We told our kids we’re moving to Pittsburgh this summer for a new job. They were sad, asked why we couldn’t stay, but amid the sadness, they accepted it. They have questions, ranging from the state bird and flower to where they’ll go to school. But they inherently trust us.
We told them we were going to find a new home there. They asked if they could see the options and help us decide on the best house, but we asked them to let us do that work for them. I told them about our first house-hunting experience, how I set my heart on a house on the far side of town, but it was bought out from under us. I told them how hard it was to get excited about living anywhere else after that. But God knew. He knew the community he had specifically chosen for us. They nodded their heads, realizing the gravity of the choice and the goodness of God to them in their friends and said, “Will you please find a house for us?”
They teach me faith, child-like faith. Sometimes faith is an impossibly hard act, prying off fear and putting on trust in who God is. He is my good, good father. I can’t comprehend his goodness and mercy; sometimes they look like nothing more than painful change to me. But in remembering his promises and his past provision, I can rest in him. I can ask him to find a house for us, and he can tell our realtor about a house that’s not even on the market, which he did. He prepares the way for me. He takes the burden from my shoulders and puts it on his own. He says, “Will you trust me? Will you trust ME? I promise I have good planned for you and the children I gave you. Will you trust me like your children trust you? I promise my provision for you is far beyond what you could ask or imagine because I love you that much. I want you to trust and rest in me.”