I Believe

I finished reading chapter 8 of Ann Voskamp’s “1,000 Gifts” last week. I put down the highlighter, the pen, and gently closed the book. I stared at the cover for a few minutes, wondering. What do I do now? When that much truth is spoken, when your heart is gently pulled to conviction, what next? When you feel God put something on your heart that you know you need to address, how do you do that? I’ll admit that I’ve highlighted a lot of this book. A lot. Like almost whole entire pages, because the writing is brilliant, and full of grace and beauty. There are insanely good sentences sprinkled throughout, and I just love to watch them jump off the page as the highlighter moves across.

But this chapter? I think I’m the one who ended up highlighted. My biggest struggle, out there, in this book. How did she know? God, your timing is so. good. So good. All the worry, all the fear, it’s a sign that I don’t believe You. Forgive me. My heart is seared with this thought “I know you believe IN Me. But do you believe Me?”

I’ve long believed in God. If you were to ask me if I believed that God exists, created the world, sent His Son to save us -I would answer yes, with no hesitation. But if you were to ask me if I believed Him? When He says He will never leave or forsake me? When He promises that I can hand over our burdens and He will give  me rest? When He says that His plans for me are good?

I don’t know that I could answer yes to those. Not all the time. Not in the hard times, when everything seems like darkness and chaos. When things are good, it’s so much easier to “believe” it – but that’s not really true belief, is it? I want my heart to know, automatically, without a second thought, that all of God’s promises are not only true, but they are for ME. Do I find myself worthy to be given such a gift? Sometimes I don’t even find myself worthy of being told that I’m pretty – how can I accept these incredible gifts from God? Surely He means them for someone else. And so I continue to worry. And have fear. And feel anxious.

“I know you believe IN Me, but do you believe Me?”

I want to believe. Today, I’ll choose to. And tomorrow, I’ll probably have to choose to believe again. But it’s better than where I am.