I got to watch another
miracle yesterday. I can’t share
most of the details, but suffice it to say that a little girl had been praying
for her momma. And God most
definitely heard her. A
couple of weeks ago He began a beautiful weaving of events and words, and
yesterday—I have no idea how He arranged it—the momma showed up exactly at the
place and time that became a miracle moment.
The follow-up
conversation of what had built to those few minutes revealed that God had
already spoken. He had told one of
those in this story two weeks ago that He most certainly had the situation in
hand. Worry wasn’t necessary,
because this battle was truly already won. How often do I really believe that for the situations
that weigh on my heart and mind? I
wonder if more often I say that I think He has done it, won the battle, but
pound heaven’s door, afraid that He might not answer if I don’t draw His
attention to the need that is in my focus. Yesterday was a good lesson to me. “Rest, child,” are words we can trust.
Sometimes we are called
to be in the trenches, to persevere, but there are seasons of rest as
well. It all, again, comes down to
responding to the Spirit as He moves, gently as a soft breeze, or boldly as a
storm of love that will forever change some part of the landscape. We can do either or anything in between
He calls us to in peace when we know His heart, trust His character, and love
His perfect timing. In that place,
we will experience the beauty as He paints it and hear the nuances of the
symphony He creates as words we thought we’d never hear begin to be spoken out
loud. We can live in the
mystery. We can toss the wet
clothes of our concerns into the dryer, set the temperature and timer on the
machine we’ve purchased, or put them out on the line of faith, and let the
fresh air of all He purchased infuse them. There is nothing like sleeping between sheets that have been hung
in the summer air. Yesterday was
like that. The fragrance of it
will linger with me for a long time.
It was the aroma of heaven.
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