What keeps you awake at night? Lately, I’ve been losing sleep as I’ve worried about work. I worry about how to meet deadlines, respond to emails that could lead to soured relationships if not handled wisely, and more. I toss and turn on my bed, trying to work out various solutions in my mind. But the more I try to mentally solve the issues, the more sleep eludes. Eventually, I begin fretting about not getting enough rest to handle the challenges of the next day!
Soon after I came to the US as an international student, I realized that I couldn’t get along in the country without a car. So I relied on the generosity of friends to give me rides. In time I began praying to God, expressing my belief that He would provide when He knew I most needed a vehicle. Amazingly, on my birthday before my senior year of college, a family I knew gave me their used car as a gift!
The Ketchum Global Research Network asked 1,000 adults in the US (ages 25-54) what they think about most when they’re taking a shower. In order, here are their responses: (1) to-do lists, (2) problems/worries, (3) daydreams, and (4) work. The worries and distractions of day-to-day life can keep us from intimate conversations with our heavenly Father. Paul knew this and addressed it among the Philippians.
“When you hear the hard news, there are two diverging roads from which to choose. One’s despair—don’t go there. There is hope!” I wrote those lyrics as part of a song that shares what I’ve learned through a lengthy battle with cancer. Today I was talking with a thirty-year-old husband whose wife just found out she has breast cancer. As I strived to give him comfort and counsel, what I shared can be summed up in these words: Because of God, there is hope.
A friend and I once did an eight-day hike from Lindisfarne Island to Durham in north England. We went to learn about the godly men and women who had brought Christianity to the region—people like Aidan, Cuthbert, and Bede. I also took the pilgrimage because I was searching for direction.
The Laingsburg flood of 1981 was the worst of its kind in South African history. In two days nearly half a meter (almost 17 inches) of rain fell, 104 people died, and 184 houses were destroyed. The town of Laingsburg was built close to the “dry river bed” of the Buffalo River. What the town engineers failed to realize, however, is that this relatively small river floods its banks every 100 years or so. Although the local farmers were initially grateful for the rain, their relief soon turned to dread as a six-meter (almost twenty-foot) wall of water rushed through the town, carrying with it people, animals, houses, and belongings.
Trust. Scripture reveals that we can trust God in all things (Proverbs 3:5), but it can still be difficult at times. We tell ourselves, Trust! But we lack hope. We tell ourselves, God will deal with it! But then we falter and engage in worry.
Are we there yet?” This timeless question could either trigger a benevolent smile or produce a scowl on the face of a harassed and patience-worn parent. Like a small child, we want what we want, and we want it now. I can only imagine how Noah felt each time he peered hopefully out of the ark, only to see the dove he’d sent to find dry land returning to the vessel. Yet another seven days . . .
My husband’s job offer was a welcome answer to prayer, allowing him to spend more time with our family. It required a big move though—the third in 7 years. His work had previously taken us to the Middle East and South Africa, and now, with the prospect of returning to England, we felt cautiously excited. In the midst of all the logistics, important decisions, piles of paperwork that had to be completed, and the packing of all our belongings into shipping boxes, we also had an overwhelming sense of God’s “perfect peace.”
I attended a boarding school in Nigeria where the older students ruled over all of us younger students. Once, I misplaced a bowl that belonged to a rather cranky older student. Having been given the ultimatum to find and return the bowl by the next morning, I crawled into bed with a heart full of dread. I whispered a prayer asking God for help before dropping into a troubled sleep. Imagine my awe the next day when the bowl mysteriously showed up in the student’s drawer!
I’m a late convert to the Lord’s Prayer. Unlike others, I didn’t grow up reciting it regularly at church or school. Only recently have I discovered its power as a daily prayer. And when I get to the line “Give us today the food we need” (Matthew 6:11), three things strike me:
Move to a new home, or stay at the old address? This question filled my mind for several days as my husband and I discussed the possibilities. A handful of problems were obvious when we toured a prospective home. For instance, a pipe in the basement jutted up from the floor into the middle of a room. And there was an odd odor in the cellar. Still, there were new cupboards and beautiful windows that would let sunlight pour in.
When my sister left a high-paying government job after 14 years, many people were surprised. I believe God led her to the job (a long story), used it to train and equip her (another long story), and called her away from it (yet another lengthy tale). In fact, she had to leave her work with no new job in place. There wasn’t time to ponder, because she had loads of projects to finish and hand over. Yet, by God’s grace, she didn’t fret. She was fully convinced that God her Shepherd would provide for her (Psalm 23:1).
During the First World War, Oswald Chambers was walking past a woman’s house accompanied by his wife, Biddy. The woman was very sick, and Biddy asked, “I wonder what God is going to do?” Chambers replied, in essence, that he was more concerned about who God is versus what He would choose to do. Now these weren’t the words of a man indifferent to the suffering of another person. He merely spoke of his total reliance on the personality and character of God, rather than merely hoping for what He might do. Though concerned for the woman and her condition, the character of his Creator was enough for Chambers to rest in what would happen next.