This morning as I was fretting and sad, God reminded me that He is enough and that He can be trusted. Even if there is a terrorist sitting next door to me. He is my safety, not my border, not my neighborhood, not my church, not my husband. This is the scariest thing to me and yet the most reassuring.
When we were in the hospital, a peace came over me and it was this: He is. He was and He is. He has been there during the crusades and He has been there at his own death on the cross when the whole world shunned him...o.k. maybe not his momma Mary, but yes, everyone.
He understands the rhythms of history. He isn't surprised..I have to remind myself of this. At one point last week, I forgot this.
My mind wanders often to the refugee situation. What would do? What should I do? I want a huge piece of property so I can have all of them....at least the children. I don't want anyone else to die. Enough already, right?
Then God came in to my aching heart and said something like,
"I can take people away to a better place and although there is loss for those of you left, it's not surprising for me, and not for long. Here the sun is always shining and there's no tear in any eye. My presence is completely here and my promises are fulfilled. "
I think it's a trust issue...if we trust Him, we can be safe. If we trust Him, we are given peace. I though, get frustrated with what's not happening and think it's not going to work out well. I think I honestly don't see pain and suffering as normal, we see happiness and health as normal. I do.
Those little faces in pictures of kids sleeping in streets, whether it be now or 10 years ago, in Paris, Syria or the Philippines---I can't hack it. I feel guilty snuggling with my kids. I feel ashamed that I ever complained about, well, anything. I do honestly feel like if I could do something, then it would be better. And not outside of giving and praying and positioning myself to help and serve...but like if we could just quit our jobs and move there and hire a truck and get food and blankets...that I could hug them all and the bad guys would go away.
A few years ago when we lived in the condominium in North Park, I found out that there were 4 sex offenders (1 on parol and 3 major) that lived IN MY COMPLEX. As in, 3 doors down, upstairs, down the hall. At first my heart raged...how could God let me buy in a neighborhood with those crazies? I have a baby! Then we moved to a different neighborhood by the beach...ahhh, away from the crazies...ahhh. Knock, knock. It's my neighbor to tell me that the guy a house down was just released.
No bad guys can steal my Jesus. And if in the end, I die because of the bad guys, then I get to go be with the good guy. And my friends and family will be sad and sing great songs at my memorial service and I will wait for them where the mountains touch the sky, at the end of the rainbow, because I'm covered. I'm covered by His blood.
I want to trust Him.
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