Mortals make elaborate plans, but God has the last word. Humans are satisfied with whatever looks good; God probes for what is good. (Proverbs 16:1-2)
I think I want to know it all, to have even moments of liberty and spontaneity orchestrated perfectly on a calendar so that I am prepared to savor them and tell about them using the perfect words and imagery. Honestly, I hate surprises unless they are pretty things without an audience around to see me cry. I write stories in my mind of how I think things should go – the conversation with a stranger on a plane or the response to a simple “how may I pray for you?” that results in audacious miracles. In my heart’s journal, there is rarely pain and there is only slight inconvenience. Yes, even after all these years, I still smile at the thought of a life for everyone that more closely resembles a romantic comedy than it does a beautiful, meaningful, and most epic eternal story. But as I sit here, writing leadership articles for QARA about the power of disruption and the purpose of OUR purpose on this little blue ball, I am reminded that we are participants in a divine plan and not the authors of it. In Proverbs 16, God simply says, “Trust Me with this life – your life and the lives of others. I promise you, I’ve got this.” He sees beyond our planning and our doing to our longing, our yearning, our wanting – our fears, our secret conversations, our motives, our privilege, our prejudices. He has been, is now, and will be God with us. He knows more, knows intimately, and knows better.
Even when we think we want to know it all.
Eight years ago, I received news that I was not going to Honduras because of a political crisis in that country. I was heartbroken, angry, ready for God to step in and show Himself and make it all better. I prayed like crazy for things to change. I was sure they would. In fact, I refused to unpack my bags for weeks. I just knew my team and I were supposed to be there.
The first time I traveled to Honduras was 2015.
Had things changed in 2009, I wouldn’t have gone to Guatemala, wouldn’t have traveled to a small orphanage in a remote community outside of Xela. I wouldn’t have asked the question, “What do you need?” thinking they were most certainly content with the school supplies and Neosporin the team had brought, only to be shattered by the quiet response, “We have no milk for the children.”
Had I gone to Honduras that summer, I wouldn’t have been a participant in the slow miracles God had planned for Little House of Refuge and for the team of folks from the United States who needed to be taught what it means to love well. I wouldn’t be working for Orphan Outreach right now. I wouldn’t have witnessed countless lives wrecked and made whole again by the furious and tender work of redemption and restoration. I don’t believe I would have known such deep grief or felt such overwhelming joy. And I wouldn’t be writing about the power of disruption and the purpose of OUR purpose on this little blue ball.
Yes, I’m learning – still learning to trust. I am often still a reluctant participant, I still would much rather have the romantic comedy, and surprises are still an awkward thing. And yet even now, God is here, saying, “Trust Me with this life – your life and the lives of others. I promise you, I’ve got this.” He has proven time and time again that He is faithful, and that His storyline is far more priceless than any we could create.
Remember, we’re in this together, and I am for you. Let’s trust, love. Let’s trust.
Please let me know how I may be praying for you as you learn to trust God…