding." It involves being dropped off in a village to live with a family for a few days. An African village basically looks like the picture that we all get when we first think of Africa. Mud huts. No electricity. No running water. No toilets. Extremely primitive. All of the interns that come to work with the Mbarara team go through this, and for the past few months, I've heard about what a great experience it is. So of course, Desarae and I jumped at the opportunity when we heard that we had a week off of school.
Our journey began on Sunday morning by going to a village for church with the Fouts. We went to the church in the village of Kasana, but the congregations from Kishenyi and Barere were also meeting there because it was a goodbye to the Fouts. Church lasted from 11:00 to 4:30. There were 8 different speakers and 8 different sermons, all of which were in runyonkore. It was a long day of sitting on hard wooden benches, being extremely hungry, and not understanding a word of what was said. There was one speaker who would throw in random sentences in English, and that helped to keep me engaged for awhile. At one point he got very serious and said, "Now, I need to speak this from my bottom." It's amazing how much that saying can be changed with you leave off three important words at the end of it. Renee, Des, and I got a serious case of the church giggles at this point. You know, when you're not supposed to be laughing so it makes it even harder to control. Yeah, it was bad.
As I was sitting there feeling hungry, tired, sore, and frustrated that I couldn't understand anything, I was also completely amazed at these people. Many of them had walked an hour or so just to get to church. They hadn't eaten since the morning, if they were lucky enough to get a meal then. They worshipped with such joy and energy, and they never seemed to tire. Renee made the point that we as Americans are so ruled by our stomachs and by our watches. When we get tired or hungry, we tend to tune out the preacher, close our Bible, and reread that church bulletin one more time. These people could worship God for hours. They could study his word for hours, and they do. It was an incredible thing to witness, and one that I hope I won't soon forget.
I feel like this post has the potential to get pretty lengthy so I'm going to try to quickly summarize the next few days. After eating lunch (at 4:30) of matooke and goat soup, we set off on foot with Bernard (He actually pronounces his name Bennett, but his name is actually spelled Bernard. So just read it as Bennett ok? :) Bernard has worked for the Fouts for 10 years, and he has very proudly hosted many visitors in that time period. We were thrilled to get the opportunity to bond with him. He is 57 years old, and so full of life. He is a great guy and we always enjoy getting to see him at the Fouts. He's very good about making us greet him in runyonkore so we were looking forward to the ways he was going to challenge us in the next few days.
We wanted to experience everything with Bernard, so we walked home from church just as he had walked to church that morning. He took us the long way so that we could see the Barere church building. We walked for 2 hours straight that night, finally arriving at his house at 7:30, right as it was getting dark. It was one of the most beautiful walks of my life though, and I really enjoyed it. I was so excited about what we were about to experience that I could have walked a lot longer, I think. Still, I was very excited to finally reach his home and get to meet his family. His wife's name is Midias, and they have 5 children who still live at home. Sylvia is 13, Christine is 7, Dan is probably around 4, Franco is 2ish, and Nicholas is probably around a year old. We were immediately welcomed and made to feel very at home. I can't tell you how many times Bernard told us not to be shy, to be comfortable, and to feel at home. He was a great host.
We enjoyed our second straight meal of matooke and goat soup and then got to bed pretty early that night. There's not a whole lot to do once it gets dark in the village since there is no electricity, so the night's usually ended at around 9. We slept great that night and woke up early the next morning ready to experience a great day. We walked 1/4 mile to get water twice that day, which involved pushing 3 jericans of water in the oldest, most rickety wheelbarrow you've ever seen. I helped wash dishes and saw the Ugandan dishwashing process, which seems to be mostly counterproductive. Des and I chopped onions and sliced tomatoes and helped make the goat soup for dinner. (I've never breathed in so much smoke at one time.) We played with the kids and spent some quiet time with God. We enjoyed using the African version of a toilet. It's called a cho and it's basically just a hole in the ground. We had chai several times, and of course there was more matooke and goat soup...4 meals in a row to be exact.
The hardest part of the trip, the worst part for me, came Monday afternoon. We set off at 11:30 to go visit some people around the village. We walked around, aimlessly it seemed to us, for 2 1/2 hours. I sprained my ankle about a week ago, and it was killing me after walking around so much the day before. It was clear from the beginning that we didn't have a destination. We were just wandering around, stopping at every house we came to. (It kind of reminded me of some dear friends of mine who always struggled in leaving the student center at Harding. Bernard couldn't seem to pass one person without stopping, and he seemed to have a hard time pulling himself away from any conversation. You know who you are, and I love you.) We would all greet each family or person that we ran into, and then Bernard would proceed to have a 10 minute conversation in a language that we understand very little of.
It was during this time that all of this experience started to hit me. The things that I was experiencing weren't hard for me to do. Sure, I didn't really like eating matooke and goat soup at 9:00 in the morning for breakfast, but I could do that. I wasn't a huge fan of having to use a bedpan in the middle of the night instead of a toilet, but I did. I didn't love the lack of things to do in the village, the lack of entertainment that we Americans can't seem to live without, but I was making do. I didn't enjoy walking for miles and miles everyday, but it wasn't impossible. The experience in and of itself wasn't hard, but it became hard when it hit me that this is a reality for these people. I was coming in for a quick trip, 2 days to live their lives. This is their life every single day. They wake up every day, walk to get water so that they can live, and then spend each day doing pretty much the same things. Cooking for the day, cleaning the dishes from the day, wandering around the village greeting neighbors. Walking everywhere. They live their lives with no where to go and nothing really exciting to do. They live their lives without the comforts that we could never imagine going a day without. It just hit me that this is all very much a reality. They've probably never even heard of the internet, but I can't seem to go a day without it. Taking pictures with my digital camera and seeing their face on the screen was so thrilling to them. Having two mzungu girls in their house for a couple of days was one of the most exciting things they've experienced in a long time. It was a hard reality to grasp for me, and it's something I'm still trying to wrap my mind around as I'm sitting here in my comfortable apartment, with my internet running, and my toilet just a room away.
This experience was great, but this experience was also extremely hard. I'm so thankful for Bernard welcoming us into his home to share in his life for a few days, and I would do it again in a second. I saw God a lot in those two days. I saw him in the simplicity of their lives in the village. I saw him in the way that Bernard continually served us, giving us the best food (meat is only served on very special occasions), and giving us a chair while he sat on the floor. I saw God in the way that Midias served her family by cooking food all day long over an open fire in an extremely small, smoky room. I saw the face of God in the faces of these children. I saw the face of God in the people that I met in the village that day. I saw his face in the face of an old, Ugandan woman who could barely walk, yet knelt at my feet to greet me. I saw God's face in the joy in these people's life that certainly does not come from circumstances, but a joy that can only be found in him. It was an incredible experience that I wish everyone could enjoy.
We got back to our apartment at 8:00 Tuesday morning. I was exhausted, dirty, and so ready for the comforts that I had been missing. I wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower and check my email. Well, God had different plans for that day. We got home to find out that our power was off, and it stayed off until 9:00 that night. So instead of spending my day catching up with friends back home, and relishing in the comforts of my life, God continued my bonding experience. What an incredible blessing that was. Instead of filling my day with endless hours on the computer, I filled my day with endless hours with God. I spent a lot of time with him in prayer and in his word. I was able to process my experience a lot and allow him to teach me even after I thought the experience had ended. I'm so thankful for the times that our plans don't turn out the way we want, and God gently reminds us that his plans are always better.
I'm sorry this is so long. It just seems impossible to sum up such a full experience in just a few short paragraphs. I'm going to end with some pictures of my time in the village. There's a bunch more on my website, so make sure to click on one of the pictures below to see the others. I love you guys. Thanks for walking this journey with me.
The mission team here has set up something known as "bonding." It involves being dropped off in a village to live with a family for a few days. An African village basically looks like the picture that we all get when we first think of Africa. Mud huts. No electricity. No running water. No toilets. Extremely primitive. All of the interns that come to work with the Mbarara team go through this, and for the past few months, I've heard about what a great experience it is. So of course, Desarae and I jumped at the opportunity when we heard that we had a week off of school.
Our journey began on Sunday morning by going to a village for church with the Fouts. We went to the church in the village of Kasana, but the congregations from Kishenyi and Barere were also meeting there because it was a goodbye to the Fouts. Church lasted from 11:00 to 4:30. There were 8 different speakers and 8 different sermons, all of which were in runyonkore. It was a long day of sitting on hard wooden benches, being extremely hungry, and not understanding a word of what was said. There was one speaker who would throw in random sentences in English, and that helped to keep me engaged for awhile. At one point he got very serious and said, "Now, I need to speak this from my bottom." It's amazing how much that saying can be changed with you leave off three important words at the end of it. Renee, Des, and I got a serious case of the church giggles at this point. You know, when you're not supposed to be laughing so it makes it even harder to control. Yeah, it was bad.
As I was sitting there feeling hungry, tired, sore, and frustrated that I couldn't understand anything, I was also completely amazed at these people. Many of them had walked an hour or so just to get to church. They hadn't eaten since the morning, if they were lucky enough to get a meal then. They worshipped with such joy and energy, and they never seemed to tire. Renee made the point that we as Americans are so ruled by our stomachs and by our watches. When we get tired or hungry, we tend to tune out the preacher, close our Bible, and reread that church bulletin one more time. These people could worship God for hours. They could study his word for hours, and they do. It was an incredible thing to witness, and one that I hope I won't soon forget.
I feel like this post has the potential to get pretty lengthy so I'm going to try to quickly summarize the next few days. After eating lunch (at 4:30) of matooke and goat soup, we set off on foot with Bernard (He actually pronounces his name Bennett, but his name is actually spelled Bernard. So just read it as Bennett ok? :) Bernard has worked for the Fouts for 10 years, and he has very proudly hosted many visitors in that time period. We were thrilled to get the opportunity to bond with him. He is 57 years old, and so full of life. He is a great guy and we always enjoy getting to see him at the Fouts. He's very good about making us greet him in runyonkore so we were looking forward to the ways he was going to challenge us in the next few days.
We wanted to experience everything with Bernard, so we walked home from church just as he had walked to church that morning. He took us the long way so that we could see the Barere church building. We walked for 2 hours straight that night, finally arriving at his house at 7:30, right as it was getting dark. It was one of the most beautiful walks of my life though, and I really enjoyed it. I was so excited about what we were about to experience that I could have walked a lot longer, I think. Still, I was very excited to finally reach his home and get to meet his family. His wife's name is Midias, and they have 5 children who still live at home. Sylvia is 13, Christine is 7, Dan is probably around 4, Franco is 2ish, and Nicholas is probably around a year old. We were immediately welcomed and made to feel very at home. I can't tell you how many times Bernard told us not to be shy, to be comfortable, and to feel at home. He was a great host.
We enjoyed our second straight meal of matooke and goat soup and then got to bed pretty early that night. There's not a whole lot to do once it gets dark in the village since there is no electricity, so the night's usually ended at around 9. We slept great that night and woke up early the next morning ready to experience a great day. We walked 1/4 mile to get water twice that day, which involved pushing 3 jericans of water in the oldest, most rickety wheelbarrow you've ever seen. I helped wash dishes and saw the Ugandan dishwashing process, which seems to be mostly counterproductive. Des and I chopped onions and sliced tomatoes and helped make the goat soup for dinner. (I've never breathed in so much smoke at one time.) We played with the kids and spent some quiet time with God. We enjoyed using the African version of a toilet. It's called a cho and it's basically just a hole in the ground. We had chai several times, and of course there was more matooke and goat soup...4 meals in a row to be exact.
The hardest part of the trip, the worst part for me, came Monday afternoon. We set off at 11:30 to go visit some people around the village. We walked around, aimlessly it seemed to us, for 2 1/2 hours. I sprained my ankle about a week ago, and it was killing me after walking around so much the day before. It was clear from the beginning that we didn't have a destination. We were just wandering around, stopping at every house we came to. (It kind of reminded me of some dear friends of mine who always struggled in leaving the student center at Harding. Bernard couldn't seem to pass one person without stopping, and he seemed to have a hard time pulling himself away from any conversation. You know who you are, and I love you.) We would all greet each family or person that we ran into, and then Bernard would proceed to have a 10 minute conversation in a language that we understand very little of.
It was during this time that all of this experience started to hit me. The things that I was experiencing weren't hard for me to do. Sure, I didn't really like eating matooke and goat soup at 9:00 in the morning for breakfast, but I could do that. I wasn't a huge fan of having to use a bedpan in the middle of the night instead of a toilet, but I did. I didn't love the lack of things to do in the village, the lack of entertainment that we Americans can't seem to live without, but I was making do. I didn't enjoy walking for miles and miles everyday, but it wasn't impossible. The experience in and of itself wasn't hard, but it became hard when it hit me that this is a reality for these people. I was coming in for a quick trip, 2 days to live their lives. This is their life every single day. They wake up every day, walk to get water so that they can live, and then spend each day doing pretty much the same things. Cooking for the day, cleaning the dishes from the day, wandering around the village greeting neighbors. Walking everywhere. They live their lives with no where to go and nothing really exciting to do. They live their lives without the comforts that we could never imagine going a day without. It just hit me that this is all very much a reality. They've probably never even heard of the internet, but I can't seem to go a day without it. Taking pictures with my digital camera and seeing their face on the screen was so thrilling to them. Having two mzungu girls in their house for a couple of days was one of the most exciting things they've experienced in a long time. It was a hard reality to grasp for me, and it's something I'm still trying to wrap my mind around as I'm sitting here in my comfortable apartment, with my internet running, and my toilet just a room away.
This experience was great, but this experience was also extremely hard. I'm so thankful for Bernard welcoming us into his home to share in his life for a few days, and I would do it again in a second. I saw God a lot in those two days. I saw him in the simplicity of their lives in the village. I saw him in the way that Bernard continually served us, giving us the best food (meat is only served on very special occasions), and giving us a chair while he sat on the floor. I saw God in the way that Midias served her family by cooking food all day long over an open fire in an extremely small, smoky room. I saw the face of God in the faces of these children. I saw the face of God in the people that I met in the village that day. I saw his face in the face of an old, Ugandan woman who could barely walk, yet knelt at my feet to greet me. I saw God's face in the joy in these people's life that certainly does not come from circumstances, but a joy that can only be found in him. It was an incredible experience that I wish everyone could enjoy.
We got back to our apartment at 8:00 Tuesday morning. I was exhausted, dirty, and so ready for the comforts that I had been missing. I wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower and check my email. Well, God had different plans for that day. We got home to find out that our power was off, and it stayed off until 9:00 that night. So instead of spending my day catching up with friends back home, and relishing in the comforts of my life, God continued my bonding experience. What an incredible blessing that was. Instead of filling my day with endless hours on the computer, I filled my day with endless hours with God. I spent a lot of time with him in prayer and in his word. I was able to process my experience a lot and allow him to teach me even after I thought the experience had ended. I'm so thankful for the times that our plans don't turn out the way we want, and God gently reminds us that his plans are always better.
I'm sorry this is so long. It just seems impossible to sum up such a full experience in just a few short paragraphs. I'm going to end with some pictures of my time in the village. There's a bunch more on my website, so make sure to click on one of the pictures below to see the others. I love you guys. Thanks for walking this journey with me.
Friday, August 3, 2007
Wandering in the wilderness
I think I've been getting more out of our Bible lessons in school the past few weeks than my kids have. We're studying Hebrews 11, and we're calling it our "Faith Hall of Fame" study. (I figured that was one way to get the attention of my kids, since 3 out of my 4 students are sports-crazed boys.) It's been really great for me to take a closer look at some of those Old Testament stories that we've all heard a hundred times before. That's one of my favorite things about teaching...the fact that I get to learn things again and that they stick so much better now that I'm the one teaching rather than the one learning. So last week we talked a little bit about Moses and the Israelites wandering in the wilderness after God led them out of Egypt and out of captivity. We had talked about the great faith of Moses with the burning bush and with the 10 plagues the week before and last week was more of an example of what faith sometimes looks like when it wavers. It hit me in a completely new way just how much I am like the Israelites in my unsteady, ever-changing, always failing faith.
When I was reading the story to my kids, they couldn't believe, almost as much as I couldn't believe, how much the Israelites doubted God even though he continually met all their needs and gave them everything they could ever need. I was reading it thinking to myself, "This is incredible. These people are so stupid." The Israelites needed to be free so God sends ten plagues. They need to cross a sea so God holds back the powerful water for them. They are hungry so God sends them manna every morning. Water, how about out of a rock? I read these stories and I question how they could ever doubt God's faithfulness. I wonder how they could ever worry about being taken care of, when God mets their needs perfectly. I question why the time in the wilderness was not more a time of growth than it was. Why did they still doubt? Where was their faith? God gently and quietly humbled me throughout this very self-righteous, judgmental time, by revealing to me that I am no better than those Israelites. In fact, my faith is much weaker.
God does the same things in my life. He meets my needs daily. Sure it's not always in a can't believe your eyes, drop your jaw sort of way, but it is no less miraculous or amazing than it was with the Israelites. God has never once let me down. I let him down daily, but He picks me back up without hesitation. Gods knows my heart and He knows my needs better than I could ever express them. Why then do I still doubt his sovereignty and his supreme timing? I'm not sure, but God taught me a cool lesson about his timing this week.
I'm doing a Beth Moore study right now, and it's challenging me daily. It's on the fruit of the spirit, and this week it has concentrated on peace. All week, I've concentrated on praying for peace in several different areas of my life. I've been praying for the peace that only God can give, "which exceeds anything we can understand." I deeply desire His peace that, "will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus." That has been the focus of my heart this week. There were several days where I prayed this prayer non-stop throughout the day. It was at the forefront of my mind. Yet the more I prayed for peace, the less peaceful I felt. The more I asked for God's help in the hard situations, the more turmoil I felt inside of me. But then God did something pretty amazing. At the moment when I needed his peace the most, He washed it over me. My heart was guarded and my mind was full of peace. Amidst the storm, I felt calm. It was even cooler because it was a sense of peace that I can take no credit for. This was something that I know only comes from God.
Maybe, just maybe, there is more to be said of these times of wilderness wandering that we experience. Maybe it's in those times, the times when we desperately seek God, yet can't seem to find him, that we grow the most. Maybe God is changing our heart the most in the times we can't feel it. Maybe I'm way off on all of this. I guess this week I've just been convicted again, for the one thousandth time, that God's way is always the best. His ways are higher than our ways in the big areas of our life, and even in the small ones. I prayed for peace all week. God gave it to me at just the right moment, when He knew I needed it the most. I'm just thankful that despite my unfaithfulness, God never fails.
And this same God who takes care of me will supply all your needs from his glorious riches, which have been given to us in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4:19
When I was reading the story to my kids, they couldn't believe, almost as much as I couldn't believe, how much the Israelites doubted God even though he continually met all their needs and gave them everything they could ever need. I was reading it thinking to myself, "This is incredible. These people are so stupid." The Israelites needed to be free so God sends ten plagues. They need to cross a sea so God holds back the powerful water for them. They are hungry so God sends them manna every morning. Water, how about out of a rock? I read these stories and I question how they could ever doubt God's faithfulness. I wonder how they could ever worry about being taken care of, when God mets their needs perfectly. I question why the time in the wilderness was not more a time of growth than it was. Why did they still doubt? Where was their faith? God gently and quietly humbled me throughout this very self-righteous, judgmental time, by revealing to me that I am no better than those Israelites. In fact, my faith is much weaker.
God does the same things in my life. He meets my needs daily. Sure it's not always in a can't believe your eyes, drop your jaw sort of way, but it is no less miraculous or amazing than it was with the Israelites. God has never once let me down. I let him down daily, but He picks me back up without hesitation. Gods knows my heart and He knows my needs better than I could ever express them. Why then do I still doubt his sovereignty and his supreme timing? I'm not sure, but God taught me a cool lesson about his timing this week.
I'm doing a Beth Moore study right now, and it's challenging me daily. It's on the fruit of the spirit, and this week it has concentrated on peace. All week, I've concentrated on praying for peace in several different areas of my life. I've been praying for the peace that only God can give, "which exceeds anything we can understand." I deeply desire His peace that, "will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus." That has been the focus of my heart this week. There were several days where I prayed this prayer non-stop throughout the day. It was at the forefront of my mind. Yet the more I prayed for peace, the less peaceful I felt. The more I asked for God's help in the hard situations, the more turmoil I felt inside of me. But then God did something pretty amazing. At the moment when I needed his peace the most, He washed it over me. My heart was guarded and my mind was full of peace. Amidst the storm, I felt calm. It was even cooler because it was a sense of peace that I can take no credit for. This was something that I know only comes from God.
Maybe, just maybe, there is more to be said of these times of wilderness wandering that we experience. Maybe it's in those times, the times when we desperately seek God, yet can't seem to find him, that we grow the most. Maybe God is changing our heart the most in the times we can't feel it. Maybe I'm way off on all of this. I guess this week I've just been convicted again, for the one thousandth time, that God's way is always the best. His ways are higher than our ways in the big areas of our life, and even in the small ones. I prayed for peace all week. God gave it to me at just the right moment, when He knew I needed it the most. I'm just thankful that despite my unfaithfulness, God never fails.
And this same God who takes care of me will supply all your needs from his glorious riches, which have been given to us in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4:19
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