In His Hands

(Written in November 2023)

“But I trust in you, Lord; I say, ‘You are my God. My times are in your hands’” (Psalm 31:15a).

I’m no stranger to long waiting processes. Long ago, I had no greater dream than to marry and have kids. I never imagined a life where I would not be married and a mother by the age of 25. As the years after graduation went by, I filled my time with travel, Bible school, and eventually university, looking at all of these things as nice things to do until I got married and my “real life” would begin. But God wasn’t working on my timeline.

The years stretched on, and the desire for marriage began to feel like a burden, as relationship after relationship (both hoped-for and real) fell through. I saw hope deferred making my heart sick (see Proverbs 13:12), and my once-happy desire caused me more pain than joy. Yet in the midst of it, I had to keep choosing to trust God and say, “My times are in your hands,” over and over. Somewhere along the way, I began to truly appreciate the value of all the “detours” God was taking me on. I didn’t get what I dreamed of right away, but it turned out that what God had for me was greater than what I had imagined for myself and included travel, two degrees, a career I was truly passionate about, and a language that now allows me to communicate with my parents-in-law. It was not time wasted, nor was I wrong to desire marriage—but I needed to wait until God’s perfect time and begin to learn that whether or not my dream was ever realized, I could live a life of purpose and see God’s abundant goodness and growth. Then, at just the right time, there came the moment that changed everything, as I knocked on a door that was opened by a smiling engineer and entered a whirlwind of dreams fulfilled and miraculous healing of my heart.

After the long wait for marriage, I was foolish enough to think that my other dreams—good jobs for my husband and me, a house in a city near my family, probably a dog, and then kids—would just fall into place. They did not. The whole of our marriage so far has been characterized by choosing to trust God in the midst of uncertainty. We had our first child without knowing where we would raise her, and now we are far from my family and still waiting on our dreams of good long-term work and a house. It’s not easy, and at times, I’ll confess that it pains my heart when I see people raising families in physical proximity with their own parents and siblings. But our times are in God’s hands.

More recently, I had an early miscarriage. I’ve been grieving, mourning the pregnancy that will never unfold; the kicks I will never feel; the tiny, innocent person that I will not get to hold and comfort, nourish, and sing to on this earth. And I’ve also been grieving my perfect timeline once again. I always wanted to have kids fairly close together, but when our first child turned one, I was struggling with anxiety and grief after moving so far, and I knew that if I wanted to be a good mother to two children, I needed to give myself time to let God heal my heart. So we delayed. Finally, we really began trying, only to lose a precious babe the same day I found out I was pregnant. Now, our eldest is two, and once again, I am forced to surrender my ideal timeline and accept the knowledge that I cannot control this process.

Once again, I must acknowledge that my times are in God’s hands and that his time and his way are better than mine. If that includes not knowing where we’ll land or having to move when I’d rather be settled, it will be for the best. If it means letting go of more hopes and dreams, it will be worth it; they will be in good hands, and if it is right, in due time they will be fulfilled more gloriously than I would have imagined.

Surely the God who designed the intricacies of the universe, from the endless vastness of the cosmos to the infinitesimal details the of the cell, and the perfection of their infinitely complex workings—surely this all-knowing, attentive and careful God also cares about me, and about the precious baby I lost. His thoughts are higher than my thoughts. Surely he sees the big picture when I see only the pain, and surely he will use my suffering to bring about softness and growth and to sustain me in ways that perhaps I could not have experienced otherwise (see Isaiah 55:8-13).

When we moved East, I was broken and hurting. I didn’t understand how/why God had let it happen when I had been standing in faith for mountains to be moved since the beginning of my husband’s and my relationship and believing for his provision of good work for my husband in a place where I would be happy to live. In truth, I was entitled and resentful, feeling that I had done everything right in trusting, but God had let me down. Now, as I find myself grieving again, I’ve found refuge, comfort, and even hope in the arms of Jesus. In leaning into him when the waves of sorrow wash over me and I’m confronted with my lack of control, I’ve somehow, miraculously, found hope, not in the results I so deeply want to see, but rather in the knowledge that no matter what this road will bring, I am in his hands. He is acquainted with my sorrows (see Isaiah 53:1), and I will not be alone (see Isaiah 41:10). His grace is sufficient for me, and his power is made perfect in weak and imperfect people like me (see 2 Corinthians 12:9). And His promise is that all these things will work together for his glory and my good in the end (see Romans 8:28). My times are in his good, good hands.

In the moments when I can rest in knowing those things, I don’t need to understand. It’s okay for me to hurt and grieve. We were never promised—or owed—pain-free lives. God is well able to do miracles in our lives, and I have seen them in mine, but he doesn’t owe it to us to do miracles or provide explanations. Pain and sorrow are, unfortunately, part of the fallen world we live in, and it’s what we do with those difficult emotions that matters. God desires to hold and comfort us in times of pain (see 2 Corinthians 1:3-5) and he promises to work all things for good for those who love him and are called according to his purpose. When we moved, I let the grief push me into resentment toward God, and I suffered because of it. Now, I am choosing to run into Jesus’ arms, bringing my pain, grief, and confusion before him and releasing them to him as I find refuge his presence. When I come before Jesus in sorrow and surrender, I find peace that surpasses understanding (see Philippians 4:6-7), healing, and hope that supersedes my situation because I know that it will all be used for good, even if things don’t unfold the way I thought they should.

The God who knew all that would happen, including our mistakes, has already fashioned a plan that will artfully weave the raw strands of our pain, regrets, and confusion into a masterpiece that highlights his goodness. He already took it all into account. So I will surrender my sorrows and pains to a good God as a costly offering, knowing that my times are in his good and capable hands.

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In the greatest God surprise of 2023, I found out in December, not two months after my pregnancy loss, that I was pregnant again. It has been a journey to carry one little life while still grieving another, but I am so, so grateful for the poignant reminder that God turns sorrow into joy and that he sees the desires of our hearts and brings everything in his time. We are excited to welcome our surprise blessing in August.

Faith that Transcends Understanding

When I was young and first coming into my adult life, I had what felt to me like radical, dramatic faith for my life. I still remember the thrill of testing the waters of early adulthood. Zeal practically vibrated through my being. I believed believe for difficult, even impossible, things with a fierce, desperate tenacity, standing in faith for financial provision to get through Bible school; a car when I had no money to buy one (and no way to get home without it); that I would receive favour from unexpected places; that God would put me on the right path. And he did come through in all of those things! He gave me all the provision I needed to finish two years of Bible school without debt. He moved someone’s heart to gift me a good car when mine died, leaving me stranded two provinces away from home. He placed me in an unexpected job and through the generosity of my employers/friends, astounded me with full scholarships through both of my university degrees! And he guided my steps faithfully throughout it all, even when I was unsure and doubtful, leading me to an education and a career that I hadn’t always planned for but were so exactly what I needed. In those days, I had fervent faith for the impossible, in part because I had not yet been burned by a “big” need or desire that I stood for in faith that seemed to go unmet.

One of my first tastes of a need that was for a time seemingly unmet was with the car I was given. After spending most of my income for months to fix it up, somebody crashed into the car the day after I finally got it all done, and it felt like the blessing was robbed. That was when I learned about a different kind of faith.

It was the first time I looked at a blessing/promise from God and chose to believe that he was still good even if I lost it. I had to choose a faith without understanding, a faith that didn’t depend on getting what I wanted, a faith that could acknowledge that if I lost the car now, God would still have had a purpose and a blessing in it. I didn’t end up losing the car, but it was the first time I realized that the biggest victory I could have was to praise God and trust him whether or not I got the result I wanted.

That kind of faith is much harder to walk out. It’s born of the Abraham moments, of receiving a promise, only to be asked to give it back in complete surrender, seemingly forever, with God swooping in at the very last moment to rescue it; the Lazarus moments, when the thing we’ve hoped for does die but is miraculously resurrected to new life; and, perhaps the most challenging, the Joseph moments, of having a powerful dream yet finding ourselves in dark circumstances that, maybe for years, seem to be the furthest thing possible from its fulfillment.

In all of these cases, greater faith is required than simply believing for the miracle we want. In each one, faith has to go deeper as we walk through the pain and doubt and grief of the unexpected, choosing over and over again to trust that the One who promised is still faithful (Hebrews 10:23), whether or not we ever see the future we hoped for. In the cases of Abraham, Lazarus’ sisters, and Joseph, I believe that God needed to shape their hearts before they could truly experience the fullness of the promise he had for them. Sometimes it takes seasons of surrender and even loss to break down of our selfish aims and small-minded thinking and to free us to take hold of the much greater vision God has for us.

It is uncomfortable, painful, and so very difficult to reach that place, but there is freedom and exuberance that come when we throw ourselves wholly into the Father’s arms, trusting that he is bigger than our circumstances and greater than our vision, and his plans for us are better than the ones we have for ourselves. Liberated of our own limited thinking, we are free to embrace the whole of what God has for us, which is exceedingly, abundantly above all we ask or think (Ephesians 3:20). As children of God, we should expect the miraculous, but we also need to be willing to let go of our desire to make it happen when and how we think it should.

Joseph must have had to let go of his dream completely as he found himself kidnapped and sold as a slave in another land, separated from his family and in the furthest place from the position of power he had dreamed of. Yet God used that time to broaden his vision, over the course of years giving him increasing power and influence that he never could have had in his homeland and using him to save a nation that wasn’t even his own. Finally, the day came that, far from the time or place that he must have imagined, his dreams did come to pass, and his family bowed before him, but more importantly, he was able to use his power and influence to save them and, through this, to preserve the future of God’s chosen people.

Jesus said, “The thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly” (John 10:10). He also said, “In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). In him—in surrendering our own plans and choosing to abide in Jesus and his love—we have the promises that we will live fruitful lives (John 15:4-8) and that all things will work together for our good (Romans 8:28). But these promises require us to let go of our need to control and understand the plans of God and trust that his goodness supersedes our limited vision in the moments when our dreams seem to die.

When we choose to believe that God is still good, still loves us, and still has good plans for us, regardless of whether he comes through in the way we want or expect, we are building an unshakeable and surrendered faith that goes so much deeper than simply clinging to the expectation of the exact thing we want or need.

A Call to Honour

“Let all that you do be done in love.” ~1 Corinthians 16:14

2020 has been a turbulent year.

We’ve had to navigate a global pandemic. We’ve entered (or been invited to enter) conversations about systemic racism, human trafficking, and other significant issues. At the beginning, I naively thought these things might become unifying factors in a world that to me feels increasingly divided, but if anything, the division (or maybe just my awareness of it) grew sharper. In fact, I would be willing to venture that at least one thing I mentioned at the beginning of this paragraph may have rankled you.

My God Speaks

The last while has been a bit of a wild ride. 

Some things have been going really well.

“Not my circus” : How taking a step back can help us rise above failure, guilt, and stress

Many of us have seen the phrase “Not my circus, not my monkeys.” According to the ol’ interwebz, the saying is from a Polish proverb and basically means “not my problem,” and people use it in situations where they have no control or responsibility. 

Hope in the Trenches

It’s 2018. Another new year has begun. I need to be honest; in the midst of celebration and fresh starts, the New Year is sometimes a time when I battle discouragement. 2017 was a great year. I did a lot of amazing things and actively pursued growth in multiple areas. Although I had varying degrees of success, there was progress. The past year has seen many exciting installments in the greatest adventure of my life to date.

Nevertheless, it was a hard year,

No Longer a Slave to Fear

Retrieved from iStockphoto.com

It occurred to me this week what a miracle it is to be where I am today.

The Value of “Failed” Goals

I could have had it!

I think at some point, we all have to go through the experience of failing to achieve a goal we know was within our grasp. 

“Homeless”

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the concept of home. After going through a year that has included leaving my city of six years, doing a lot of travelling, living in a city that’s wildly different from anywhere I’ve been, and visiting home without having a place of my own, home has felt like a rather transient and elusive idea. 

Not That Brave

Hi friends! I want to clarify something from my last post. Over time, I’ve had quite a number of people tell me I’m brave for travelling alone. It always seems a bit strange to me when they do, because I don’t feel particularly brave.