In Ways We Cannot See

More than 35 years ago, a deeply grieving young man sitting on an airplane began scratching out some words to describe the deep ache in his heart, the hope to which he was clinging, and contemplating what God had to say about his tragic personal loss.

Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old.  Behold, I am doing a new thing;  now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. Isaiah 43. 18 

Several years later, someone happened to read what musician Don Moen had jotted down.  In 1990, a song emerged from it, and God poured His Spirit through it.  A month ago, I heard that song for the first time since I was a young mom.  The truth in that song, the hope that it displays, almost slayed me. His lyrics had stuck with me all those years:   God will make a way where there seems to be no way. He works in ways we cannot see. He will make a way for me.  

Composing that song, Moen made God’s faithfulness to be known, not realizing what God would do with it. He just did what God laid before him to do that day.  And that song gave hope decades later to someone he didn’t even know.  And that was me.  God changes hearts.  And He starts with our own.

No one may ever notice what we are doing today.  Or be touched by it.  But God redeems every bit. He knows it all matters.  It matters a lot. Because in God's economy, there is no division between great and small. God has divinely appointed us for this place and time, and for this work that He has placed before us. 

I cannot know if either what I write or do today will last a few minutes, end up deleted, unread, forgotten or ignored.  Or maybe, just maybe, help someone to know Him more.  But I can trust God even in this situation that He is continually working, not just in this day but for eternity.

Sometimes being faithful is sitting in front of a blank laptop screen all morning. 

For the past couple of weeks, I have wrestled with some writing that I started a while ago.  I added some more to it and deleted large portions that didn’t fit.  And by lunchtime, the piece looked like a teenager’s bedroom with little passages scattered all over like discarded clothes.  But then I went for a run through the woods. All the trees waved their hallelujahs above me, and gradually I had more words than I knew what to do with.  Sometimes, we just need to give time and wiggle room to our work, allowing God to sing over us with His Almighty voice, and bringing His glue to it. Even in ways we cannot see.

We ask You, dear Father, that our tiny efforts -- be it composing a song, making a meal, or simply saying a kind word to a child -- will empower someone to make it through the day, or navigate a shadowy passage, or finally walk out of the darkness into Your light, strengthened with a strength that is not their own.  Because You bring something beautiful to our work that we cannot imagine in really hard places where there seems to be no way.  Sing over us, dear Father, a victory song.  Even when we cannot see or hear it yet, we can know that You are with us all the way through and spread Your goodness over it in ways we never realize. But we know that in whatever it may be, You, O God, bring Your glory to it.

So also good works are conspicuous and even those that are not cannot remain hidden.  1 Timothy 5. 25

The fruit of faithfulness has no expiration date.  And it becomes evident in the most unexpected ways.  May God resound through what He has placed before us today. Not just faithful to our work, but faithful to Him. And let God run with it.