Once again, I awoke at 3:30 a.m. with a heavy heart. The room was dark and still, but my mind was racing: current events ending tragically, personal issues seeming complicated. It was too much for a tired, typically optimistic Jesus girl.
As I lay there feeling the weight of several burdens, a prayer—almost a reflex-like response to sadness—escaped my lips. It was simple but desperate: “Lord, help me. I don’t know what to do. But you can fix this. Show me how, God. Please show me.”
Such a downtrodden demeanor is new for me. My usual “propensity for sunshine,” as a friend calls it, has dimmed of late, but even within this temporary state of gloom, God is giving it purpose. One, I’m clinging to the Savior more frequently, more intimately. Two, He is lavishing me with tender, sweet confirmation of His love and presence.
Like this morning, for example. I headed out for what looked like a rainy walk but didn’t get far before hearing in my head, “Go back and get your phone.” The wording, urgency, and peculiarity of this thought (I never take my phone when exercising) meant only one thing: the still, small voice of God was nudging, and a spiritual encounter was coming. Needless to say, I obeyed.
Five minutes later, phone in hand, this happened—dark storm clouds I’d noticed earlier had been outshone with golden, glorious sky art covering the horizon. It simply had to be photographed. As I took the picture with my phone, another thought—as if Someone were speaking directly to my weary soul—settled in: “Guess what I can do that you can’t? Form clouds.” No doubt about it; God and I were on quite the chatty walk, and boy, was I listening.
Rounding the corner, the cloud thing still resonating, a group of trees caught my eye. The undergrowth was thick and daunting, but a big ball of sunlight was breaking through the darkness. What a photo that’d make! No sooner had I captured the image than it seemed as if Someone were talking to me, although all was quiet: “Know what I can do that you can’t? Tell the sun to rise.” I was beginning to get the picture.
There’s not room here to recount all the photos or conversations God brought to me on that walk, but just know that a tiny bunny and annoying crow were involved. 🙂 And a gentle breeze that calmed my anxious spirit—“And when they climbed into the boat with Jesus, the wind died down” (Matthew 14:32).
At some point during what reminded me of a holy ground moment, I hummed the old hymn “How Great Thou Art.” No idea where that came from; it’s not a song I hear often. But soon my burdens lifted. My perspective shifted. And I’m reminded that while I can’t do the hard things, He can. While I don’t have a plan, He does. And when questions linger, it’s okay: The Sovereign One with answers walks with me.
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