This morning, I woke to two small boys in my bed. One was laying across the other one, like a small, mouth-breathing version of a Jenga game. The husband was long gone to work, and I have to say, he’s a smart one to have escaped. The bed was capsizing under sleepy squirming, and at one point I think the cat got into the game. “Jenga!” he meowed with a vengeance as he found his way up on the mountain of children. “Jenga!!!! Now, get up and get me some kibbles, Tall Owner. I’m hungry!”
So. This morning I read in my devotional about drawing close to God. He’s here, you know. Like, all the time. Or so the bible tells me. And who am I to argue with the bible?
Me. Me. I am one to argue with the bible.
I totally have God ensconced up in an office in the sky somewhere. Somewhere pleasant, with soft droning phones and lots of great art work on the walls. And really great coffee. He answers the phone with brisk ease and saves the day.
Except, in my head, he can only answer one call at a time.
And then there’s such sadness and pain – drums of war are pounding all around us. Truly horrific images of martyred believers fill my eyes and fill me with more pain than I even know what to do with.
Why didn’t He answer that call? All those men, marched to the beach? Wasn’t that call, you know, a really important one?
I am questioning so many things lately. I am adrift in an ocean of rather angry questions.
I decided to be brave and ask my husband about all this. He is an engineer, and his brain works in ways I can’t understand, but for some reason he is able to explain God to me. He’s not able to explain anything else. Just God stuff.
I asked him this rather silly question. “How does God answer all our prayers? All of them? All coming in at once? Billions and billions? Doesn’t this seem rather… ludicrous? How can He HEAR it all? It must be a noisy mess.”
He answered thus: “We don’t understand Him at all. We can’t. But we know He’s good and He’s powerful. And He loves us more than we can ever know. And, as far as prayer goes? We can trust Him, with the wanting and the answers and what is right.”
Seems kinda loosey-goosey to me.
This from a man who wants to understand exactly how every gadget in our house operates and reads instruction manuals recreationally. He reads Popular Science for fun. And yet, he is all, “Trust and obey” on me?
So here I am.
I am watching two boys twist into the sheets of my bed (they both ended up here last night due to sickness and coughing, and oh I wish I could tell you we’re all better, but it’s a slow road) and I wondered at them. They were so perfect. All long lashes and soft hands. And a million prayers for them go floating up to God every day. How can He get to them? He’s really busy.
And how do I pray for this world when doing so just sort of… terrifies me?
So, here’s the kicker. I can just throw up my hands and not pray at all. Walk away. Quit. Give up on the supposition and sickening evidence from the television that all is lost.
Or, I can lean in and listen. Because I really do think, deep down, from my scared soul, that God is good. He is powerful. And he loves us more than we can ever know.
That small faith, paired with a good hot cup of coffee and some tangled groanings from psalms will keep me going today.
Just for today.