The Constancy

We recently spent some time with an adorable little muchkin, Micah.  At nearly two years of age, Micah charmed his three big boy cousins and had his Uncle Mike and Aunty Fee completely besotted.  We may or may not still be speaking Micahisms to this day.  We may or may not have bought him his favourite food just so we could hear him say the words ‘ro ro rolls’ (sausage rolls) more than a couple of times.  He provided expert quality control in the food department of our camping group by sampling each and everyone’s breakfast.  You just couldn’t say no to those big earnest eyes and charming smile.

Gosh the kid is cuuuuute.  And clever.  So very clever.  And did I mention how cute he is?  My youngest is now nine, so it was super fun to just be around such a great little one, to see him climb onto my giant man child’s lap and to see the world with his eyes for a few moments – with such awe and wonder.

Normally one associates toddlers with certain behaviours.

Frustrations when they can’t say what they long to say can lead to little or big meltdowns.  Paddies.  Agitations.  Not our Micah though.  Not that I’m biased or anything.  😉  Actually though, to be as truthful and as honest as Brene Brown would encourage us all to be…….just lately I reckon I’ve been behaving more like a troubled toddler than our darling Micah ever is.  Or was with us, anyways……

You see I’ve been impatient.  And demanding.  And frustrated.  And worried.

If I could have stamped my feet and slammed a few doors, then just maybe I would have.

I wouldn’t necessarily say I’ve been desperate.  ‘Desperate’ is a strong word.  I try to avoid Drama Queen status.  But, heck, maybe I have been.  Desperate that is.  Desperate to see God move in a certain way.  Longing for Him to act in a certain situation.  Craving to feel, to hear, to know something specific.

Maybe you’ve been in a similar situation before.  Maybe not.  Maybe I’m the only adult around who wants to stick out her bottom lip and sulk when I don’t see and hear God move in the big and mighty ways that I crave.  But maybe, I’m also pretty real and not too proud to share just how roller coaster ride-ish, this journey of faith can be.

In the midst of my very humanness and arms crossing and fed up-ness earlier this week I was mid-conversation with someone, when I was struck with this thought – obviously not from my own thoughts as I was too busy ‘woe is me-ing’,

He’s in the shout, and in the whisper.

He’s in the chaos and in the calm. 

He’s in the big and bold, the loud and the vibrant, and He’s also in the small and the meek, the quiet and the subdued.  

You see we’re often so busy looking for answers, for provision, for the WOW factor, for answers to our prayers and our hearts desires in the immediate and the instant.  And while this can and does happen, I’ve found that that’s not the norm.  No.  Nope.  Nah uh.  More often than not, while we’re looking for writing in the sky, God’s actually whispering in the quiet.  He’s sending encouragement through the smile of a knowing friend, the natural beauty all around us, the brilliance of a purple/pink and red painted night sky.  He’s sending us messages of reassurance, of His great love for us, of His great care for us in the pages of the bible.  He’s in the conversations we have with others who love Him, those that remind us of His presence with us.

We have this gift – this constancy of hope, always.  Our hope doesn’t change no matter how we feel, or how loud our stamps are, or how low our lips may droop, because our hope is in Him.  God.  Our Father.  He’s there. He’s near.  He’s constant.

We change.

But He doesn’t.

We move nearer and further from.

But He doesn’t.

This constancy of hope can give us the greatest of comforts, the biggest of encouragements and the resilience to carry on, through whatever we’re facing.

We waiver.

But He doesn’t.

He’s there.  He’s in the song of the birds, the glory of the stars, the giggle of a child and the care and concern of a friend. He’s always speaking to us – He just rarely shouts. Even when, especially when, we’re being particularly juvenile and demanding – He isn’t.

Just as well we can all have hope. And just as well I have an awesome role model in Micah.

 

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