grace given me

I can’t believe we are already here—the wrapping up of summer. I am incredibly grateful for the summer we have had: the travel, backyard parties, Padres baseball, warm weather, but most especially, having both kids home.

I couldn’t help thinking that this could possibly be the last time they would both be home for an entire summer. So I savored it, said “yes” to just about everything, and gave thanks to God for the precious time together as a family. The last four years have encompassed a lot of change for us as a unit, and this summer felt restoring and recharging, almost as though God gave us a perfect pause before sending each of us into the next phase.

My daughter will be starting her senior year of college, and my newly graduated son will be starting his first job. She recently changed her major and will soon be applying to graduate school. He is moving across the country and stepping out into life on his own.

It is easy to read those sentences and gloss over all the “behind the scenes” that comes with them. The worries that my daughter won’t get into the graduate school she wants. The fear that my son will be lonely—or, more likely, that we will be lonely with him so far away. The wondering whether we will ever all live in the same city again. These are light worries compared with the truly heavy things people carry, but worry doesn’t need a catastrophe to find its way in. Give it an unanswered question, an uncertain future, or someone you love whom you cannot protect, and it has plenty to work with.

The Bible tells us not to worry about anything. I try, but sometimes my emotions get ahead of what I know to be true. 

When I am afraid, I pray. I look to Jesus. I love Jesus. I have faith in Jesus, and I ask him to take away my worries. But I am realizing that I don’t just want faith in Jesus. I want to learn the faith of Jesus.

Take the disciples on the Sea of Galilee. A fierce storm came upon their boat, and they feared for their lives. Meanwhile, Jesus was asleep. They woke him crying, “Lord, save us! We’re going to drown!” Jesus responded, “You of little faith, why are you so afraid?” Then he got up, rebuked the winds and waves, and suddenly there was calm.

I have always focused on the miracle of Jesus calming the storm, but did you catch that when the disciples found him he was sleeping? The disciples had faith in Jesus; they knew exactly who to run to when they were afraid. But Jesus had complete confidence in his Father in the middle of the storm. The wind did not change his understanding of God. The waves did not change what he knew to be true.

This is where I find myself. Like the disciples, I run to Jesus and beg him: Save me. Fix this. Protect them. Work this out the way I hope you will. I have faith in him, but am I learning to have his faith? Do I know the Father Jesus knew—the God who loves me deeply, knows every hair on my head, and sees what I cannot see?

I realize how often I have operated in what I can only describe as beggar mode, as though I am standing outside trying to get God’s attention. But I am his daughter. Through Jesus, I have been invited in and given access to the power of the Holy Spirit. 

So as I walk into this next season, I want to walk confidently. The God who has answered prayer after prayer has not stopped being faithful simply because I cannot see around the next corner. He is already present in whatever awaits my daughter, and he is already across the country with my son before a single bag is unpacked. He will also be here with us when the house gets quieter.

Faith does not give me the ability to predict the future; it gives me confidence in the one who is already there. Instead of looking ahead and filling the unknown with everything that could go wrong, I can leave room for God to surprise me with what could go right. I can exchange apprehension for expectation. Perhaps that is part of learning the faith of Jesus: becoming less like the disciple who panics because of the storm and more like Jesus, whose peace came from knowing his Father.

Lord, you have said, “You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you.” I am hungry for that kind of trust—an unshakable faith planted deep within me. Holy Spirit, grow it in me in ever-increasing measure. When my mind begins filling the unknown with fear, remind me of what I know about you. Help me not to fill the future with fear, but with hopeful expectation. You are already there, and I trust you. Amen.