I believe

Friday, March 10, 2017

This past weekend found me in a familiar place with some familiar people and some all-too familiar chaos surrounding me. Every year for the past five years, I've gone to a conference for foster and adoptive mamas in Georgia. Every year for the past five years, some kind of 'big' emotional, potentially life-changing event surrounding our involvement with foster care or our adoptions has come up. This year, no different. I found myself in a rental car with a friend in the middle of Kentucky, fielding decisions about placements and our future. Fortunately for our sanity, one of those possibilities didn't pan out, so now we're just left with some processing to do in our family and some waiting to do until we get some answers.

I talked with another friend once we arrived, and she mentioned the same sort of thing happens to her. Every year seems like an Ebenezer of sorts. In my case, I literally take home a rock every year to commemorate. Each rock reminding me of whatever milestone we happened to be dealing with that particular year, and the mound of those rocks on my nightstand reminding me daily of God's faithfulness.

Usually I come home with a thousand ideas and thoughts, and my mind races with all the possibilities for our future. This particular year, even though there was still Big Things to learn and decide on and think about, I just found myself quiet and content. I spent hours on some rocks beside the lake. Thinking of basically nothing. Not processing, not begging for anything, not crying, just sitting and being present.

One thing I am more sure of than ever is that God is with me. He is faithful. He is on my side. He is going to carry this story - HIS story - to completion. Not just until it ends, but until it is complete. I don't know what that looks like right now. I do know that the parts we're living through currently don't look like what I imagine redemption to be, but I believe that God is going to work it out anyway. I have to.

I started this post a couple days ago, and in the middle of writing, I spent some time listening to a sermon from Jen Hatmaker (yes, she preaches too - as if all the other stuff she does isn't enough) that just wrecked me. I'm bawling in the Sonic drive-thru waiting on my Diet Coke, thinking about a couple huge messes of situations that our family is in the middle of, thinking about how I'd rather not have ever known that life could be this painful, thinking about every hard thing that we're doing. Jen's message to me that day - every bit of brokenness is an invitation for conversion. Conversion - changing from one method of belief to another.

THAT'S the truth of my life. All of this brokenness, every sharp edge of it - it cuts like a sword, but it's the point where I get to decide what this life is all about it. Do I stick with my old ways of thinking or doing or do I change to be more like Jesus? Do I give it to Him? Do I obey even when it seems crazy? Do I keep on even when I am rejected? Do I follow even when no one else gets it or likes it or supports it?

In the middle of these broken pieces of life, I get to decide if His presence is worth it.
I get to decide if I really trust in resurrection.
I get to decide whether or not I'm going to continue to lay down my life and give myself away even if I don't see where this is all going or if it's going to end well.
I get to decide if I truly believe.
I get to do the thing right in front of me - obedient with even the very small steps - because I believe He is faithful.
I believe redemption is coming.
I believe He's working this to completion.
I believe it's all worth it.
I believe He is with me.
I believe.
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