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Into The Eye Of A Hurricane

As I write this my children are preparing to fly into a hurricane.  Literally and figuratively.

Literally - Hurricane Harvey.  

Figuratively - What the US State Department has warned to be, "the risk of traveling to certain parts of Mexico due to the activities of criminal organizations in those areas." 

My daughter, her husband, their 3 1/2 year old little girl Poppy, and 7 1/2 month old baby boy, Skipper, are, as I write this, on a weather delay at LAX waiting to fly to a Mexican airport and then travel, (now, with the delay, at night), to a small village where they will live for the next 3 months. 

I am, in a word.  Sick.

In a few more words, anxious, worried for their safety, and on the verge of a panic attack - I know what they look like, I've had one before.

I am also convicted.

Convicted that they are stepping out in faith, to go and serve others, trusting God to meet all their needs and protect them, while I stay here, in my very comfortable home, and worry.

Knowing how I was struggling with their decision to go, last week my daughter gave me David Platt's book, 'Radical.'  She said "To help you understand our thoughts about this."

The thing that really ticks me off is the further I get into this book, the more I do understand their thoughts, I understand that they want to step into the eye of a hurricane, with their children and allow God to care for them.  Ticked off because I'd rather cling to not understanding.  I don't want to understand or condone anything that puts my loved ones in danger.

In his book, 'Radical,' Platt recounts a story of a English Pastor, George Muller (1805 - 1898);

"(Muller) pastored a church in Bristol, England, for more than sixty years, but he was best known for the orphan ministry he began.  During his life he cared for more than ten thousand orphans.  Remarkably, and intentionally he never asked for money or other resources to provide for these orphans.  Instead he simply prayed and trusted God to provide."

Platt continues;

"When I read Muller's biography, I was shocked to learn why he started the orphanage.  His primary purpose was not to care for orphans.  Instead, he wrote in his journal:

'If, I a poor man, simply by prayer and faith, obtained without asking any individual, the means for establishing and carrying on an Orphan-House, there would be something which with the Lord's blessing might be instrumental in strengthening the faith of the children of God, besides being a testimony to the consciences of the unconverted, of the reality of the things of God.  This, then, was the primary reason for establishing the Orphan House…  The first and primary object of the work was (and still is:) that God might be magnified by the fact, that the orphans under my care are provided with all they need, only by prayer and faith without anyone being asked by me or any fellow-labourers whereby it may be seen, that God is faithful still, and hears prayer still.'"


Do I believe in God?

Yes, absolutely.

Do I believe He is all powerful?

Yes, without question. 

Do I believe he can keep my daughter and her family safe?  Build their faith, heal their emotional wounds, allow them time to rest and reassess their direction in life, serve others, all while they're in Mexico?

Wait.  I mean I know He can….  

Do I believe He loves them more than I do?  That he made each of them?  Knew them while He formed them in their mother's wombs?

Well ya, but… 

Father I believe, help my unbelief.

I do believe in God.  I do love Him, trust Him, believe He is the Creator of all things, believe he set the sun and moon on their courses.  I do.  I believe these things to my core, I am not having a crisis of faith, I'm having a crisis of trust.  Of letting go and feeling at peace about it.  It's my crisis, not God's.  He hasn't changed.  He hasn't moved.  His arm is not shortened.

When our daughter and her husband lost their second daughter, Goldie Bloom, who was born between Poppy and Skipper, who lived just 10 precious days, we turned to God and He carried us.  We weren't angry.  We didn't question Him.  The person I questioned was me.  My thoughts were rampant with self blame; Could I have done something, shouldn't I have seen the signs at the end of her pregnancy.  These thoughts tormented me for weeks.  Twisted my stomach with grief and regret, kept me from eating, caused me to sleep 18 - 19 hours a day just to escape my own recriminations.

And then one day I woke up a realized these accusations weren't coming from the Lord.  And I started telling myself what He tells me, that He loves me, died to reconcile me to Himself.  That He is in control, He decides when we're born and when we die.  I don't know the days numbered for me or anyone else.  Goldie's days were 10.  That was when I learned the importance of speaking to my heart and mind what God has told me to be true, not letting them speak to me

Left to my own devises I can fill my own head with all sorts of recriminations and in the case of Mexico, worst case scenarios.  Is it responsible to take off to Mexico in the midst of a drug war?  Probably not.  Is it radical?  Most certainly.  Does God know where they are?  Of course He does.  Am I okay with that?  I'm trying to be.  But what I am choosing to speak to my worried Mumma's heart and mind is not what I feel, but what I know to be true; 


"'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.'"

Jeremiah 29:11


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