LC is currently asleep, I'm all storied out for the moment on the book I'm writing, and so it seemed like the perfect opportunity for some solitary and glorious me-time. Since her blow up pool is in our backyard and the sun is out, I grabbed my Nook and some sunscreen, then disappeared into the backyard.
Laying in the cool water, it didn't long before the words on the page I was reading started to blur together and I sat my book down, loving the opportunity to just breathe and be. Forget the laundry. Screw the dishes in the sink. Sometimes it just feels good to not do what you feel obligated to do...
As I was laying there, skin baking and wiggling my toes in the water, I felt my body start to relax and then, shortly after, I felt my mind and spirit relax, too. Sometimes the most amazing thing in the world to me is to just lay down somewhere and try to think of nothing. That is a lot harder than it sounds because my mind has an engine programmed to stay stuck in overdrive somehow.
As I was quietly floating, my head propped on the side of the pool like a pillow, arms over my head, I found myself thinking, Lord, I haven't thanked you for the good in my life today...I bring you my burdens but I'm so sorry I forget to bring You my praise. I'm such a selfish child of yours...I don't know why you love me so much, I confess.
Just yesterday, I took a huge worry to Him and laid it at His feet, begging for His sovereignty. I found myself praying that familiar old prayer, "Lord, let my faith arise, help me in my unbelief..." Repeatedly, over the last several weeks I have laid this specific burden for someone I love at His feet and taken it back, laid it down again and circled back to pick it up. You'd think with all the good He has done for our family, I would be able to trust Him more easily than I do. Or be confident that He can handle those burdens I set down at His feet.
Today, as I had my eyes closed, floating and praying and thanking, I was listening to the rustle of the leaves in the trees and sounds of birds around me. Soon, I heard the far off sound of a prop airplane and, as it came closer and closer, I opened one eye and squinted through my sunglasses at the blue sky. I kept looking and looking but even though I heard the sound coming closer, I couldn't seem to find it with my eyes. There were a few clouds above and my eyes bounced from cloud to cloud, seeing if the airplane might be hidden behind one of those and I might catch a glimpse. I was sure, because it sounded so close, if I looked hard enough I'd eventually be able to see it with my eyes.
Just from the sounds, I could tell that the plane had gotten closer, flown over head, and then continued on its journey until I no longer could hear the hum of the engine. The birds, who had stopped to listen, resumed their conversations and I closed my eyes again.
Instead of nothing thoughts my brain did what it does and it occurred to me that even though I never once saw the plane with my eyes, I knew what it was. It was in the sky like a plane. It sounded like a plane. But how, if I didn't see it with my own eyes, was I sure it was a plane? And why did I so desperately want to be able to see it with my eyes when I was already sure of what it was?
And the second I had that thought, the verse in Hebrews 11:1 popped into my mind that talks about how faith is "the evidence of things unseen..."
The whole verse goes like this:
The whole verse goes like this:
Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and evidence about what we do not see...
It's funny, even though I may be physically unable to see the plane, it never once occurred to me to doubt its existence. I just like having the visual confirmation of what I already know.
The same, I find, often applies to my Faith. I'm so guilty of wanting to "see". I am admittedly more comfortable with what I can see with my eyes and touch with my fingertips - and this makes my relationship with Christ such an ongoing, daily discipline for me. On the days I doubt or the days when He seems far, I choose to believe I know He's there because the evidence in my life tells me so.
Can I physically see Him with my own eyes? No, I can't. But do I see evidence of Him in my life? I do. Every single day I do.
I confess, I have far too many moments when I doubt the sovereignty of God in my life or I question His timing but I should know by now I don't need to see Him to know He's there.