Sometimes God asks us if we still believe He’s good even when He doesn’t seem to be. He did it to Abraham when He told him to sacrifice his son. He did it to Joseph when He put him in an Egyptian jail cell. He did it to Paul when He gave him a thorn in the flesh. He’s done it to me.
Do you trust Me? He asks. No, really. If I don’t do this for you, do you still trust Me? Do you still believe that I’m good?
God asked me this question a couple weeks ago on our tour. He let me flounder through an answer for a few days, and then He gave me a picture to show me His heart.
It happened in Holland. Michigan, Holland. In the land of wooden shoes and terrifying Melon Heads. The land of kayaking at midnight. The land of long, sandy beaches and breathtaking autumn trees. And home to one of my favorite youth groups in the world.
I met them in Haiti. They’re the ones who thanked God for the heat. The ones who stayed up on the roof till midnight, worshiping and washing each others’ feet. (See This Post) I have seen in them the joy of the Spirit. I have heard from them the truth and love of Jesus. They have given me hope for the future of the Body of Christ. They have been a blessing. And this week, through one particular younger brother, God let me see a glimpse into His heart.
He did it through a young man named Trevor. God did something special in Trevor during his week in Haiti. I was in charge of his small group. I got to see it. Trevor described it something like this: “God took the narrow crack that was all I allowed of His love to reach me and ripped it open into a wide, raging river.”
And then Trevor came back to America. Back to school. Back to safety. Back to normal. He was afraid he’d forget the God he’d seen in Haiti. So, he took one of the lessons he’d learned there and started practicing it here. He started praying. Intentionally asking for God’s heart for his friends and then sharing with each friend whatever God said.
When I saw Trevor this week, I asked him what God was teaching him today. He told me about relationships he’d been intentionally building. The way he’s trying to carry a ray of Jesus’ light into the darkness of a world without Him. The cry of his heart to learn what it looks like to walk step-by-step in the presence of God throughout the day. He let me encourage him. He let me pray with him.
Trevor’s a tall guy. My head stops at his heart. Literally. When I prayed for him, I put my hand on his back, and he put his arm around my shoulder, and my head stopped at his chest. I could hear his heartbeat.
And that’s when God spoke. This is where I’ve got you, He said. Right here, right now. This is where you are. Right up next to My heart. It doesn’t matter if I think He’s failed me. It doesn’t matter if He’s not writing the story the way I wanted Him to write. Remember the question? What do you want more: your stories or My heart? He tells me I’m right up against His chest, listening to His heartbeat. And then He gives me a living, flesh and blood picture to show me what that means.
My prayer for Trevor, my prayer for you, my prayer for me is that we would get right up next to God. Rest our head against His chest and listen. Listen for His heartbeat.
Do you trust Me? He asks. No, really. If I don’t do this for you, do you still trust Me? Do you still believe that I’m good?
God asked me this question a couple weeks ago on our tour. He let me flounder through an answer for a few days, and then He gave me a picture to show me His heart.
It happened in Holland. Michigan, Holland. In the land of wooden shoes and terrifying Melon Heads. The land of kayaking at midnight. The land of long, sandy beaches and breathtaking autumn trees. And home to one of my favorite youth groups in the world.
I met them in Haiti. They’re the ones who thanked God for the heat. The ones who stayed up on the roof till midnight, worshiping and washing each others’ feet. (See This Post) I have seen in them the joy of the Spirit. I have heard from them the truth and love of Jesus. They have given me hope for the future of the Body of Christ. They have been a blessing. And this week, through one particular younger brother, God let me see a glimpse into His heart.
He did it through a young man named Trevor. God did something special in Trevor during his week in Haiti. I was in charge of his small group. I got to see it. Trevor described it something like this: “God took the narrow crack that was all I allowed of His love to reach me and ripped it open into a wide, raging river.”
And then Trevor came back to America. Back to school. Back to safety. Back to normal. He was afraid he’d forget the God he’d seen in Haiti. So, he took one of the lessons he’d learned there and started practicing it here. He started praying. Intentionally asking for God’s heart for his friends and then sharing with each friend whatever God said.
When I saw Trevor this week, I asked him what God was teaching him today. He told me about relationships he’d been intentionally building. The way he’s trying to carry a ray of Jesus’ light into the darkness of a world without Him. The cry of his heart to learn what it looks like to walk step-by-step in the presence of God throughout the day. He let me encourage him. He let me pray with him.
Trevor’s a tall guy. My head stops at his heart. Literally. When I prayed for him, I put my hand on his back, and he put his arm around my shoulder, and my head stopped at his chest. I could hear his heartbeat.
And that’s when God spoke. This is where I’ve got you, He said. Right here, right now. This is where you are. Right up next to My heart. It doesn’t matter if I think He’s failed me. It doesn’t matter if He’s not writing the story the way I wanted Him to write. Remember the question? What do you want more: your stories or My heart? He tells me I’m right up against His chest, listening to His heartbeat. And then He gives me a living, flesh and blood picture to show me what that means.
My prayer for Trevor, my prayer for you, my prayer for me is that we would get right up next to God. Rest our head against His chest and listen. Listen for His heartbeat.
(This is Lisa, me, Hunter, and Trevor on the day we left Michigan. It was 7:30 in the morning. We were allowed to be abnormal.)
