"Where is God in the midst of this season, Sarah? He could easily make things different for you and your family."
I got this question and statement yesterday. In the midst of this season with my dad and all the many things that are impacted by his indefinite detainment, I have often asked the question myself: Where is He?
There is so much weight behind that plea.
In my mind, I can picture myself having coffee with Jesus and asking question after question, being enlightened, intrigued and humbled by his patient answers. And in some ways, I think He does that with us: slowly enlightening us on who He is and how He works.
In other ways, He remains silent because there are some things that my dust-made brain cannot comprehend. His plan is too big, too involved, too complex to fathom. And knowing that, He uses these seasons to show me that faith is not simply a formula (there was no formula for him crawling upon a cross for the sake of the world). Nor is faith dependent on getting what you want, like some celestial game show in the sky.
Faith is believing in what is not seen. And right now, I do not see God.
Sheesh. That is a big statement for me.
However, as much as I want to stomp my foot and throw a gigantic toddler fit (toddler fits are not pretty when you are 33), I either simply believe that He loves, He fights, He knows or I don't.
The complexity of my emotions are not that simple but the act of me choosing is.
Simple does not equal easy. Yet it does mean that all the extra stuff, extra fluff crowding my mind can fall away. And all I am left with, all I need to be left with, is whether or not I believe in a Jesus who has never left me.
Some days, I wholeheartedly do.
Other days, it takes me a while.
But at the end of the day, my hope is that I not only choose to believe it, but I wallow in it.
So, when the next person asks me, "Sarah, where is God in all of this?" I can simply say that I do not exactly know.
But I am choosing to believe that He is there, working, waiting, planning, perfecting. And my dusty little pea-brain can only hope that I see Him soon.