Lean not on my own understanding?
I wrote this a couple weeks ago, but it’s taken a bit to get
it posted. I tend to be the type
of person who likes to do projects, but I really love the satisfaction of
getting things done. I don’t like
to wait. I like to tear into
something and complete a task. I
know patience isn’t something I am blessed with. I know it is an area of weakness. On the other hand, I have an uncle who is a very skilled
woodworker. He is meticulous in
his work. His efforts are
painstaking. He refines his
projects over and over. He sands
and puts the finishing touches on his projects until they are as close to
perfect as he can get them. I wish
I had that patience and I’m awed by his handiwork and his meticulous attention
to detail.
About a week ago, I stopped in my tracks and reflected upon
the reality that Jesus was a carpenter.
How fitting that our Lord was a carpenter in the days He walked on this
earth. I often lose sight of that
aspect of His life. In fact, I rarely
if ever have paused and reflected upon that reality. I see God as my all powerful savior who has the ability to
move mountains. My God moves
mountains. What a dilemma. What do I do with that? I’ve wrestled with that reality over
the past 30 months. When you jump
in with both feet trusting a God who moves mountains, it stops making sense
when the mountains rarely seem to move. In fact, you look up to see another
mountain in your path and cry out to God “If you can move mountains, where are
You?”
When all you can see is a never ending climb up a mountain,
you rarely, if ever, stop to reflect that our Lord is a carpenter. He is a craftsman who has a vision and
a plan that our impatient hearts and minds fail to grasp. I rushed to bring my precious
Jaline home. I figured we could
fast forward the process of bringing His precious child home, regardless of
corruption and inefficiencies in the world of Haiti. I knew my God could handle everything; however, I failed to
realize that His plan was bigger. I didn’t know that my precious Jaline had an
amazing sister in the very same orphanage I was rushing to get her out of. I couldn’t grasp the fact that the plan was for us to adopt
two. I couldn’t get my head around
two. I wanted to trust, but only
as far as my mind could see and comprehend. I thought: We don’t have enough money. How will we provide? Where will everyone fit? Yet, His plan was bigger, he saw
further ahead. He had a vision
that I lacked. He saw beyond the
mountains that stared me in the face.
After we jumped out in faith again, I prayed “all right
Lord, we’re all in, You can bring them home now.” Yet, days, weeks, and months passed, and He whispered “Not
yet, they’re not ready.” I didn’t
hear that, all I heard was silence and my frustration grew. I argued, we’re ready, they’re ready,
let’s go Lord. I cried out, Lord,
I said Let’s GO! What are you
waiting for? You said trust, I
did, Let’s go.
Back and forth we went. “Not yet, there’s still work to be done.” No, we’re missing days, weeks, months, years
of their lives. Those are
experiences we will never share together.
We’ll never get them back.
This isn’t fair. They’re
ready. “Not yet, there’s still
work to be done.” If you can move
mountains, why can’t you move paperwork?
Why can’t you speed things up?
Why do ridiculous earthly things continue to get in the way? Why can’t You fix it?
I must admit, I’ve been angry with God. Fiercely angry. Bitter. Confused.
Disillusioned. Why? Why?
Why? My impatience and confusion with the endless months has been an incredible
challenge. My Father’s heart
and longing for my daughters has tested me in so many ways.
Well, after two and a half years, it looks like they’re
almost home and I am forced to pause and reflect deeply on the reality that my
Heavenly Father is a Carpenter. A
perfectionist. A wise parent that
sees ahead and protects their children, even when the children turn rebellious
and believe they know more. As our
kids grow older, I absolutely believe it was easier when they were younger. It’s easy making sure they don’t run in
to the street and chase after that ball.
Anybody can do that. It’s
easy to pick them up when they scrape their knee and make it all better. I remember a time, last Spring, when
Marie Line was stung by a bee. The
tears poured out and I picked her up, held her tight, put ice on it, and told
her it would be ok. I knew it she
would be fine, even when she was sobbing, scared, and confused. I knew she would be fine, even when she
didn’t understand. Daddy loves
being the hero and taking care of his precious children.
Yet, when they grow up, it’s so much harder. You can’t always be there, you hope and
pray that you’ve taught them well, you try to make sure they know how deeply
you love them, you pray that they will understand when you say no and try to help
them make the right choices. You pray,
worry, and hope that they will trust you when you’ve experienced pain, made
poor choices or mistakes and try to help them not to make their own
mistakes. Even when they believe
they know better. Even when they
believe you don’t know what you’re talking about. Even when they believe they think there’s a better way. You want them so badly to trust, yet
their human impatience and lack of understanding causes them to think you’re
wrong or don’t know what you’re doing.
Yet, you yourself are too short sighted to realize that you
do that in your own walk with God.
You think you know what the timing should be. You think He doesn’t care and has forgotten you. You wonder if you were wrong all along
to trust in your hero. You wonder
if He’s let you down. You try to
find your own answers even though you know deep down what the truth is, but you
just can’t seem to understand it or find it. You so quickly forget all the
amazing ways he proved himself to you in the past. You forget the days when Dad came home and you thought he
was Superman. You forget all the
amazing ways he invested in your life and taught you, guided you, and shaped
you into the person you are today.
You act like the Israelites who constantly rebelled from
God, had to be reminded over and over again of His faithfulness, despite all of
the amazing ways He proved his Love to them. You forget how he held your hand at the start of this
journey, like a protective parent.
He took you by the hand, and walked you into to that orphanage and
placed his precious Jaline before you and said this is the one. He opened the doors, He watched out for
you, He placed a burden upon the hearts of friends and acquaintances to give
when you couldn’t afford to adopt.
He opened the doors for your wife to visit Haiti, bond with Jaline’s
sister, and make sure you understood that there’s no way you could ever leave
precious Marie Line behind. He led
you to the perfect house for your expanded family. He opened door after door as a Father does for a child.
He watched over you every step of the way, but gradually he
stepped back. He still watched
with the same love, concern, and caring, but as he watched you grow, he stepped
back, knowing there were some things you would have to learn on your own, so
that you would be prepared for the future. He shuddered as you turned away. He hurt as you questioned him. He wept as you failed to
trust. Yet, he loves you all the
same, with the unconditional love of a Father who takes joy in His children and
melts when they come back and realize that they need to be patient and trusting
as they grow. He knows they will
be stronger from the trials, despite the pain of watching them battle through
them. I know my Heavenly Father is
a perfectionist. I know He is way
more patient than I. I know that
He is creating masterpieces in Jaline and Marie Line. I know his plans for our precious girls are amazing. I know it’s been a brutal heartwrenching
process. I know now that he’s been
shaping and refining the girls and our family for when they finally come. I know that there will be trials ahead,
but I know that it is in His hands.
I know I need to trust more, even when it doesn’t make any sense.
Proverbs 3:4 Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean
not on your own understanding…
