I hear her making noise, softly at first but then with volume increasing. She’s supposed to be taking a nap. Irritation and anger, my heart grows dark. This is my time. My time to read. My time to get things done. If this Eldest Daughter of mine gets any louder, she’ll wake Baby Sister and then my time will be gone. I storm down the hall toward her bedroom and I begin to hear what she is doing.
“Take my life an’ leddit be”
“Aw for you an’ for your glory”
Anger melts and irritation dissipates like a cold mist when the bright, warm sun appears. The words make me pause, cause my mind and heart to ponder. I wish she could always sing those words with such carefree abandon.
At two, she doesn’t really understand what this means. I only have a glimmering myself, but it is enough to make me wonder.
When I sing this song in worship, do I really mean it? Will I truly tell God that He can have my life for His glory? Am I able to tell God that He can give me cancer, take away my sight, “stretch out (His) hand and strike (my) flesh and bones”* if doing so will bring Him glory?
After all, this life is “a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes”*. Of what importance is my body compared to my or anyone else’s soul?
“Take my life” I think this through a bit more.
What about my family? They are just as much a part of my life as my physical body. Am I able to tell God that He can have my family, do to them what He wills, even take them away from me if doing so will bring Him glory?
This is much harder.
Could I say “The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised”*?
Yet why should I be afraid? Isn’t this the same God of Whom was said, “He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing”*? Isn’t this the same God Who “did not spare His own Son, but gave Him up for us all—how will He not also, along with Him, graciously give us all things?”*
Why, then, am I still frightened?
I know that God is always good, always loves and is always in control. Sometimes, though, I forget. I cling tightly to what is mine. I grasp my health, my time, my family. I forget that nothing is mine. I forget that all is gift.
And then I hear God speak.
I hear Him speak through a child of two.
Hear her sing? Hear her joy? She is joyful because she trusts. She trusts in this moment rather than fearing for all of her future moments. Trust Me in this moment and let Me care for the future.”
Living in now. Leaving what is to come for the One Who already dwells there.
I sit on the floor in the hallway and listen to my daughter trust God with all of the joyful, careless abandon that is easiest for a child. Or for those who become like a child.
verses are from Job 2.5, James 4.14, Job 1.21, Zephaniah 3.17, Romans 8.32, NIV
by Elizabeth, Made Sacred