2010

Quitting

Our family loves to play games. Some of our favorite times have come as we played together, laughing and loving and being silly. One particular night not long ago, we decided to play animal charades. It was Ellie’s first turn, and she was crawling on all fours across the living room floor. Or maybe “crawling” isn’t the right way to put it. This particular animal’s gait seemed to be a cross between a polar bear’s and a turtle’s. I was puzzled. But Lindsey was certain she knew the answer. “Cheetah!” she shouted.

“Nope,” Ellie said.

“I quit,” Lindsey said matter-of-factly.

“Already?” I said, at the same time as my husband said, “But you only guessed once!”

“But I didn’t get it right, so I quit,” Lindsey repeated.

“Well, okay, I guess you can,” I said.

Right then, Ellie began making squeaking noises, and somebody figured out that she was a mouse. “Good job,” my husband said. “Kenny, you can go next, and Lindsey, you can just sit there and watch.”

“I told you I quit,” Lindsey said politely.

“You don’t even want to watch?” we asked.

“Nope,” Lindsey said. “I’m getting them all wrong. So I don’t want to play.”

I couldn’t help but be amused. Maybe it was Lindsey’s amiable tone of voice, the abruptness of her decision, or some combination of factors. Whatever the reason, I found the situation funny.

But sometimes, quitting isn’t funny at all. When someone quits something that really matters, it can be tragic. At the very least, the person involved will miss out on the blessing God had for her in that endeavor, and maybe cause others to miss out, too. At the worst, quitting can cause a lifetime of suffering.

Yes, there are times when God clearly tells us to stop pursuing something. At those times, we must be obedient. But I’m talking about the times we should keep going, and don’t. Discouragement, fatigue, and grief can all be powerful factors that make us want to quit. But if we listen to them when they are contrary to God’s voice, we’re making a big mistake—sometimes a huge mistake.

A mom can’t get her child to behave, so she throws in the towel and stops trying. I just can’t do anything with him, she reasons.

A wife doesn’t have the kind of communication with her husband that she desires, so she gives up trying to talk to him at all, except to say things like, “Will you pick up some milk on your way home?”

A woman’s life feels empty, so she turns her back on God. If God really loved me, He’d be helping me out more than He is, she believes.

At times, it seems impossible to keep going even one more step. There’s just nothing more left in us. We’re physically exhausted and emotionally weary, and hope is gone. But even then, when we’re far past the limits of what we thought we could endure, we don’t have to quit. There is a way to keep going. And it doesn’t involve dredging up energy from somewhere to try just one more time.

It involves doing the same thing our children do when they’re tired of walking: letting Someone else carry us.

We’ve all heard our child say, “Mommy, I’m tired. Will you carry me?” Sometimes, we grant the request, and sometimes, we don’t. But our heavenly Father is always ready and willing to carry us. He’ll never turn us down. Yes, He sometimes requires us to pass through the fire, but He doesn’t require us to do it in our own strength. He offers us His strength, which is constantly present and infinitely great.

We don’t have to make it through life in our own power. God is always ready to help us. He won’t always remove the circumstances that make things difficult for us (though He might!), but He will always lend us His strength to get us through what He has ordained for us to go through.

When we can’t take another step, He can. When we can’t face another day, He can. When we don’t know up from down, or how to move on, He does.

We don’t have to quit. He can keep us going, even when our strength is gone.

Deuteronomy 32:36—For the LORD will vindicate his people and have compassion on his servants, when he sees that their power is gone.

Sharing

My daughter, Jessica, loves to share. After all, she’s two-and-a-half.

Okay, well…sometimes she loves to share.

On one such occasion, while I was sitting on the couch working on my husband’s laptop, Jessica came into the room carrying her Happy Meal box. My husband had taken the kids with him while he ran errands so that I could get some things done around the house, and he’d taken them to McDonald’s for supper. Jessica climbed up beside me on the couch and handed me a ketchup packet. “Do you want to share these with me?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said, wanting to encourage her spirit of sharing. Jessica patted the red box with the golden arch handles and said, “Actually, you can share all of this with me.” She began taking the parts of her meal out of the box and placing them between us on the couch.

Her sweet spirit of sharing reminded me of a certain little boy sitting in the crowd listening to Jesus preach. Lunchtime came, and everybody was hungry. Nobody had brought anything to eat except this one little boy. And he shared the whole thing—his entire lunch.

Usually, when we think about this story, the focus is on Jesus and the great miracle He performed with the itty-bitty lunch. It’s always right to focus on Jesus; in fact, there’s no more worthy object of our attention. But I think we often miss the fact that this little boy shared. He offered what he had. There was no way he could have known what Jesus was about to do. But he shared anyway.

It’s a simple point, I know. It’s not terribly theologically profound. But it matters.

If we would all be as willing to share as the little boy was, or as Jessica was that time she sat beside me, this world would be very different. So would our churches. So would our families. But it’s hard to let go of our free time, our sleep, or our extra money. It’s especially hard to let go of our “right” to have things our way and concede that right to others, letting them have things their way.

What’s hardest for you to share? I know that for me, the answer depends on when you ask. Sometimes, I’m selfish about giving up sleep. Sometimes, I want to hang onto my rights. Please don’t misunderstand me; we aren’t supposed to say “yes” to every opportunity to give of ourselves. There are times when it’s our time to act, and other times when it isn’t. But when it is our time, we need to be willing to share what we have for the benefit of others.

Even if what we have is only an itty-bitty lunch. Or a Happy Meal.

Mark 6:38—“How many loaves do you have?” he asked. “Go and see.” When they found out, they said, “Five—and two fish.”

Matthew 10:8—Freely you have received, freely give.

Being a Doctor

I love the way kids think. Don’t you? (Well, okay, maybe not all the time, but often.) They see things so much more simply than we adults do.

Case in point: one day, when Lindsey was about three and a half, she and I were playing together. She loved pretend play, where she could be an adult for a little while. That particular day, we were playing with the doctor’s bag filled with a doctor’s tools of the trade—a stethoscope, a thermometer, a blood pressure cuff, and so on. Lindsey was giving me a checkup.

Apparently, I was always pretty sick. Lindsey would stick the thermometer in my mouth, take it out, and turn it to the frowny face that said I had a temperature. “You’re vewy sick,” she would say seriously. She was also very good about performing all kinds of medical procedures and curing all kinds of maladies. She has a caring soul, and she wants to make sure everyone is okay.

“Do you want to be a doctor someday when you grow up?” I asked her.

Lindsey replied happily, “I already am a doctor, cuz I have doctor stuff.”

Of course, if it were that simple, we’d all be playing in golf tournaments and driving really nice cars. But there’s a lot more to becoming a doctor than having doctor “stuff”. We know that, and we therefore wouldn’t claim to be a doctor if we hadn’t gone through medical school.

But the not-so-funny thing is, we often claim to love Christ just because we have Christian “stuff” or do Christian things. We look to our church attendance, our six different Bible versions sitting on the shelf, or our Christian music CD’s, and we take them as evidence of our love for the Lord. But those things are not necessarily indicators of how much we love Him. They may result from our desire to draw close to Him. But it’s possible to have all those things and not really love Him very much, if at all.

In fact, Jesus condemned the Pharisees for having all the right religious “stuff” and at the same time having hearts that were far from God. You and I would do well to examine our hearts, too. We may do all the right things, but do we love Jesus? We may even abstain from all the wrong things, but do we love Him? We might look really good on the surface, and we might even think we’ve got this “Christian walk” thing all together, but are we “doing” Christianity, or loving Christ?

I know there have been times in my life when I was amazed to find I had been on the wrong track, or been missing something, when all along I sincerely thought I was getting it right. Perhaps you’ve had those times, too. That’s why we should regularly present ourselves before God and ask the Holy Spirit to examine our hearts and reveal to us anything that does not please Him.

Let’s be willing to do that this week. Let’s lay ourselves open before Him and ask the Great Physician to purify our hearts of anything that doesn’t belong there. Let’s make sure we truly love Christ with all our heart, and not just with the things we do or possess.

Ephesians 6:24—Grace to all who love our LORD Jesus Christ with an undying love.

The Way Out

Last weekend, our family went camping for the first time. My husband and I had each been camping before, but we’d never been to the wilds since having kids. So, armed with all the camping gear some online list said we should have, and accompanied by some friends who knew more about camping than we did, we set out.

When we got to the state park, we were able to get two campsites that were close together. A short, winding trail of about twenty yards or so connected our sites. While my husband and I set up camp at our site, and our friends set up their tent at their site, our kids enjoyed running back and forth on the path. (We could see them the whole way.)

At one point, however, Lindsey missed a turn and continued straight on what did, indeed, look like a trail. The only problem was that it petered out and left her in the midst of some brambles, less than a yard from our campsite.

“Mommy?” she called, and I looked to see her peering out from in between the brambles and branches, not quite sure how she got there, and not sure how to get out.

“Sweetie, you went the wrong way,” I said. “Just back up. That’s right, turn around, and go—no, not that way—yes, that way. No, wait—never mind. I’ll come show you.”

I got up out of my brand new foldable camping chair and headed toward the trail to show her the way out by doing it myself. And as I did, I thought of how, on a far greater scale, Jesus did the same thing for us.

We had gotten ourselves into a mess, and we couldn’t get out. God had given us the law to show us the way, but we couldn’t follow it adequately. So Jesus came to personally show us.

He didn’t have to. He would have been completely justified in letting us remain stuck forever. After all, our sin is our own fault. But He didn’t. He came to lead us out, to make the impossible possible.

I felt fairly generous in getting out of my comfortable chair to help my daughter out of a mess of her own making. But how vastly more generous Jesus was in coming down from heaven to lead us to the Father!

Will you join me in praising Him?

Jesus, we praise you for Your infinite goodness, love, and mercy in coming to show us the way back. We acknowledge that it’s only through You that we can come back at all. Thank You, Lord, for showing us the way home. Amen.

Philippians 2:5-11—Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death—even death on a cross! Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is LORD, to the glory of God the Father.

Simple Gifts

If f I had to name the thing I miss most from my pre-mommy days, I would choose “good sleep”. I miss those days when I could count on a good, solid eight hours. I also fondly recall those long-ago times when I could stay up late, knowing that I’d be able to sleep in the next day.

Sleeping in doesn’t happen very often anymore. When I go to bed late, that just means I lose sleep that night. That’s because my body isn’t that one that determines when I wake up. Often, someone else’s little body decides when mine should be awake.

The other day, I was awakened by a little hand patting my shoulder. I opened my eyes and saw Jessica’s sleepy face mere inches from my own. “I want to get in Mommy’s bed,” she said.

I knew that if I let Jessica into my bed, any chance of getting further sleep was gone, because she likes to lie right up next to me with her head against my face. She tries to lie quietly, but when she lies that close, I feel every little squiggle (and the big squiggles, too). On the other hand, if I told her to go back to bed, she’d start wailing, and I wouldn’t get any more sleep that way, either.

So I pulled her up into bed with me. She snuggled against me, and I covered us both up. As I lay there, relishing the sweetness of having her little body curled up next to mine, I confess that I also felt a little bit crabby. I love Jessica, and I love cuddling with her, but couldn’t we have cuddled later? I was tired. I wanted to sleep.

If I had been able to sleep in that morning, I would have missed a gift from God. I would have lost precious time with my daughter, and I wouldn’t have heard God saying to my spirit, “Look how secure and relaxed she is with you. Don’t you love it that you can do that for her?”

As I thought more about the gifts God gives me through my children, I realized that I’ve probably been missing a lot of them. I’ve been hearing the requests for attention and missing the greater gift that comes with them.

When my son asks me to play trains with him, God is offering me the gift of knowing that someone wants to be with me just because he loves me.

When my daughter asks me to read to her, I receive the gift of getting to pause and take a moment out of my day to do a favorite activity.

When one of my children says, “Mommy, you look really nice today,” I get to know that someone thinks I’m beautiful.

On a regular basis, God offers all of us mommies the gifts that matter most to us, and He allows our precious children to be His means of delivering those gifts. The requests our children make of us are not just duties to be performed or annoyances to be gotten over. They are God’s way of meeting the deepest needs every mom has. The next time one of our children asks us for something, let’s see beyond the request. Let’s hear not only what our child is asking, but what God wants us to know.

You’re needed. You’re loved. You’re special. You’re a hero.

Philippians 4:19—And my God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus.

Surpassing Grace

Most of the time, I think I tend to be a pretty patient mom. Even the kids will tell you that I’m usually patient. (“Yeah, you’re just crabby sometimes.”) Sometimes, being patient isn’t very hard. Other times—like when I’m tired or annoyed, or when I’ve had a long day—my patience wears thin. I can still vividly remember an incident when I was mad about something else, and poor Ellie (then about two years old) came up to me, trying to get my attention. “What!?” I snapped, totally out of line. Ellie burst into tears.

I immediately dropped to my knees and hugged her, apologizing more than once. “Mommy’s so sorry, Ellie,” I said. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Will you forgive me?” She clung to me and said she would forgive me, but it took me much longer to forgive myself.

I had been completely ungracious and unloving in my response, and I felt terrible.

We’ve all been there. We’ve all yelled, or been impatient, or done something else that was uncalled for and hurt our precious child’s feelings, despite the fact that we love our children deeply and forever. Somehow, instead of offering grace, we’ve all delivered unkindness, whether our behavior is the exception to the rule or is, tragically, the rule.

I’m sure glad God offers me more grace than I sometimes offer my kids. When I think about what my life would be like if He only showed me the same measure of grace I show my children, I shudder. I don’t want His unkindness to be unpredictable or capricious—which it isn’t, because He’s never unkind. I desperately need His grace to be constant and overflowing, no matter what I do—which it is.

Even though I want to offer my children this kind of grace, I’ll probably never reach that goal this side of heaven. But I’ve learned that instead of berating myself when I mess up, or, worse yet, making excuses for my sin, I should use the occasions of my failure as reminders of God’s incredible grace to me. Yes, I absolutely should confess my sins against my children both to them and to God, and I should make every effort, under the Holy Spirit’s direction, to repent of my sins and treat my kids differently. But I should also take it a bit farther and allow my failures to turn me in humble gratitude toward the One Who never fails, despite the fact that I’ve sinned against Him far more than my children have sinned against me.

Will you do that with me? This week, when we treat our kids wrongly, let’s not only make it right, let’s thank God for being perfect in grace and abounding in mercy. Let’s ask Him to change our hearts to make us like Him in this way. And then, let’s go hug those precious children and pour out our love on them instead of our anger. After all, that’s how our Father treats us.

Matthew 18:32-33—“I canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me to. Shouldn’t you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?”

Cleaning Up

It’s amazing how quickly the house can get messy. Sometimes, I have it clean, but then I blink, and when I look again, the kids’ toys are scattered out all over the place. So I decided a long time ago to make the kids responsible for cleaning up their own messes. Each child has to clean up his or her own stuff throughout the house, as well as help Mommy when necessary.

One day, when I saw that the floor in Kenny’s room was covered with his favorite toys, I told him to go clean his room. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and went in to start cleaning. That’s nothing new. He is almost always quick to obey when I ask him to clean. But this time, his response turned out to have been even more extraordinary than consistent obedience.

A couple minutes later, I went to check on him and found him cleaning up his toys. He had obviously been working since I told him to begin, but there was still a lot left to do. “Kenny, who was in here playing with you?” I asked, intending to have that child help him.

Kenny paused a second, considering the question. “Nobody was playing with me, because I wasn’t playing,” he said. Then he added willingly, “But I’ll clean it up.”

Wow. What an awesome attitude. Even though he had had no part in the mess, he willingly went to clean up when I told him to. He could have protested that he hadn’t been the one to make the mess and therefore shouldn’t have to clean it up, but he didn’t. He simply went and did as he was told, and with a good attitude.

I guess I need to take a lesson from my son. Sometimes, when I’m told to do something, I protest. I’m not the one who did the wrong thing. Why should I have to be the one to deal with the mess that other person left behind?

But Jesus would have far more of a legitimate complaint than you or I would. After all, we’re the ones who messed up our lives by sinning. Yet He came to earth, lived, and then died on a cross for us so He could help us clean up our mess. He wasn’t the One Who made the mess; in fact, He never sinned in even the smallest degree. Yet the perfect righteousness of His perfect life now stands in place of our filthy rags, so that when God looks at us, He doesn’t see a mess. Instead, He sees us as spotlessly clean.

Most of us try to teach our kids that everyone in a family needs to pitch in a little extra to make the family run smoothly. But Jesus pitched in more than a little extra. He gave everything.

So the next time He asks us to help someone clean up his or her mess—whether that means forgiving an offense, providing instruction, or showing compassion—let’s do it with the right attitude. It’s not my mess, but I’ll gladly help clean it up. After all, You cleaned up everything for me.

Psalm 51:7—Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.

Forever Kisses

I’ve written before about how Lindsey loves to come give me a “nighttime kiss and nighttime hug” each night. She is so dedicated to showing me love like this that even on a recent overnight visit to her grandparents’ house, she called the first evening so she could say “nighttime kiss and nighttime hug” over the phone.

But one day not too long ago, this routine became even sweeter. “I’ll give you another kiss,” Lindsey said, and kissed my shoulder. “Now it’ll be there whenever you need it,” she said. “A forever kiss!” I responded, and hugged her tightly.

She gave me a few more forever kisses that night—one or two on each shoulder, I think. Then, I gave her one. I told her that any time she needed a kiss from Mommy, she had one right there on her shoulder.

Forever kisses. They’re one of the most precious ideas any of my children has ever come up with. And even if someday, Lindsey forgets she ever gave me forever kisses, I won’t. I’ll remember they’re right there on my shoulders.

But Lindsey isn’t the only one who’s given me forever kisses. You have some, too. They’re from our Father.

You see, God loves us even more than Lindsey can love me with all the overflowing love in her precious, four-year-old heart. And just like Lindsey, God wants us always to know we’re loved. So He’s given us forever kisses, so that any time we need them, we can remember His love for us.

What are some of God’s forever kisses? The Bible, for starters. It’s not merely an instruction manual, though it certainly is that. It’s also God’s forever kiss to us, one of His ways of reminding us of His love. All through it is the story of how God redeemed us, though we didn’t deserve it. It’s the story of how He sent His Son to take the penalty for our sins so we didn’t have to. It’s a love letter.

The Holy Spirit is another of God’s forever kisses. We know that one reason the Spirit resides in our hearts is to convict us of sin. But do we ever stop and think that another reason the Spirit lives within us is to remind us of God’s love for us? He is a constant “forever kiss”, because He’s constantly with us.

What about our families? Our husband? Our children? Forever kisses. Our friends? Our church families? Yep. Forever kisses.

God doesn’t place things in our lives for merely utilitarian purposes. No, each blessing He grants us is a constant reminder of His love. And even if some of the blessings don’t last for eternity, but fade into the past, we can be sure that others will take their place. That certainty is in itself a forever kiss.

How many forever kisses from God can you spot in your life right now? Look around. I bet there are more than you can count. Let’s try something this week. Let’s make it a point to notice at least one forever kiss from God each day. He’s given us far more than that; surely we can notice at least one. And I bet that as we start noticing one, we’ll begin to notice more and more, until we recognize far too many to number.

Jeremiah 31:3—“I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving-kindness.”

Off the Deep End

I remember the city pool I used to frequent when I was a kid. I loved that pool, and I spent many hours there every summer. One of my favorite things to do was jump off the high dive. That diving board was at least a hundred feet up in the air. You had to gather your courage just to climb the ladder and walk out to the end of the diving board. Then, you had to muster up some serious courage in order to take the leap off the end of the board, into the water that waited for you a mile below.

Even though I was a good swimmer, and even though I’d gone off that board a million times, I still felt that shiver of fear when I got ready to jump. So I can understand why my kids, who are still learning to swim, are afraid of jumping off the side of the pool and into their swim instructor’s waiting arms. It’s scary. Sure, the teacher says she’ll catch you, but will she really? Or might you somehow go under water? Like all the way, with even your head under?

As I watched my children’s instructor trying to coax them to jump to her in the water, I thought about how much we moms are sometimes like my children. We fear entering something that might be dangerous. So we stand there, arms outstretched, bouncing a little, but afraid to get our whole body into the jump and leap forward, because we’re afraid we’ll go under. We’re afraid He won’t really be there when we hit the water’s surface. After all, bad things happen sometimes in life, right? Even to good people. So how do we know we can trust God to be there for us when we really need Him?

Or perhaps we’ve been pushed off the edge of the pool by someone’s death or by tragedy, and we’re desperately hoping Someone will be there to catch us and help us keep our head above water. Will God meet us? Or will we drown?

Those are honest, heart-wrenching questions, and they deserve an honest answer. The answer is this: yes, sometimes bad things happen to us. Sometimes, when we leap into the pool, we do go under. But it’s not because God is simply standing by, arms crossed, not even trying to catch us. If that’s what we think, we’re badly mistaken. No, when we jump into the pool, God is standing there with His arms reaching for us, ready to catch us as we begin to fall. And if we go under, He goes under with us, holding us tightly in His arms.

God didn’t promise that we’ll never have trouble, but He did promise to go through everything with us. He also promised that our trials won’t overwhelm us. Yes, sometimes they seem overwhelming, and relief takes forever in coming. Sometimes, it doesn’t come until heaven. But it will come. We’ll shake the water droplets from our hair and wipe them from our eyes, and we’ll realize we’ve made it. God has safely brought us through one more time. And then, I imagine we’ll do what my children always do when I catch them when they jump—we’ll cling tightly to the One who saved us and rest our head on His shoulder. He’ll set us back on dry land, and going under will have become only a memory—a memory, and a testimony to the grace of God in bringing us through.

Isaiah 43:2—When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walkthrough the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.

John 16:33—I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.

Never Sleeps

It was the time of night that all moms look forward to, when the kids are in bed and the house is quiet. The other night, my husband and I had gotten the kids to bed a few minutes before. We’d had just enough time to sigh and begin to relax when we heard Jessica calling, “Lindsey! Lindsey!”

As my husband later related it to me, he went into the girls’ room to see what the matter was. “Lindsey’s not listening to me,” Jessica said.

My husband looked up into Lindsey’s top bunk, where Lindsey lay amidst all her stuffed animals and blankets. She was sacked out. “Jessica, she’s asleep,” Phil said.

“But she’s not listening to me!” Jessica insisted.

“Lindsey can’t hear you,” Phil repeated. “She’s asleep.”

“Oh. Okay,” Jessica said agreeably as what Daddy was saying finally clicked. “Lindsey’s tired.”

Phil settled her back down in bed, covered her up, and left the room. He came and told me about their conversation, and we both had a good laugh. Lindsey hadn’t been ignoring Jessica at all. She’d been asleep.

In fact, that was what Elijah suggested was going on when the prophets of Baal couldn’t elicit the desired response from their god on Mount Carmel. “Oh, Baal, answer us!” they begged.

“Hey,” Elijah said (I’m paraphrasing here), “maybe he’s busy. Or maybe he’s on a business trip. No, wait! I’ve got it. Maybe he’s asleep!”

Obviously, their god wasn’t asleep, because he was no god at all. He wasn’t real. But when it came time for Elijah’s God to respond, God sent fire from heaven to consume the sacrifices, the altar, and even the water around it. He wasn’t asleep. He was listening to what was going on the whole time.

Aren’t you glad God never sleeps? He never gets tired and has to check out of humanity’s concerns for a little siesta. He’s always listening to the prayers of His beloved children and watching what goes on with us. Unlike Jessica, we’ll never cry out for His attention, only to find out later that He didn’t hear us because He was sleeping.

There may be times when we cry out repeatedly, and it seems like God doesn’t respond. But it’s not because He’s sleeping. He’s not unaware of what goes on in our lives, and He’s not unconcerned. Just because we don’t get the response we want, when we want it, doesn’t mean He’s oblivious.

Over and over in the Bible, we’re told that God always watches over us and never grows weary. To me, that’s amazing. I try to be a vigilant mom, paying careful attention to my children and taking good care of them, but I can’t even approach God’s level of watchful care—especially considering that I need sleep, and He doesn’t.

He’s always awake and always attentive. He’s always concerned about everything we do, and everything that happens to us. Even while we sleep, He remains awake to watch over us and all His beloved children. So before we go to bed tonight, let’s take a minute to stop and thank God for staying awake so that we can go to sleep—for handling things for us so that we can check out for some rest when we need to. What an amazing God we have!

Psalm 121:4—Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.