It’s early morning. My coffee sits in the window sill of my Dad’s office, which happens to be my favorite room in the whole house. No one else has woken up yet, and there’s a precious stillness around me. I turned on some soft instrumental music and the morning seems calm and quiet.
But it isn’t.
Sleep last night was no friend of mine. I tossed and turned. Question after question flying through my mind. Doubts creeping into my heart. Fears suffocating me. I came downstairs when I couldn’t lie there restless any longer. I needed to journal, to read my Bible. To write.
Feelings and thoughts are not quiet parts of me. When I feel, I feel thoroughly. There is nothing small or slight in my feelings. When I think, I cannot help but pour my thoughts out as I sort through them. Most often on paper, but not scarce are the times I sit in my Momma’s rocking chair and just spill everything into her ever-listening and patient ears.
But then there are times like last night, where I’m alone with those thoughts and feelings, with seemingly no where to take them for relief.
Then I remember.
A prayer and a faded index card…
Oh Lord… is how it often starts. A cry for Him to hear me, because I feel so alone. It’s always verbal. I cannot keep it in my head. I laid there last night, pouring my heart and mind out before my Father. It must’ve been an hour or two before I fell asleep, praying.
When I woke up this morning, I rolled over and saw the worn index card that has been taped to my mirror, my desk, and now my bed frame over the last two years. I know the words written in blue felt tip pen by heart, but there is something about reading each word again that brings a renewing effect. It’s as if I’d never read it before.
The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. “The LORD is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in Him.” The LORD is good to those who wait for Him, to the soul who seeks Him. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the LORD.Lamentations 3:22-26
I was at a conference this Wednesday, and had the opportunity to listen to Mrs. Mary Mohler speak to women on growing in gratitude. One of the things she said stuck with me last night and this morning. She said that when our thorns in the side begin to hurt, and our questions arise, doubts creep in, and the desire to complain grows, we must thank God for who He is. We must write down His character. Remind ourselves of it. Cling to it.
I looked at the faded index card, and I saw a reminder of who my Lord is. I asked for answers, for consolation to my doubts, questions, and fears. I didn’t necessarily find them, but He led me to find Him. He is answer enough. More than enough.
He loves me steadfastly.
He is always merciful.
He is faithful.
He is my portion.
He is my hope.
He is good.
He will save.
He says that it is good that I wait quietly, seeking Him. He will not leave me.
A certainty among uncertainties…
You see, I don’t like not having answers for my questions. I don’t like not having relief for my doubts. I don’t like not having a resolution for my fears. I want those things, those uncertainties, to be taken away from me. But alas, they remain. They don’t even lessen over time either, they simply increase.
He doesn’t promise to take away the uncertainty of my circumstances, but He does promise to be certain. And I’m learning, through many nights like last night, that the certainty of Him in the many uncertainties of life is enough. He is enough. I can trust Him to fulfill what He promised, that all things will work for good. That His way is perfect. His grace sufficient.
I don’t know who will read this, if anyone. But if you are reading it right now, and you are looking for answers and certainty, look to Him dear friend. Turn your eyes upon Jesus, and truly, the things of this world, even the questions and fears that rob you of sleep and stillness, will grow strangely dim. His face is full of glory and light. The darkness cannot hide it.
I closed my journal this morning, after writing out who God was and His promises. I prayed, and thanked Him for them. I thanked Him for Himself. Then I looked up at the quiet house, and still no one had awoken. The stillness remained. The soft music was playing. My coffee was not steaming anymore, but it was still there.
I looked out and saw the sunlight making it’s way into our yard from the woods behind. Clouds hung in the sky, and rain drizzled down. It was not clear out, no not at all. But He was clear. He was certain. His mercies were new, and His faithfulness great.
At last, the peace and quiet of the morning.