A friend asked me last week how do you have faith in God.
I responded with, "What do you mean?"
She says, "I mean, all the things you have been through, at what point do you think God hears us?"
I can go back to the day he answered my one particular prayer when I was in my teens. I prayed for Him to hear my cry hourly, daily, monthly, and yearly.
At that point, my foundation was set on knowing God hears me and knows my every thought (Psalms 139).
Now fast-forward to, let's say, 20 years—probably more—but who is really tracking my math?
I want to tell you three small stories, so I hope you can stay with me through them all… I will make them short.
We are walking through a "first" this season. Our firstborn is graduating from high school, so what does life after high school look like? So, the college process has started and ended, but in all of it, we went into with God being in charge of whatever happens. God is in charge. He can open doors or shut doors. God hears my momma cry to direct Whit's path. I don't care where he goes. I would love for him to get into his first choice, but if not, Lord, you have another plan.
And that is what happened!
Whit got his heart broken!
He was disappointed and did not get into his first choice, the Air Force Academy. We have talked about it a lot lately. Like last night, we were driving home from his High School soccer banquet, and he acknowledged that maybe God did not want him to be a pilot. I might have squealed and clapped my hands while driving home, not because of the pilot part but because Whit sees God in the process. I can't say that God does not want Whit to be a pilot, but I feel confident saying God does not want Whit to be at the Academy in Colorado.
He Heard My Cry!
Okay, here is my second story: Brinley, on the other hand, got to see God work in a big way in her life recently. I had parent guilt for about two weeks when I realized we could not help her pay for the mission trip to West Virginia this summer. The West Virginia mission trip is legit, too. They go and work and serve and love the kids and families. They do the work; they serve the poorest county in the state and the poorest state in the country (well, Louisiana is tied, I think). It woke me up at night just bummed and sad that we couldn't help her this year. So I finally broke the news to her in the car one day and said either you can fundraise or not go, and she responded instantly with, "How do I fundraise?" What do I need to do?
We also talked about how when you fundraise, you allow God to move and work in other people's hearts to give to you and be prayer warriors while you are there. So her comment was if God wants me to go on this, it will be very apparent by the funds we raise. Fast forward a couple of days, I am having lunch with my friend Carolyn, who leads a senior adult ladies class here at church, and we are catching up. I shared with her about Brinley, and at the end of the lunch, she invited Brinley to come and talk to her Sunday school class (yes, she still calls it Sunday School) on Sunday at 9 a.m. She told me she only gets 2 minutes. If you know Carolyn, she means it too, only 2 minutes. So, Sunday comes around. Brin is running late, and I am afraid of Carolyn a bit, too, so I tell her to go next week because if you're late now, you only have 30 seconds. Well, she went, and it was not too late. Brin spoke, and the ladies loved her. She said she did a great job.
I walk up to them as they walk out of the class. Francis, a sweet senior friend, walks up to me and says, "Christy, I need to tell you something! This week, I was looking at the bulletin and saw this West Virginia trip in there, and I asked the Lord for a student to support who might need help financially." She continues, "It would be fine if it were a boy, Lord, but we would love to support a girl!" As she was talking, I was tearing up and getting goosebumps because God was working the whole time. God used His senior adult ladies to support and encourage Brin so she could go on the mission trip. Isn't our Heavenly Father excellent how He worked in my heart to release my stressors of money, to Carolyn's generous offer to allow Brin to present the opportunity to the ladies (for only 2 minutes), and to Francis seeking a student to support?
He Heard My Cry
The last story I promised is about my sister, who called me while waiting outside a basketball gym between games for Creighton. She started quickly with the pleasantries of What are you doing? Then, she promptly exposed that she was going to cry and had been crying. Her exact words were, "I am a mess!" She was a mess in a good way, a way that was filled with sweet emotions and memories and a heart filled with gratitude. She was about to receive many high dollar items donated to her silent auction for her musical from a friend of our younger brothers who passed away. Trey is great, kind, and generous, and his generosity impacted her so much that she became a hot mess. But this is our struggle, and we don't want people to see us cry. I quickly reminded her that Trey would appreciate seeing your tears of gratitude and thanksgiving for his time and energy. We don't need to wipe our tears away. Tears are good. Tears show that we are human. Tears show we have a soul. My son told me last night as I was crying at his soccer banquet that this is not the season for tears.
Good Try son!
Tears are not always sad; you can have tears of joy, tears of pain, tears of (fill in the blank), right?
Ecclesiastes 3 affirms our cries and tears. "There is time for every event under the heaven – a time to week and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance."
To wrap up, recently, I read an interaction between Jesus and Philip in John 14. Philip asked Him to show them the Father, essentially saying what we all want—to see God. Jesus's answer was terrific: 'Don't you know me, Philip, even after I have been among you for such a long time?'
Jesus is like I have been here the whole time!!
I don't want to miss a moment with the Father.
He heard my cry of pain and suffering 35 years ago. He answered me when I prayed for many years that my father would leave the house. He heard my cry walking through disappointment and exhaustion with my son, and He heard my cry of jubilation and relief.
I share these three stories to encourage you that God does hear your cry. I know it to be true friend!
Also, no one wants to see pictures of people crying, so I share these because Ecclesiastes also says there is a time to laugh and dance with each other; I just happened to capture some with my sister.
