How to Be Patient

When God Seems Too Slow

Megan Breedlove February 13, 2017 0Comment

Last Sunday, along with much of the rest of America, my husband and I watched Super Bowl LI. Timmy watched occasionally, not because he cares about football, but because he wanted to be where Daddy and I were. So while Phil and I enjoyed the game, Timmy’s favorite part was the Skittles commercial, where he learned that you could make a rainbow out of the candies (“Taste the Rainbow”).

Timmy asked me to buy him a rainbow, so the next time I made a grocery list, I put “1 pkg. of Skittles—Timmy” on the list. As soon as my husband got home with the groceries and handed the package to Timmy, Timmy asked me to open it for him.

Usually, I just tear a corner off the bag. But since Timmy tends to spill candy, I thought it might work better if I pulled the two halves of the bag apart at the top. I carefully began pulling on each side of the wrapper slowly, so that it wouldn’t come apart suddenly and fling a rainbow all over my living room.

Timmy, seeing only that it was taking me far too long to open his rainbow, said sweetly, “Hmm. It looks like you forgot to bring your muscles.”

I’m sure it did look to him like I wasn’t strong enough to do the job. In his mind, that was the only explanation that made sense. After all, if I were capable of doing so, I’d rip that bag wide open and give him what he wanted right now. Wouldn’t I?

Well, no. Because my ways were higher than his ways.

Sound familiar?

Scripture tells us that God’s ways are higher than our ways (see Isaiah 55:9). You and I affirm that. Of course God knows much more than we do, we say. In the calm, peaceful times, it’s easy for us to affirm that God’s ways are different from ours, and that there are some things He does that we will never understand. But when life happens and we suffer pain because God isn’t doing what we want Him to do right now, we forget who we are and who He is, and we question His ways. We question His abilities. We question His love.

Desperate for relief from out pain, we conclude that He must be doing something wrong. Because He wouldn’t really want us to suffer like this, would He?

Would He?

Yes and no. It’s not that God delights in suffering; far from it! God never delights in any of the horrible, damaging effects that sin has brought into the world. But God does know that sometimes, our suffering is somehow necessary to His plan.

Well yay, we’re tempted to think. God’s plan is accomplished, and that’s great. But what about me? Do I matter so little to Him that He will willingly sacrifice me to achieve His greater plan?

Again, yes and no.

Yes, God sometimes allows us to experience pain because somehow, the results of all of that are going to further His great and glorious plan.

But no, He doesn’t let us suffer because He cares so little about us. It’s not that at all. You see, the furtherance of His plan for the world is what’s best for us.

This statement sounds harsh and cruel if we believe that what’s best for us involves eliminating as much of our pain as possible. But if we believe that the fulfillment of God’s purposes is what is best, we must acknowledge that sometimes, experiencing pain will somehow be necessary.

I don’t pretend to know why everyone has to experience each moment of pain and suffering that crosses her life. I only know that somehow, it’s necessary. Because a God who loves us so much that He was willing to sacrifice Himself for us won’t allow us to suffer one second longer than He has to.

He may be acting more slowly than we’d like. But He’s never too slow.

He always acts at just the right time. And He’s as eager for that moment—the moment when He can relieve your suffering—as you are.

He longs for that day, too.

2 Peter 3:9b—The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. (NIV)

Why Aren’t We Going Yet?

Megan Breedlove February 6, 2017 0Comment

This past weekend, Timmy and I went to Tulsa, Oklahoma, to see Paw Patrol Live!. We drove up on Friday and stayed overnight at a hotel, then got up the next morning to get ready to see the show.

The only problem was, Timmy woke up early due to excitement, and we were therefore ready long before it was time to leave. Timmy was mostly patient up through breakfast, but once we were back in our room with nothing to do but wait until departure time, he just couldn’t stand it. “When are we going to leave for Paw Patrol?” he asked over and over.

I told him repeatedly that we would leave at 9:15, which would give us time to get gas, drive to the venue, find parking, and get to our seats. Unsatisfied, Timmy kept repeating his question until I told him to stop asking—at which point, he changed his question to, “Why aren’t we going yet?”

“Because it’s not time to leave yet,” I said. “I will tell you when it’s time to leave, I promise.”

Even then, poor Timmy had a hard time waiting.

I don’t blame him, however, because I’m just like him. I have a hard time waiting, too, especially when it’s something that’s hugely important to me, like Paw Patrol Live! was to Timmy. So when I knew that God wanted to teach me a lesson through this experience, I assumed He wanted to teach me to wait patiently, because He knows when the right time is for everything. And He does—oh, how He wants me to learn that!—but that’s not all. He also wants me, and you, to realize how He feels when He has to make us wait for something we deeply desire.

How does He feel when He knows that on the one hand, He could grant His child’s wish, but on the other hand, He must not? When He holds back His hand because the desired thing will be good one day, but not yet, and He sees His child suffering?

I don’t know how to define it. I don’t know if I entirely know the answer. But I do know this, because Scripture teaches it over and over: God is not unmoved by our suffering. Ever. His confidence in the goodness and perfection of His plan means that He knows it is right to make us wait, not that He is unaware of the suffering this will cause us or that He is indifferent to our pain.

So, while I may not be able to define it, I think I can begin to get a glimpse of the answer, and so can you. Imagine how you would feel in that situation—you know you must make your child wait, but the longer you do, the more his suffering increases. How would you feel then?

Be reassured, my friends. Be comforted. God will never ask you, His beloved child, to wait if it’s not truly necessary. He will never withhold a good thing from you one second longer than He has to.

When giving that gift is both for His glory and in your best interest (fortunately, those two are always the same), He will present it to you.

He longs to give you good things, and He will, as soon as He can.

He’s looking forward to that moment, too.

James 1:17—Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. (NIV)

When You’ve Just. Got. Nothing.

Megan Breedlove August 22, 2016 0Comment

My sister is my best friend. We keep in touch regularly and frequently. We sometimes talk on the phone even when we don’t have anything much to say. At some point, if we run out of things we can pretend are important enough to talk about, there will come a long pause, and then one of us will say, “Well…I got nothin’.”

Today, it is with reluctance that I say the same to you, the precious mom reading this. And I’m sorry to have to say it. But I got nothin’.

The details don’t matter, and I’m not including them here for the same reason I think Paul never told us what his “thorn in the flesh” was: so that we could all identify with him, instead of only a few. And I’m well aware that others in this world are suffering far worse than I am. But suffice it to say that right now, I am spread so emotionally thin and am struggling to bear so much stress and pain that I have no encouraging words for you. I have no funny stories. I have absolutely nothing to offer you that would make your day any better, urge you any closer to the Lord, or even make it worth your time to read this.

Unless, of course, there is someone out there who can somehow benefit from reading the following words: I still have faith.

I do not have faith that God will necessarily make my circumstances better (some will not improve until I reach Heaven, unless God should choose to do a bona fide miracle). Can He, if He wants to? Oh, yes. But will He? I don’t know.

But if He doesn’t, it won’t be because He doesn’t care. It will be because somehow, in some way, He knows that He must not. That He can not, if He is to do what is right and best (and only He gets to determine what those are). It won’t be because He is somehow unaffected by my neediness and pain; on the contrary, He will weep with me.

I don’t know whether or not He is going to take away my pain. I hope He does! But I refuse to define His goodness by whether or not he changes my circumstances. I refuse to stop loving Him simply because He won’t do what I want, like some sort of genie in a bottle.

I refuse to accept good from God, and not trouble.

I choose faith.

I choose Him.

Job 2:10—“Shall [I] accept good from God, and not trouble?” (NIV)

Daniel 3:17-18—“If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand. But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up.” (NIV; emphasis mine)

How Not to Worry

Megan Breedlove March 7, 2016 0Comment

worried woman This past Friday night, Lindsey and I were lounging on the couch together, just hanging out. She, of course, wanted to stay up late. But much as I wanted to continue our time together, I knew it would be better for her to get plenty of sleep.

“You’re going to have to get up early tomorrow,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s why I’m tired.”

“You’re tired in advance?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said again. “It happens.”

Indeed, it does. I, too, have had times where I thought ahead to something that was coming up and got tired just thinking about it. You’ve probably had those times, too.

It’s understandable. The only thing is, we have to be careful about letting tomorrow affect today too much.

Apparently you and I aren’t the first ones ever to do this, because two thousand years ago, Jesus cautioned listeners now to let tomorrow mess up today. “Do not worry about tomorrow,” He said, “for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own” (Matt. 6:34, NIV).

Why would Jesus tell us not to do something that comes so naturally for us? First, worrying won’t change anything. In the verses just before the one cited above, Jesus illustrates this fact in several ways: We can’t add to our height. We can’t add a day to our lives. We just. Can’t. Do. It.

Not only does worry accomplish nothing, Jesus says, but second, we know that everything we need will be provided. All we need to do, He says, is focus on God and His priorities, and God will take care of the rest. It doesn’t make sense to worry when we know that we’re going to be taken care of.

Third, worrying destroys our peace. It churns us up inside. It’s useless (that was the first reason), it’s pointless (that was the second), and, third, it’s destructive. God doesn’t want us to harm ourselves like that.

So how do we stop worrying (which is often much easier said than done)?

First, let’s realize that Jesus wasn’t saying to stop thinking about tomorrow; He was saying we should stop worrying about it (huge difference). Thinking about tomorrow is okay; worrying isn’t.

Second, we have to admit that worrying is a choice. It’s not required. Even when we’re facing something potentially difficult, we have a choice as to the perspective we choose to take. We can choose not to let thoughts of what might happen tomorrow ruin what is happening today.

When we find ourselves tempted to worry about the possibilities, let’s choose instead to focus on the fact that today, it isn’t happening. Today, there are things to rejoice in and enjoy. There is life to be lived.

Yes, what happens tomorrow might be awful. But it might not. If it is, then God will meet us there, with His incredible love, comfort, and wisdom. We will be cared for. We will survive.

If it’s not…well, then there was no point in ever worrying about it in the first place.

Matthew 6:34—Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. (NIV)

When You Need Practice

Megan Breedlove February 29, 2016 0Comment

Football practice I didn’t think picking up Cheerios was such a big deal.

Apparently, it was, at least to Timmy, who didn’t want to pick up the bag of Cheerios he’d dragged into his room for use with his Cheerios book.

“Please pick up the Cheerios and put them away,” I said.

“Aagghh!” Timmy yelled. “I’m mad! And angry! And shout-y! And I’m never going to clean up anything!”

“Oh, yes, you are,” I said firmly.

“I’m bad at cleaning up stuff,” Timmy grumbled in a last-ditch protest.

“That’s why you need practice,” I said.

There then ensued an hour-long battle over whether Timmy was or was not going to pick up the Cheerios. I told him he could sit in his room until he was willing to put the package back on the counter; he refused and kept escaping from his room; I kept putting him back.

The problem was eventually solved by Jessica, who went into Timmy’s room while I was otherwise occupied and convinced him to pick up the Cheerios. But that’s not the point.

The point is that I think that God sometimes has to do the same with us—that is, give us opportunities to practice things we’re not good at.

I don’t know why most struggles and trials happen. I don’t know why we sometimes have to keep dealing with the same thing over and over and over. But I bet that sometimes—on occasion—the reason God allows us to keep facing the same issues repeatedly is because we need practice in dealing with them.

Sometimes, it just takes us awhile to get things through our heads. Sometimes, we know in our heads how we ought to speak or think or act, but we’re not yet ready in our hearts to put those things into practice. And even when we are ready, and have the best of intentions, we still mess up.

We need practice.

It’s kind of like studying for a test or training for an athletic competition. We study, or put in the physical effort, beforehand, so that when the time of testing comes, we’re ready. Likewise, we need practice in dealing with certain issues so that when they arise, we can handle them right, or at least better than we did last time.

Not that practicing is fun. It’s not. Nobody likes struggling to hold back the words she really wants to say, or to have a good attitude when she wants to scream. Nobody wants trials or struggles. But we all want the ultimate result—being able to handle even negative situations without getting upset, and in the process, pleasing Christ.

So we’re going to have to practice. “Practice” may or may not be the purpose in our struggles. But as long as we have to struggle, let’s not waste those opportunities. Let’s use them as a way to help us progress toward the ultimate goal of being like Jesus.

God wastes nothing. And neither should we.

Hebrews 12:11—No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. (NIV)

When Life Attacks

Megan Breedlove March 23, 2015 0Comment

angry dog I love to run for exercise. Recently, my youngest daughter Jessica decided to start running with me. Currently, she is working toward running enough times to earn a pair of good running shoes and some running apparel.

There is a particular loop in my neighborhood that I often run: two blocks down, one block over, two blocks back up, and one block back to where I started. In the middle of that last block, there’s an alley. And as we passed the alley on this particular day, a dun-colored dog ran out of the alleyway toward us.

We had seen this dog act aggressively toward us on a previous run, and we had simply turned around and run the other way. But this time, the dog was having none of that. He approached us aggressively, cutting off our opportunity to turn and go back the way we had come.

“Mommy! There’s that dog again!” Jessica called out (I was slightly ahead of her).

“Don’t look at it,” I instructed in a calm voice. “Just run smoothly, and look straight ahead.”

“Mommy!”

I turned and stopped. Jessica was standing frozen in fear, staring directly at the dog—who, fortunately, had stopped several yards from her. “Jessica,” I said, in the same ultra-calm voice, “keep running. Don’t look at the dog. I’ll protect you.”

Jessica tried to obey, but as she ran on and I moved in between her and the dog, the dog began to bark and advance toward us. Again, Jessica stopped and looked right at it.

“Jessica,” I said firmly but still calmly, “keep going. I will protect you. You have to keep going.”

For some reason, the dog let us go. It still barked after us, but it didn’t advance. Until we rounded the corner toward our house, that is. “Mommy, it’s following us!” Jessica cried out.

By this point, we were close enough to home that I could tell her, “Jessica, run up to the porch.” She obeyed, and the dog left off its loping pursuit and trotted away to find something else to do. We were safe.

In case you’re wondering, I reported the dog to Animal Control, and a few days later, they were able to find the dog loose again and pick it up. But that’s not the point of the story.

The point is this: what happened with me, Jessica, and the dog has important spiritual parallels, and it all comes back to the reason I told Jessica to keep going and not look at the dog.

Why did I do that?

You may be aware that when you encounter an aggressive dog, one of the worst things you can do is make eye contact with it and stare at it. Often, that only provokes the dog and makes things worse for you. So I told Jessica not to look at the dog so that the situation wouldn’t get worse.

And I told her to keep going because I needed to know exactly where she was so that I could more easily position myself between her and the dog, as well as because I needed her to get some distance from him.

I could protect her better if she did what I asked.

When we face attacks in this life, our natural, human inclination is to freeze in fear and focus on the terrible thing that happened (or is threatening to happen). But Jesus tells us to do exactly the opposite. He tells us to keep going and to focus on something else (God). All too often, we assume that He’s trying to minimize or invalidate our fear, or maybe just that He has a thing for being obeyed and doesn’t really care what’s happening to us.

The reality is that Jesus knows exactly how to help us deal with our distress, and that’s why He tells us not to focus on it. Focusing on it only makes things worse for us. He’s not telling us to deny it; He’s always all about truth and accuracy. He’s simply telling us that there’s something better to focus on—something that will help us out a whole lot more than making the attack the primary focal point of our attention.

That’s why He tells us to keep going—because He knows that if we don’t, we’ll stay stuck, and things will never get any better. Just as I wanted Jessica to run towards home, so He wants us to run toward our home—heaven—where all the fear and pain will be behind us.

As Jessica ran, she was still afraid. I knew she would be. I wasn’t suggesting that she not deal with her fear. I was telling her something she needed to do despite her fear. At first, she didn’t see how she could obey, and she remained frozen. But when she began to obey, then she saw that my instructions were, indeed, to her benefit.

Likewise, Jesus only tells us to do things that will help us, not hurt us. Oh, if only we believed that, we would be ready—eager, even—to do whatever He might ask.

But there’s one more thing we need to consider. And this is perhaps the most precious thing of all.

Remember where I was when I was telling Jessica to keep going, and not to look?

Between her and the dog.

Oh, precious mom, hear me. Better yet, hear the heart of God for you. When trials come—when you’re attacked—it may feel like Jesus has left you alone to deal with them. But He hasn’t.

He’s standing between you and the dog.

Keep going, mom. Fix your eyes on God, and keep going. Let Jesus stand between you and the dog, and head for home.

James 1:12—Blessed is the [mom] who perseveres under trial, because when [she] has stood the test, [she] will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him.

The True Nature of Our Struggle

Megan Breedlove January 5, 2015 0Comment

Imagine this: you’re sitting at your computer, scrolling through the latest posts on your timeline, when one of your children tracks you down. “Mommy,” she says, “Johnny says he doesn’t want to watch what I want to watch. But he got to choose what we watched last time. Tell him it’s my turn!”

You close your eyes and sigh. Not again! You try to push away the feelings of discouragement and frustration. You’re tired of struggling against them.

They are what you’re struggling against, right? What you’ve been struggling with for a long time?

Wrong.

Please don’t misunderstand: I know feelings of discouragement and frustration are very real. So are feelings of anger, loneliness, and sadness. We’ve all felt them. We’ve spent time, money, and energy on getting rid of them—and there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be free from these emotions.

But they are not what our struggle is truly against.

Sword and shield In the famous passage about putting on spiritual armor instead of merely physical armor, Scripture tells us that we are to don this spiritual armor because the devil is scheming against us. It then goes on to say, “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” (Eph. 6:12).

I’ve always liked this verse. But it wasn’t until recently that I realized just how it can apply to me as a mom. And when I realized it, it immediately began to make a huge difference.

My struggle isn’t against my children’s bickering, or the mounds of dirty laundry, or the necessity of teaching the same concepts over and over again. It’s not even against the frustration, discouragement, or irritation I may feel. It’s against the devil’s schemes against me, and the spiritual forces of evil at work in this world.

You see, negative emotions do not have to be our response to our circumstances. But Satan knows that if he can get us to respond that way, he’s got us beaten down. He schemes to do whatever is necessary to entice us to respond in a defeated, discouraged, or dejected manner (remember that he’s always looking for people to devour; see 1 Peter 5:8).

So when we are tempted to feel discouraged, annoyed, or angry, our struggle is not against that emotion. It’s ultimately against Satan himself, who’s trying to ruin us.

Check out the Ephesians passage again: “Our struggle is not against flesh and blood.” That means that our struggle really isn’t against people, including ourselves. Our struggle is a spiritual one.

Why is it so important for us to be aware of this? So we can respond differently. If we try merely to battle the emotions, we’re missing the bigger fight. And if we fight the same way we always have, we may be using the wrong weapons. Ephesians 6 tells us the right weapons to use, including prayer, faith, and salvation. Why? Because these are the only weapons that will work when we’re fighting a spiritual battle.

We need to arm ourselves differently. We need to fight differently.

Fortunately, we serve a God who has equipped us for the battle and shown us how to further equip ourselves. To Him be glory forever and ever.

Ephesians 6:12—For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. (NIV)

When You’re Tempted to Complain

Megan Breedlove July 7, 2014 0Comment

Sometimes, having a good attitude is hard.

At least, it was hard for Ellie on a day not long ago. Several things didn’t go her way, and as each one happened, she complained. I could understand how she felt (I’m often tempted to complain, too, when things don’t go as I would like), but I knew I needed to say something to her.

Of course, I thought later of better and more articulate ways I could have handled the situation. But what I said at the time was, “Ellie, you need to stop complaining. If you’re really having a bad day, you can come talk to me about it. But don’t just go around being negative.” (I got it sort of right.)

Fast forward to yesterday morning, when Ellie said to me, “Mom, the last few days haven’t been going right at all for me. Can we talk about them? You told me to come to you instead of just complaining.”

I was pleased that she was making the effort to properly handle the temptation to complain. Of course, I made time to talk to her and let her voice her concerns. We talked about what she could do about them, as well as things I could do that would be helpful to her. Instead of spreading a cloud of negativity over our home because of her feelings about the past few days, Ellie did the right thing and chose to bring her concerns to someone (me) who would listen to her and help her with them.

It’s the same thing you and I need to do when we’re tempted to complain. We need to bring our concerns to someone who loves us and will help us deal with them. And while it’s marvelous to have human friends, family, or clergy who will listen to us when we have a need, it’s even better to have God.

The only problem is, you and I don’t take advantage of His willingness to listen as often as we should (which is every time). Instead of taking our concerns to God and asking Him to help us deal with them, we too often resort to complaining— venting our frustrations into the air, to whomever happens to be listening.

Now please don’t misunderstand me: I’m not suggesting that we should never tell anyone what’s bothering us, or pretend like everything’s fine when it isn’t. Far from it. In fact, one reason God gives us friends and family, as well as a community of Christian believers, is so we can help bear one another’s burdens. But there’s a difference between the kind of complaining the Bible forbids, and talking out what’s bothering us, in the way God meant for us to do, with someone we trust.

It’s okay to talk about our concerns with someone when we need help dealing with what’s going on. When we’re stressed or overloaded (and every mom experiences this at times), we need someone to hear us and help us figure out how to handle it. That’s fine. What isn’t fine is when we complain, finding fault with the circumstances God has allowed into our lives, with no real goal in mind other than just spewing out our negativity and (we think) relieving some of our tension for now.

In the first case, even if we have another human being to walk through our troubles with us, we still need to take them before God and talk to Him about them. After all, He’s the One who can give us the best help. He allowed those circumstances into our lives and intends to walk through them with us and bring a particular kind of good out of them.

In the second case—when really, all we want to do is be negative—it’s far better to take our complaints to God than to vent them on other people. He alone can change our heart in regard to the circumstances He’s allowed and grant us His perspective. Not only that, but He can provide stress relief for us that’s far better than the small and temporary relief we get by spewing out negativity.

The next time you’re tempted to complain, think about it this way: Do you have some things going on in your life that you need help dealing with? Fine. Talk to God about them, and find a human being you love and trust to talk to. Or do you not really want help, but just want to complain about the unfairness of it all? Take that to God too. Ask Him to change your heart and perspective.

He can, and He will, in ways that mere complaining will never do.

Philippians 2:14—Do everything without complaining or arguing. (NIV)

Mama’s Comin’

Megan Breedlove January 14, 2013 8Comments

When I was single, and even when I was married with no children, going shopping and having it be a “treat” meant that I’d get to buy some nonessentials and go places I didn’t have to go.

After we began having children, a shopping “treat” meant getting to go to absolutely essential places, but all by myself.

Now that our first four children are older but that we have a baby, a “treat” is getting to go to essential places with only the older four, who can at least get into and out of the van by themselves and fasten their own seatbelts.

One particular day, I was enjoying the treat of doing errands with only the three girls. (Kenny was in school, and Timmy was at home with Phil.) As we were leaving our last errand to return home, I received a text from my husband that said simply this: “Timmy wants you.”

I knew what that meant. You see, I still nurse Timmy a few times a day, and apparently Timmy had woken up from a nap and decided that right now should be one of those times. One of the girls asked if we could stop somewhere on the way home, and I told her that we couldn’t because Timmy needed me.

As we neared home, I could imagine poor Timmy getting more and more upset, not understanding why Mama wasn’t coming.

“Mama’s comin’, Timmy,” I said out loud, wishing I could make Timmy hear my words and know how close at hand his rescue was.

Wow, I thought, I wonder if that’s how Jesus feels toward us?

There are times when we cry out for rescue and it doesn’t immediately come. So we continue to cry out, and part of our desperation comes from not understanding why God isn’t helping us right now and not knowing how long we have to wait?

But how much different would our waiting be if we realized Daddy’s comin’? Because He is. Oh, He is.

The disciples would have understood how we felt. Once they were crossing the Sea of Galilee in their boat, and a great storm came up. In fact, this storm was so violent that they were in danger of sinking. Then Matthew 14:25 says, “At about four o’clock in the morning, Jesus came toward them walking on the water.”

Did you catch that? Four o’clock in the morning. Not “right when the storm started” or even “a few minutes after the storm started”, but hours later.

I’m sure the disciples wondered where Jesus was. I’m sure they thought about how they really could have used an extra set of hands to bail water. But He doesn’t show up until they’ve been terrified for hours.

Likewise, Mary and Martha would have identified with us too. Their brother Lazarus was sick, so they sent for Jesus, knowing He could perform healing miracles. But Jesus didn’t come, and Lazarus died. Then Jesus shows up a few days later. Both of the women tell Him separately, “If you had been here, Lazarus wouldn’t have died.” Or, to paraphrase, “You could have come and You didn’t. Why didn’t You? This is Your fault.”

There are several more instances in the Bible where Jesus seems to show up late, but I won’t list them all. The point is this: even when it seems like He’s late, even when we wonder why He hasn’t showed up yet, we need to remember that He’s coming, and that He has a plan.

And, because Jesus is the exact representation of the Father, we know that this is true of God the Father, too.

For us, as His children, it’s not a matter of if Daddy’s coming, but when. We can be absolutely confident that He’s going to show up and make all things right at the point He knows is perfectly best.

Many times, He waits well past the point where we would think it “best”. Usually, we consider it best if He shows up right now. Sometimes, He does that. But we never have to wonder, as Timmy might have wondered, if someone’s going to come meet our needs. We know Someone’s coming.

True, some things might not be made right until heaven. God doesn’t promise that we’ll never suffer on this earth. But He does promise that we will never wait endlessly, only to have Him never show up at all.

He’s coming. In His timing, but He’s coming.

What are you facing right now, precious mom? Your Rescuer is on the way. You may not know how far off he is, but You know He’s on the way.

Rest assured that Daddy’s comin’.

1 Samuel 2:10—God’s enemies will be blasted out of the sky, crashed in a heap and burned. God will set things right all over the earth, he’ll give strength to his king, he’ll set his anointed on top of the world! (MSG)

What I Don’t Care About

Megan Breedlove December 17, 2012 0Comment

A small pair of pink and red rain boots lies in our entryway. They’re right there where someone would need to walk in order to reach the door or to enter our home from our front porch. I’ve told the owner of those boots at least 17,000 times not to leave them where people could trip over them. She forgot. Again.

And I don’t care.

There are toys scattered in the front yard that should have been put in their proper places. Seeing them, I wonder, What would a person think who saw my yard like this?

And I don’t care.

We had sandwiches and chips for lunch today. One of my children took too many chips. When that child asked to be excused, several chips remained on the plate. It was wasteful.

I don’t care.

I don’t care, because two days ago, a man walked into an elementary school in Connecticut and started shooting. Six adults and 20—twenty!—children lost their lives. They died because they went to school that day like they were supposed to.

This, I do care about. I care deeply and profoundly, in a way words can’t adequately describe. Even the tears I’ve shed aren’t sufficient to express the grief in my soul, which I feel not just because I’m a mother but because I’m a human being. The impact of this horrific event can’t be fully expressed, in words, tears, or any other way.

Something like this makes everything else fade into insignificance.

I do want my children to grow up to be self-disciplined. I want them to be good stewards of what God has given them. So maybe “I don’t care” isn’t the way to put it. Suffice it to say that on Friday, I realized that many of their actions that I used to get annoyed about were never the big deals I made them out to be.

Getting upset because I might have to repeat instructions to a child who innocently forgot? It’s not worth the disruption in my peace of mind or in my relationship with that child. It’s so not worth it.

The parents of the precious children who were killed two days ago would give anything to have their children back in their home, sitting at the table and taking too many chips. They’d give anything to have to step over a pair of rain boots that in reality aren’t ever going to be in the way again. The things I’m complaining about—having to clean up after my children, having to make another trip to the store—would be precious opportunities to these parents to hold and love their children a little longer.

What I must remember is that the only reason my children’s actions sometimes annoy me is that they are here and not in heaven with Jesus. Teaching a child to pick up rain boots is a small price to pay for having that child with me day in and day out.

If my child were to die tomorrow, my first thought would not be, “Boy, I’m glad I got so irritated about those boots, especially since time was so short and I didn’t know it.” And if that’s true—that these things wouldn’t matter at all then—do they really matter now?

That’s why I don’t care any more. The boots? I don’t care. The toys? Don’t care. The chips? Don’t care.

Yes, I will continue to try to teach my children to put their things away and take an appropriate amount of food. But being annoyed when they don’t? Not anymore. At least I hope not. I pray not. Because I want to spend every second with my precious kids appreciating them and loving on them—not complaining that they’re being children. I want the things that would matter then to matter now—the love and the hugs and the time together. The bedtime stories. The times we danced like crazy in the kitchen while listening to a CD.

Those things. Not the rain boots.

Never the rain boots.

Matthew 2:18—”A voice is heard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are no more.”

1 Corinthians 13:4-5—Love is patient, love is kind…It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.

A further word from Megan:

Sometimes, when we’re grieving, such as after the tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary, it’s hard to find the words to pray. Hard to know how to express the groanings of our hearts. I’ve been asked to offer a prayer on behalf of all of us moms who are grieving over this tragedy. It is certainly no better than any prayer you would offer. But if you need help putting words to your prayers, or if you would just like to join moms everywhere in pouring out your heart to the Lord after the tragedy at Sandy Hook, I offer the following prayer for you. For me. For all of us.

Oh, God, our hearts cry out to You. In our grief and confusion, we have nowhere else to turn. We climb into Your lap weeping for those precious children and their families, those adults and their families. We wrap our arms around You and cling as tightly as we can, for the storms of rage and grief, pain and confusion and disbelief, are too strong for us, and if we don’t cling to You, we are destroyed. And as we cling, Father God, we feel Your tears, and we know that You grieve too. Not for the children, because they’re with You now, and You know that “in Your presence” is a far better place than down here. You grieve for those left behind–for those parents who must struggle to rebuild lives forever shattered by bullets, for the emergency workers who had to stuff their grief deep inside so as to appear strong, for all those who lost someone precious that day, and for those of us who simply grieve at how evil sprang into the world through the doors of an elementary school. You hate what sin in this world has done to us.

We don’t know where to go from here. We don’t know how to move on. We’re lost. So we beg Your Holy Spirit to intercede for us with groans words cannot express (Rom. 8:26). We beg for comfort, especially for those parents, brothers and sisters, and husbands or other family members of those killed at Sandy Hook. And yet, asking for comfort seems like nowhere near enough. So we ask You to do abundantly beyond all we ask or imagine (Eph. 3:20-21). You are Jehovah-Rapha, the God Who Heals. Pour Your healing into each heart and mind affected by this tragedy. Minister Your peace and comfort to those who so desperately need it. Whatever else we should be praying for, but don’t know it, please do that too. Father God, we weep with You. And we are humbled and consoled that You weep with us.

Amen.