Waves and Sand

God is legitimately a genius. Getting to know him is an adventure. He is so much more than words on a page of a book written thousands of years ago. Yesterday added to the mountain of evidence that he is personally very involved in my life.

Monday morning, I sat in the corner of my new favorite little Greenville hang out. They serve gluten-free breakfast sandwiches there, which, of course, melts my heart. I sipped on a mug of hot apple cider and reflected on everything that happened the day before. In so many ways, I still don’t believe God is everything he says he is. I asked myself the very difficult question:

Do I really believe in your salvation? If I can’t believe you are all the other things you say you are, how can I believe the most important one of all?

Lord, help my unbelief.

This is an excerpt from my journal entry yesterday:

I am awash with [unbelief]. Its waves continually crash over the shores of my mind, eroding the truth of the coastline: the truth that your good thoughts about me outnumber the grans of sand on that very beach.

But you commanded the sea where to go. You separated the waters with a single word. You delivered your children Israel through the sea…through their own doubt. You showed them your faithfulness in all you did. You brought them to dry land. You have set my feet upon your rock and made my footsteps firm. You said to the waves “be still”…you say to me, “be still and know that I am God.”

You are God. Your thoughts, all those grains of sand, are so much greater than my own. Your truth is resilient. Your word is power. My unbelief crumbles at your word. My unbelief is held back at your word. My unbelief is no longer my unbelief. It simply is a thing you have authority over. And if you gave me that same authority, being the living God who lives inside of me, I can say to the waves of unbelief, “Be still and know that He is God.”

This was my morning.

I left the town of Greenville at 5:30pm and by 6:30 my van decided it had made its last trip. I found myself on the side of the road, idiot lights glaring at my face. Shaken up and overwhelmed with fear, I sat. After talking with my mom and my step-dad, I lurched The Bus to the nearest gas station where they said they would come pick me up. For the next two hours I had some decisions to make. Would I wallow in fear, afraid of how my empty bank account wouldn’t offer a solution? Or would I remember what the Lord told me in the morning: say to unbelief, “Be still. Know that He is God.”

Somehow, with the help of some super encouraging friends, I clung to the latter.

One day later, I still don’t know what’s going to happen. Along with the responsibility of finding a job and place to live in Greenville, I now have to figure out a reliable transportation situation. But the point is this: God knew this would happen. I know what he’s called me to and I know that he is my provider. Somehow, despite all the circumstances around me, despite the waves of unbelief crashing over the shores of God’s truth, I have to stand on that shore and say to those waves, be still. The tide will go out and I’ll build a sand castle.

He’s a good father: good to prepare me for what was going to happen yesterday, good to walk through this time with me, and good to take care of what I need. This is my shore. This is his truth.

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