This one is for you.

This one is for you.

Yup, you.

I’ve been thinking a lot about you lately–and praying for you of course (!). I am so incredibly grateful for each one of you. You are gracious and kind and supportive and wonderful and you inspire me to keep writing. (And did I mention wonderful?)

Yes, YOU! Each one of you precious readers.

Your emails, your comments… I’m continually humbled, and praising Jesus right alongside you!

That’s why this post/question is dedicated solely to you. I want to write to you and for you. And I imagine you probably get tired of all my mumbo jumbo.

Sooo…

What would YOU like to hear about? This time, it’s your choice.

Whatever it is, I’ll write about it!

Do you have questions about a passage of Scripture? Anything you’ve been wrestling with? A topic you’d like me to address? Just dying to know what my favorite cereal is?;) What I struggle with…what I love? How I’m prepping to move to L.A.? More on my health diagnoses? A topic you’d like me to write about on a weekly or monthly basis? More on breakups? I mean, let’s be honest, I’ll even write about the color teal if you’d like! (Cause I will!)

This blog is largely for your support and your encouragement, so you name it, it’s yours. Pop it in the comments below or click on the “Contact Lauren” link above, and it’ll send your question straight to my inbox:)

….and on that note, I’ll leave you with one of my all-time favorite phrases from Scripture–one I continually cling to. Have a blessed week! May you grow in grace as you seek the face of our Savior.

grace abounded

When his words are bigger than His words.

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(I love writing for She Reads Truth, #SheSharesTruth. The writing prompts challenge me to
think about unique caveats of this life journey–drawing me to dwell on His faithfulness–situations and moments that may have otherwise gone unnoticed. Enjoy!)

For so long I let him name me.

Lower case he. Not upper case He. 

Reminds me of that song. “Begin Again” by Taylor Swift. Do you know it?

She sings:

He didn’t like it when I wore high heels…

He always said he didn’t get this song…

I think it’s strange that you think I’m funny ’cause he never did…

I saw myself so vividly in that song. 

Except mine went a little more like this…

He said I wasn’t observant enough…

He wished I liked sports more…

He said I asked too many questions…

He said he wanted a girl that made his whole world come to a stop, and it wasn’t me…

He didn’t care enough to try anymore…

Bottom line: I believed the lie that I wasn’t good enough, that I was a failure.

The words cut somewhere deep, deep down, and for so long I let them define me.

Those words, they were bigger than my God. I let them be. 

But then there was this.

“As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today.” Genesis 50:20

Yes, there it was.

There was seeing a God who was powerful enough to make evil the slave of His grace.

More powerful than those words, than that pain.

There was immersing my mind so deep in Scripture, it was too drenched in the Truth to believe the lies. There was seeing the Truth for what it was. The Truth. The Truth that destroys the lies, tearing up its roots and burning its words.  

There was meditating on that Truth.

Not books, not  uncontrolled thoughts, not my interpretation, but Scripture. Raw Scripture. Letting the very breath of God breathe life into my weary bones.

There was reading Genesis, journaling, slowly, methodically, with tears in my eyes, witnessing the full scope of God’s character. Infinite, beautiful, unsurpassed love and beauty of God, painted against the backdrop of His holiness and wrath.

There was His sovereignty. The hand that holds, comforts, controls, drives, guides, and loves in every moment, every detail.

There was seeing my Savior. Him. Beautiful and pure and perfect.

There was seeing the cross and the grace. Undeserved, merciful. And then choosing to bestow that same grace and forgiveness on the boy that spoke those words.

And my God became bigger than those words.

And I saw a God who called me His own.

His child. His love.

I saw a God who chose me before the foundations of the earth. A God who knows the very number of hairs on my head; who planned my life before the beginning of time and is chiseling away. Refining. Transforming. Molding.

His vessel. 

I saw a Savior who lived a perfect, sinless life, and demonstrated a love I have never known.

And bore the wrath I should have born.

A God who imputed me with His Son’s righteousness and sees me as He sees His Son.

Perfect. Despite my wretched sin.

Not defined by the pain of those words or that boy’s opinions or his sin or my sin.

But.

Chosen.

Justified.

Forgiven.

Redeemed.

Loved.

Precious.

His clay pot. His work of art.

Daughter. Daughter of the King.

Names that bring life and joy and hope and healing.

The only names that matter.

Line dancing and canceled appointments.

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Amidst moving preparations and grad school work, here’s something little for you today:)

I can’t get enough of the grace.

The grace that I’ve seen lately.

The grace that has carried me through the difficult times and blessed me in spite of myself.

The grace that abounds when I’m least deserving.

The grace that kept me from marrying the wrong guy; that kept me at a red light longer than I wanted for the sake of my life; that kept me in a place in life I didn’t love to root out sin and heal relationships.

The grace that was at work even when I didn’t see it. The grace that supplied everything I needed to no credit of my own–socially, financially, physically, emotionally.

This may sound silly, but I even see the the opportunity for line dancing every week for some good clean fun as grace, and the friend that loves to go with me (as abundant grace!). It truly was a highlight of my week and has been a blessing. 

Even the grace in a massage appointment being canceled, so (unbeknownst to me) I’d have more money to furnish my new apartment. (At the time, I had no idea my life would dramatically change in just four days.)

Yes, there was grace when housing options fell through here, where I currently live…now I know to financially better prepare me for this move to L.A.

I never used to look for sovereignty and grace in every single little detail, but now I’m starting to learn.

And, can I tell you? It is incredible.

Might I encourage you to look for the hand of God in every moment…in the delays, in the detours, in the pain, in the joy, in the confusion. In the red lights, in the extra diaper change, in the extra conversation, in the canceled appointment, in the long checkout line. 

Why? Because grace abounds. For you.

Your Father delights in granting you grace.

Because it brings you joy and Him glory.

Watch in eager expectation for all that He has for you today.

“Grace and peace be yours in abundance through the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord.” 2 Peter 1:2

What is your unexpected grace story

Thank you for reading!

 

When surrender meets change and God moves you.

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I can’t even believe I’m writing this post.

And I’m not even sure I can find the words, but I am so excited to share with you.

Step back with me to 2010…A college graduation and a move back home. A long-term relationship headed for marriage had ended, my plans and dreams up in the air. I didn’t know what I wanted. I didn’t have specific career dreams. I didn’t know who I was. Frankly, I assumed I’d meet someone fairly quickly and end up married with babies without putting much thought into it. That’s everyone’s story, right?

God had other plans.

It’s been four years since that college graduation.

Four years of adventure. My first big girl job and career. New friendships, some stayed, some come and gone. Two health diagnoses. A revamped diet. New medication. A healed family relationship. A new car. Debt paid off. Two failed relationships, one of which failed twice. Death of two dear extended family members. Four raises. Two job title changes. Another family relationship mended. A new church. Grad program started and almost completed. Too many weddings to count. A new brother-in-law. A spiritual life overhaul.

Imprints on my heart. A life transforming. 

Two words: Difficult. Beautiful.

Much of these four years have been raw sanctification, mixed with abundant grace. So. Many. Times. I just ached, carried along solely by the grace of God. At times confused and frustrated. But more than anything, brought to my knees in humility and worship. God spent much of these four years rescuing me from myself.

Weeding. Planting.

Tearing down. Building up.

Surrender. Drawing out my plans, my dreams; shifting from my hands to His.

Can I tell you? So often I struggled. So often I felt just…stuck. So often I wanted out, I wanted change, I wanted movement. I wanted something different.

God, what is your plan for me?! Where are you taking me?! 

But He continued to whisper His grace. Through every downturn, through every ache, through every disappointment. Moment after moment. Year after year.

My plans are not your plans, my thoughts are not your thoughts.

Step after step of faith, trust, clinging to promises. Clinging to Truth.

And now….four years later, it’s all starting to make sense.

All the waiting, all the confusion, all the pain. 

For four years He tilled the ground. For four years He didn’t stop working. For four years He poked and prodded and refined. Despite my questions, despite my pain. There was purpose, there was direction.

And I drew strength from this.

“The Lord will accomplish what concerns me; Your lovingkindness, O Lord, is everlasting; Do not forsake the works of Your hands.” Psalm 138:8

And

“I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and let your heart take courage; Yes, wait for the Lord.” Psalm 27: 13-14.

He was equipping me, preparing me. Physically, emotionally, financially, academically. 

Healing me. Growing me.

And now much of that, of this season, is visibly coming to an end.

And then just a couple short weeks ago, I finally, really, really, let it all go. True, the truest, surrender. Sweet, pure. Palms open wide, knees to the ground: God whatever you want for me, my ransom life is yours.

And then two sweet women in my life started praying for answers, for movement.

And then, perfectly timed. One week ago, it’s as if God said, alright it’s time. Let’s go.

A job dropped into my lap without me doing much of anything.

And just a couple days ago I accepted that job. 

Ten hours away. In California. Near L.A. 

Can someone pinch me?

Did I really just quit my job to move to LA? 

Yes, yes I did.

And then the finances fell into place.

And then the housing and roommate situation fell into place.

And I can see the hand of God like never before.

And I just want to worship.

And suddenly those years of confusion are making sense. All those experiences. They had purpose (!).

I don’t know what life has in store for me. It’s a bit scary starting a whole new life, new friends, new world. But, can I tell you? I am beyond excited.

Because I don’t see me, what I’ve done or what I’ve accomplished or how I’ve changed. I see Him. His work. I see the glory. I see the grace. 

I see a God who loves me and has plans for me. I see a God who hasn’t given up on me even when He should have. 

Because grace abounded all the more.

So, this, this is for you.

For you, walking through seemingly unending years of pain and confusion. You, confused about His plan. For you….wondering if He is still working, taking you somewhere, refining you, or if He’s all but given up.

But He is. He’s preparing. Equipping. Sanctifying. Loving. Molding. Teaching. Transforming.

You.

And when the time is right, He’ll move you, literally or figuratively. He’ll act. Purpose will begin to emerge.

And you will see the glory.

And the grace.

I promise dear friend. Hang in there and keep looking up.

Blessing await. His plan awaits.

You are adored by the Creator of the Universe. 

And His plans for you are beyond your wildest imagination.

“But, as it is written, ‘What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him.'” 1 Corinthians 2:9

(I move to Southern California at the end of July to take a job in the Student Life Department at the Master’s College and Seminary. Ladies and gentlemen, my posts will be coming to you from the Greater Los Angeles area! Nope…never saw this coming… :))

For when it’s just been one of those days and you don’t know why.

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Have you ever had one of those days?

Where you’re just struggling.

And you have no idea why.

That was me the other day. Yes, I could go on and on about the abundant blessings of life. And there is so much joy in it all.

But for some reason I didn’t want to get out of bed. I just wanted to sleep away the daily grind. There are dreams unrealized. Hope deferred. Long tiring days. Expectations and demands. Guilt from being too tired to do it all.

And sometimes it’s just so so much. And all I want to do is pull a blanket over my head, shut out the world, and cry. And I’m so not a crier.

And then I had lunch with my mom and had a complete and total meltdown.

And I didn’t even know what was wrong (for all the girls out there:)). There was just this monstrosity of slashed hopes and hurtful words and expectations and pressure and relationships and pain and failure and…well there was just life.

And through the tears I tried to talk myself out of it all. 

I…I…I…am (sniff)..so…(hihu)…(hihu)…tha…nk…ful…for… it…all. He’s…ddone…so…(hihu)…much. I’m…so…bl…essed…(hihu). I…don’t…kn…ow…wh (sniff)..at’s…wrong…with…me….

(Got that?;))

And amidst my snorting and coughing and wiping my eyes and making myself into a hot mess, my mom said, “Lauren, you’re human.” 

“You’re allowed to have a good cry. You’re allowed to feel a little sad. It’s ok to have a day where your heart aches a little. It’s ok to have a day you don’t get out of bed to go to the gym. It’s ok to be tired and want a vacation. You’re human.”

And for some reason, that was just what I needed to hear.

And then my sweet friend text me this: “I think people sometimes think that believing in the sovereignty of God means that we are never confused, or feel sad, or question, or wonder, and it’s simply not true.”

So often I wonder if we put expectations on ourselves that He never places on us. So often I wonder if Christian lingo pushes us into false pretenses.

And suddenly the cultural expectations crash head-on into that Christian lingo and that collision tells us we need to just be ok. To hold your head high and smile through the pain and don’t cry over the same thing twice and pull yourself up by your bootstraps and keep going and it will all work out ok.

But. I don’t find that anywhere. Have you noticed He doesn’t ask us to be happy all of the time, or bottle our emotions up, or never hurt, or never feel sad, or never cry, or never have a day where the ache seems heavier than normal?

No. But He does say something else.

Trust me. Lean on me. 

Hard. And the worse it hurts, the harder we lean.

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28

“Cast all your anxiety on him because He cares for you.” 1 Peter 5:7

And that might sound cliché, but it’s true. But do you really do it?

Because the reality of life…of Christian life is hard. It’s not a shortcut, it’s not the easy way out.

It’s a sacrifice. And it’s sanctifying work. And it’s refining work, and that refining comes through heat. And sometimes my prayer is just this: “give me grace to do your will.” 

And so, here’s to the days where you need rest, both emotional and physical. Here’s to the days that it’s ok to mourn the dreams unfulfilled–not in an angry, wallowing way, but in an I’m-sad-but-still-trust-you kind of way.

Here’s to the days it’s ok to not do it all. 

Because He never asks that.

Because yes, He does tell us to rejoice in all circumstances. But perhaps one of life’s greatest clarifications came when I understood that doesn’t mean be happy all of the time, or be happy that I’m hurting. 

But rather, I am to rejoice because of what God is doing through the ache. Because of how He is working. Because of what He is up to. Because, despite the confusion and pain and ache and this-doesn’t-make-any-sense, I can trust that, through me, He will be glorified, and there is wonderful good coming from all of this.

And I can trust that, because that promise is rooted in the life and death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. 

And then there’s this.

“For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” Hebrews 4:15-16

What beautiful words in the midst of this life.

How can I pray for you today?

A picture of grace.

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Another post for the wonderful She Reads Truth, #SheSharesTruth

I used to recite my Awana memory verses to her. I was 5.

We lost touch.

I’m 26 now. (Today actually!:))

She’s the only Biblical Counselor in the area.

I’m studying to be one.

Last fall I attended a retreat she spoke at. By God’s sovereignty, she offered to meet and mentor me, and I agreed (honored, of course!)

This relationship, it was divinely orchestrated. Actually anything reflecting a discipleship or mentor relationship is part of that master plan. That master plan to mold us and shape us and refine us and change us and encourage us and grow us into the image of His Son. To teach us to live lives that honor the King.

Interwoven grace to help save us from ourselves.

Another picture of that redemption work. That work on the cross that touches every aspect of life.

There’s reason, there’s beautiful purpose for those relationships. Loving guidelines, love soaked truth, steering us from our natural tendencies.

We see a glimpse of one in Titus 2.

“Older women likewise are to be reverent in behavior, not slanderers or slaves to much wine. They are to teach what is good, and so train the young women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled, pure, working at home, kind, and submissive to their own husbands, that the word of God may not be reviled.” Titus 2:3-5 

I’m not married, I don’t have kids. It’s only partially a Titus 2 relationship for me. But it is a perfect relationship for the phase God has me in. And I am thankful beyond words.

I look forward to every coffee date. Our conversations about life never fail to encourage and bless. Conversations about counseling leave me inspired, educated, and hopeful.

Her love for the Lord is nothing short of what I strive for.

And when life encouragement is needed, she’s there.

Recently, after struggling with a couple difficult and painful relationships, she wisely spoke these words to me:

“It was a tool. They were tools. Those people. That time period. Meant to refine you. It was all for a purpose, a specific, divine purpose. Part of His story. No more, no less. And now He is finished using those tools.”

“He cast that drama with those chosen characters and it was not a mistake.” (More on this here.)

I could almost physically feel my burden lift with those few, divinely ordained, spoken words.

Perhaps the Lord is so gracious to give us just what we need in the moment, in the season. The person, the words, the encouragement.

Perhaps His love for us and knowledge of us extends far beyond our own.

Perhaps His grace is abounding far more than we will ever know or see.

Perhaps community, the body of Christ is far more important than we will ever understand.

It may not look like another’s grace-moment. The words, the person, the encouragement, the relationships are different, because the stories are different.

But it’s perfect.

This sovereign plan, this work of the Holy Spirit in her life, in my life.

This grace.

This gift. These gifts.

Leaves me awe-struck.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

They come in the most unexpected forms at the most unexpected times, amen?:)

The perfect forms at the perfect times.

When we don’t even know what we need. When we don’t  even realize we need it.

What perfect gifts at the perfect times has He blessed you with whether it be words, a person, or otherwise?

Because hiding is always easiest.

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I wanted to tag onto my post from last week with a couple more thoughts:) Enjoy!

The reaction is always to hide.

Hide from the shame.

Hide out of fear.

Hide in denial.

Hide from the truth.

Hide out of protection for self.

Just hide.

Someone else thought so too. In the Garden.

And their hiding was initially provoked by fear.

Fear that God was keeping something from them, something good. That God didn’t want their best. That His Word wasn’t true. That He was playing some cruel joke on them. That there was really something better out there, and they needed to discover what that was.

On their own.

“But the serpent said to the woman, “You will not surely die. For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate, and she also gave some to her husband who was with her, and he ate. Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked. And they sewed fig leaves together and made themselves loincloths.” Genesis 3:4-7.

The servant did it too. Hid. With his talent, his gift. Perhaps out of fear.

“But he who had received the one talent went and dug in the ground and hid his master’s money. Matthew 25:18

We’ve been hiding out of fear since the beginning of time.

Me too.

And it manifests itself in the most unlikely ways.

I’ve been torn apart, turned inside out, taught, refined, loved, humbled, seen and experienced abundant grace.

I’ve been brought to my knees and seen the face of my Savior. 

It’s a gift.

And it has been beautiful. And I would do it all over in a heartbeat if it meant learning what I’ve learned.

But isn’t it strange.

So often I want to hide it. That gift, those lessons, that pain that produced beauty. Pretend everything has always been ok. Like I haven’t struggled, don’t have a grace-story.

The Enemy likes to whisper that it’s a hindrance, that gift. That I should be ashamed. Ashamed of that pain, of that grace-filled work.

That I should care what others think. So I’m tempted to hide. Out of fear. What if they think I’m a mess? What if they think poorly of me? What if they have pity on me? I don’t want that.

Discouragement. He’s good at it. Fear of man trap. He’s good at that too.

That man’s opinion is more important than God’s. That any little criticism or hurt should derail my Kingdom work.

Can you relate?

That couldn’t be more opposite from the truth.

There’s a purpose. A specific, divine reason for this gift. It was no accident He chose me to experience the gift of that trial. That He chose to gift you with that specific gift, with that trial.

And it’s my honor to be entrusted with this gift.

To invest it. To use it. To till it, work it, and return it for the work of the kingdom.

And it is my joy.

But. The road to this…well it’s tough. This. Learning to fear God more than man. To care more about Him than I do about them. To worship Him, not them. To seek Him first, not them.

To offer my gifts to Him, not them.

But it is essential. If we are ever to be moved, to be uncomfortable. If our work is ever to accomplish anything for the Kingdom. If we will bury our gifts or invest our gifts.

He alone must be the object of our worship.

We must fear Him alone.

Yes, if fear is the problem, then fear, in fact, is the answer.

And then I found this. And I cannot think of a more appropriate way to phrase the blessings that flow from fearing God alone, of serving, sacrificing, offering those gifts with one goal in mind, and one goal only:

“I serve an Audience of One. Therefore, I can say to the world, ‘Before you I have nothing to prove, nothing to gain, nothing to lose.'” -Elyse Fitzpatrick

Yes, this. This is it. Living before an Audience of One. The only way to wholly offer our lives, our gifts, on the altar of praise, for the glory of Jesus Christ.

What gifts have you been entrusted with? Are you hiding out of fear? Perhaps God is urging you forward, asking you to make the most of the gift you’ve been entrusted with. How can you partner alongside Him in His work?

Thank you for reading!

It ain’t yours to throw away.

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“It ain’t yours to throw away.”

Those words, shrouded in beautiful music, pulsed through my speakers.

And my heart stirred.

And then that wise woman spoke these words:

“It was a tool. They were tools. Those people. That time period. Meant to refine you. It was all for a purpose, a specific, divine purpose. Part of His story. No more, no less. And now He’s finished with those tools.” 

“He cast that drama with those chosen characters and it was not a mistake.”

And the guilt and the ache slipped further away.

And then she asked me to write down 25 ways God used that time period to teach me.

I came up with 45 in 5 minutes.

And I saw it.

Can I tell you? There have been so. many. times. I wanted to throw those divinely crafted trials away. That hurt. Those moments, those lessons. I wanted to run. I was just so done. I just wanted it all to stop. Why me? Why so long?

But the longer I walk forward, the more I discover.

That time. It was a gift. A gift.

A gift from my Savior, made beautiful, for my good, to further His kingdom, and glorify Him.

The beauty that has come from that pain is jaw dropping.

Those years utterly transformed me. 

They formed me. Molded me. Refined me. Into Christlikeness.

They sifted (and tore) out deep rooted sin, sin slyly hidden for many years.

They drew out passions, showed me myself, and began forming my future, my ministry.

They redirected my worship out and up.

But.

Now it’s my turn. 

Because my life is a living sacrifice.

Because that gift is not mine to throw away.

Now the result of that time is my gift back to Him.

It’s humbling, really.

That.

It transforms the mundane, the pain, into a story. It cuts those years out of my tunnel vision, shrinks them, and pastes them into a much larger context. A beautiful, unique story.

His story.

And I’m living it. A valuable character in the story.

A story He’s writing, and He chose to use me. 

And I dare not squander this gift.

And the song continues, “What if you’re a vessel and God gave you something special.”

And the truth resonates. Hard.

And so I stop running from it. And I turn around, in holy surrender.

And I bow.

Arms outstretched. Palms spread wide. Gift offered high.

That grace. That grace. 

“You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good.” Genesis 50:20

He did it for Joseph. He did it at the cross. He’s doing it for me.

Now I go to work alongside Him. Making the most of that gift.

Because He’s in the business of redeeming lives, redeeming pain. Making it beautiful.

                                           ———————

What trials has He gifted you with? Are you still running from the hurt?

Will you embrace it as a gift? And then go to work alongside him?

Thank you for reading!

The broken-heart battle of the mind

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He broke my heart. 

And suddenly, there we were, my dreams and I, in a crumpled heap on the floor.

And I was angry.

And for months, the distorted memories just wouldn’t quit and my desires infused every thought and I wanted it my way and the masochistic music played and the tears spilled and the desperation built and the bitterness piled high and the thoughts spiraled out of control.

And before I knew it, I was a mess. Lying there. Hate-fueled and destroyed. Again. And again.

And that’s when the truth shattered it all. When I finally understood.

When my life forever changed.

**This was written as a guest post for the wonderful blog, Sacred Mundane. Please head over and read the rest over there. Blessings!** 

Thank you for reading!

After all we’ve been through…

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Remembering these truths from back in 2012. But what wonderful truths they are. Blessings!

I was watching a silly little TV show the other day, killing some time.

As with everything by Hollywood, there is some sort of struggle between good and evil, and that was certainly the case in this show.

In this particular scene, the “queen” and one of her “subjects” encountered a potentially disastrous situation. The queen apparently had it under control, though it certainly didn’t appear that way.

When she could see her “subject” was terrified and doubtful of her direction, she calmly and matter-of-factly stated:

“After all we’ve been through, why do you doubt?”

My heart lurched a little.

As silly as this example is, it made me think.

Isn’t that how God so often responds to us?

In the middle of those confusing, dark, and often terribly long trials, God so calmly reminds us of His sovereignty, His control, His unmatched love for us. That He has it all under control, even when it looks disastrous. When it sure doesn’t look like He does.

After all we’ve been through, why do you doubt?

I thought about my own life. All the times I’ve struggled to keep walking in the dark, wondering where on earth I was going. And, in the end, the path He lead me down was so much better than what I thought I wanted, or where I was originally.

Part of learning to trust your Father is remembering all you’ve been through together, how He never left your side–and then when you neared the end, how you realized His plan far exceeded yours.

And that you should have just trusted Him all along.

To trust in past grace is to draw from it confidence in future grace.

This morning I was reading in Genesis about Abraham and Sarah, a story that reminded me of this concept. God graciously told Abraham that Sarah would have a child. And what did Sarah do?

She laughed. At God.

Ya, probably not the best decision. But, I can relate– so often that’s how I react. Not trusting my Father. Not trusting His plan. Laughing at His promises. Placing confidence in my flesh. Not trusting Him to bring me His best.

Doubtful and terrified of His direction.

Like a disobedient child.

But God simply responded to Sarah, just as He responds to us, “Is anything too difficult for the Lord?”

No, it’s not.

Why don’t I remember that?

Sometimes I wish I’d just trust. Trust the impossible. Trust in the dark. Trust in the confusion. Trust the God of the impossible.

That He has it all under control, even when it looks disastrous.

After all I’ve been through with My Father, why do I doubt?

I have no right, no grounds whatsoever to doubt, because nothing is too difficult for Him.

And He’s been nothing but faithful.

What an amazing God we serve.