With My Own Eyes
For this past year, I have been living and writing about everything that God has been doing in and around me in Burkina Faso, West Africa. All the while, God has been equally and actively working in a different realm - the life of my family - and it's been just as exciting to see and experience.
This past year, my dad's job moved him and my mom to Fort Wayne, Indiana. It was not an easy decision; in fact, my parents approached the whole process with extraordinary faith, seeking God's will first and foremost above their own preferences and conveniences. Their journey was so prayer-focuses an faith-filled that their final decision to move to Indiana had God's fingerprints all over it.
But that didn't make it easy. It was their first big move since their marriage. They had truly built a life for themselves in Little Rock, and then they picked up and left it all behind. Everything familiar. Everything they had committed to and invested in. They left my sister twelve hours away. But they hadn't left the path that they believe God had called them to.
I got to watch all this happen through Skype. For months while I was still in Africa, my family had been telling me about Ft. Wayne and showing me virtual tours of their new house and yard. But seeing it on screen is not nearly the same thing as being there in person.
For the past three weeks, I have felt the wood floor on my own bare feet, snuggled down on the floor next to that fireplace, cooked in that kitchen, and seen with my own eyes what a perfect little house the Lord has provided for my family.
I have met their new friends and seen with my own eyes how God has provided for them in their loneliness.
I have watched the sunrises and sunsets, which is so much better than receiving pictures, and now I know what my mom means when she says the sky is just bigger in Indiana.
I have sat together with mom on the back porch and watched the geese land on the lake, and I have sat together with dad in the backyard around a campfire at night, and I have seen with my own eyes how God has comforted my family with the glory of his constant creation during this time of transition.
I have visited their church, their bible studies, my dad's office, their favorite restaurants, and the maze of bike paths and walking trails across the city. In all this, I realize how much God has provided for my family in their new city by giving them good gifts.
And together we are constantly reminded that even this place is not our home, not our final destination. We look forward to heaven when we will finally be home.
I remember how much it meant to me when my family came to see me in Africa. They got to enter my world, and it made all the difference in the world to me. Now, I have gotten to enter their world, and what I walk away with is a stunning recognition of how much our wonderful God provides. You just can't quite feel that over Skype, and I'm not sure I saw it until I entered the house, walked the neighborhood, and shook the hands of new friends.
I am currently sitting on an airplane on my way to the first of eight cities over the next couple of months. I will be visiting, sharing, reporting, and doing all those wonderful things that furlough brings. But this morning, mom and I were bundled up in down coats and warm blankets, sitting on the back porch, holding hot cups of tea, and watching the sun rise in exploding, glowing colors. In that moment, I became so incredibly thankful for these last three weeks in Indiana with just my family because it has given me the chance to rest, be refreshed, and see just how faithful God is.
I realize that not everyone reading this feels the same way I do in this moment. Your family may be in absolute chaos, and you might be wondering if God is going to provide. You might even be afraid of what that might look like because it honestly doesn't always look like what we envisioned. In the questioning, I pray that you see how beautiful the sunrise still is every morning, and may that translate the faithfulness of God to your aching heart. Even in the stress and turmoil, may you pause a moment to notice how the geese skid their feet on the water before they gracefully land, and may you remember how God takes care of the birds and how much more he loves you.
I don't write this to make you question why God isn't taking providing for your family like he is for mine. I'm writing this so that you know that he does provide. Like he provides for the Africans, like he provides for my family, like he provides for the geese on the lake.
This past year, my dad's job moved him and my mom to Fort Wayne, Indiana. It was not an easy decision; in fact, my parents approached the whole process with extraordinary faith, seeking God's will first and foremost above their own preferences and conveniences. Their journey was so prayer-focuses an faith-filled that their final decision to move to Indiana had God's fingerprints all over it.
But that didn't make it easy. It was their first big move since their marriage. They had truly built a life for themselves in Little Rock, and then they picked up and left it all behind. Everything familiar. Everything they had committed to and invested in. They left my sister twelve hours away. But they hadn't left the path that they believe God had called them to.
I got to watch all this happen through Skype. For months while I was still in Africa, my family had been telling me about Ft. Wayne and showing me virtual tours of their new house and yard. But seeing it on screen is not nearly the same thing as being there in person.
For the past three weeks, I have felt the wood floor on my own bare feet, snuggled down on the floor next to that fireplace, cooked in that kitchen, and seen with my own eyes what a perfect little house the Lord has provided for my family.
I have met their new friends and seen with my own eyes how God has provided for them in their loneliness.
I have watched the sunrises and sunsets, which is so much better than receiving pictures, and now I know what my mom means when she says the sky is just bigger in Indiana.
I have sat together with mom on the back porch and watched the geese land on the lake, and I have sat together with dad in the backyard around a campfire at night, and I have seen with my own eyes how God has comforted my family with the glory of his constant creation during this time of transition.
I have visited their church, their bible studies, my dad's office, their favorite restaurants, and the maze of bike paths and walking trails across the city. In all this, I realize how much God has provided for my family in their new city by giving them good gifts.
And together we are constantly reminded that even this place is not our home, not our final destination. We look forward to heaven when we will finally be home.
I remember how much it meant to me when my family came to see me in Africa. They got to enter my world, and it made all the difference in the world to me. Now, I have gotten to enter their world, and what I walk away with is a stunning recognition of how much our wonderful God provides. You just can't quite feel that over Skype, and I'm not sure I saw it until I entered the house, walked the neighborhood, and shook the hands of new friends.
I am currently sitting on an airplane on my way to the first of eight cities over the next couple of months. I will be visiting, sharing, reporting, and doing all those wonderful things that furlough brings. But this morning, mom and I were bundled up in down coats and warm blankets, sitting on the back porch, holding hot cups of tea, and watching the sun rise in exploding, glowing colors. In that moment, I became so incredibly thankful for these last three weeks in Indiana with just my family because it has given me the chance to rest, be refreshed, and see just how faithful God is.
I realize that not everyone reading this feels the same way I do in this moment. Your family may be in absolute chaos, and you might be wondering if God is going to provide. You might even be afraid of what that might look like because it honestly doesn't always look like what we envisioned. In the questioning, I pray that you see how beautiful the sunrise still is every morning, and may that translate the faithfulness of God to your aching heart. Even in the stress and turmoil, may you pause a moment to notice how the geese skid their feet on the water before they gracefully land, and may you remember how God takes care of the birds and how much more he loves you.
I don't write this to make you question why God isn't taking providing for your family like he is for mine. I'm writing this so that you know that he does provide. Like he provides for the Africans, like he provides for my family, like he provides for the geese on the lake.
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