God and I have been at a standoff for a while. I think He should take care of a thing or two. He thinks He is.
I learned a long time ago that being fake in my faith does no one any good. When I’m mad, God knows it. And I know He can handle it. But sometimes, it’s what He knows, that I don’t, that gets us in trouble.
Me: “I”m trusting you with this. Don’t let me down.”
God: “No, you’re really not.”
That just made me mad, because I really thought I was. So obviously things got more tense.
But then, a while back, I stumbled across a blog post by The Domestic Fringe. It started the ball rolling. Since then, God’s been teaching me a thing or two about the size of my faith.
Since we finished law school in May, things had been pretty bleak around here. It was a string of coming in second for perfect jobs, and a lot of thinking we’d finally found the plan, just to have the rug ripped out from under us again. The final blow had us looking at no where to live, and facing the real possibility of having to move into my high school bedroom in just weeks.
But, that it didn’t happen. We’re still in the apartment that has been our home for 3+ years. We’re making ends meet, just barely.
When I got a call from the last job that I thought was going to save the day, and they told me they had filled the position but would like to offer me a contract position — no duration guarantees, no benefits — I cried. I ranted to God. Why? They wanted me to do this job! Why one more piece of bad news? Why the same day I found out we NEEDED medical benefits?
In my mind, God providing for us means having enough to not worry. That’s what I’ve known. To me, that is the definition of enough.
What I’m beginning to realize is that I want just enough to not have to have faith.
This morning I read this: “I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to the mountain, “Move from here to there” and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.” – Matthew 17:20. I’m pretty sure that my faith is so tiny it’s almost non-existent.
When we were going to lose our home, we didn’t.
When we didn’t have enough money to pay bills, it showed up.
When we desperately needed income, I got a job. My husband signed his first client.
But it wasn’t enough for me. I wanted just enough that I didn’t need to keep trusting God for everything. I wanted enough that I could just trust in us. He must have sent me 100 messages, but none of them stuck. Until this mornings. Something about it resonated.
It doesn’t matter how much I have on this earth. He could take it all back in a moment. I find my security in the exact opposite place than I should, even when I know better. I think I have a strong faith, but my heart often says different. It says it’s not even the size of a mustard seed.