Sometimes life hits so fast and so hard. And just as I’m launching a 5 part series on trust, one of the greatest object lessons regarding trust smacks me square in the nose.
It left me wordless. Fingers paralyzed to type anything of sense. Some days it was enough to breath in and out and shuffle through the duties before me, let alone to sit down and let my mind creatively flow with text.
Then there is always the dilemma of what is too much to share. I want to develop a platform of genuine faith and honest emotion of the rawness of life’s ups and downs. But I also want to protect the privacy that those so precious to me deserve.
So my blog went dark for a season. Most of you in the busyness of your own agendas probably didn’t take notice. But for those of you who did, that is why. I have a heart for this ministry but my family is also a ministry, and my family will always come first.
Most recently we faced the parenting challenge of telling our kids about a hard transition. We heard desperate pleas and saw tear streamed faces, but our decision had to hold strong. It’s been one of the harder moments of parenting to date. Our kids only see the present pain which is directly in front of them; the struggle and inevitable discomfort which accompanies change. But my husband and I see the future pain and risk from which we are protecting them.
There is so much we can’t explain to them; so much they should not be allowed to be exposed to or asked to carry. They should not be forced to see the full ugliness of sin or our fallen world and asked to carry the burdens of an adult. They need to be allowed to be 7 and to be 5. They deserve a childhood.
We’ve provided what answers we’re able, but for the rest, we simply ask them to trust us. We’ve asked them to have faith that they have a mommy and a daddy who ultimately want what is good for them. That we love and cherish them and at times have to make hard decisions which protect them from that which they cannot see.
Oh how God challenged my heart later that night. After tucking my daughter into bed and assuring her that though it would be hard, I would hold her hand tight through the process, God began to prick at my spirit. How much is our walk with our Heavenly Father like that?
We seldom fully understand why he asks us to walk through the deep waters. We do not always understand the present pain and suffering. I don’t understand any more than my children why we were dealt this trial.
But God cannot, or does not choose to, always tell us why. Like my little children who deserve to be just that, God knows that there are times we deserve to be his children. Some things would be too much weight for us to bear. While he, on the other hand, has already been willing to bear all the weight of sin on our behalf. In the same way God didn’t tell Job of the spiritual battle at play behind some of his suffering, and in the same way that God’s original plan was to spare Adam and Eve from the knowledge of the evil which existed in contrast to his goodness, there may be times God chooses not to tell us all the “whys” for our own benefit.
Who of us has the mind of God? And who of us can expect that we can understand the grand happenings of this life in the way our Majestic God can? It’s not that it is wrong to seek to understand, but there are moments God simply asks us to trust him with a childlike faith, ultimately trusting in his goodness and provision. Blindly and loyally trusting, one step at a time.
That is the season in which I find myself presently. Faith not shaken, but blindly trusting my Heavenly Father. Knowing this upcoming season of change and transition will continue to be hard, but knowing I can face anything with him holding us as family. How glorious to serve such an intimate Savior God who does not leave us nor forsake us.