Me of Little Faith

...they do not toil, nor do they spin...

Two days ago, I got that feeling again... That frustrated, frazzled feeling that mumbles and grumbles in my heart against any trust that I am in the hands of Someone who cares about my needs, my desires... Someone who cares about me.  Worry: my greatest enemy's tool against me.  I worry about finding my next apartment (into which I probably don't need to move until September).  I worry about my husband's happiness in his workplace, in his home, in his heart.  I worry about my upcoming vacation to Ireland, whether it will be as wonderful as I've dreamed it to be for the last three years.  I even worry about whether I have proper shoes for the trip.  Why, Lord?!  Why does my heart worry so?!

Thankfully, I've had enough of these frustrated, frazzled feelings that mumble and grumble in my heart that I know well where to turn.  To Matthew 6.

Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are you not worth much more than they?  And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life?  And why are you worried about clothing?  Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these.  But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the furnace, will He not much more clothe you?  You of little faith!  Do not worry then... for your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things.  But seek first His kingdom and His righteousness, and all these things will be added unto you.  {Matthew 6:26-33}

How many times I have read these words -- have I had to read these words to bring me to a renewed trust in Him -- and here I was.  Two days ago.  Weeping.  Praying aloud to my Father whilst salty tears streaked my worry-stricken face and heart.  Thanking Him.  How faithful He has always been.  Remembering... That time we needed to get into an apartment downtown and couldn't afford it, and He opened the doors and provided $12,000 for us to live here that entire year that E didn't even have a job.  And how he provided E a job the very month our gift-rental-money was to entirely dissipate in the hands of the management.  And how He softened my heart to life in the hustle and bustle of the big city (when I finally broke down and prayed for that softening).  And how He provided a Jesus-centered, city-serving church full of people I could honestly desire to call brothers and sisters.  Indeed.  How faithful He has been.  How faithless I have been... but how faithful He has remained throughout my faithlessness!

Thank you, Father.  That's all I can say sometimes.  I'm sorry for those frustrated, frazzled feelings that mumble and grumble in my heart, but I'm thankful that you remain faithful anyway.