Devotional Archives--God's Provision

June 21, 2004 —

My Kitchen Table

“So he built an altar there to the LORD, who had appeared to Him.” Genesis 12:7b

Sometimes I forget the promise I made to the Lord. I worry and whine instead of remembering.

A few years ago we went through a lean time. I was very frustrated with my kitchen table and chairs that kept falling apart. A business deal fell through and with it my dreams for repairs and upgrades in our home. I was disappointed and felt a bit abandoned. A friend of mine gently reprimanded me. “It sounds to me like you were trusting in that situation and not in the Lord. You know He promises to provide for your needs.”

I wasn’t so worried about my basic needs that day. I struggled to let go of my wants. My friend had an answer for that as well. She told me about a time when she’d had a bad attitude and how she eventually looked to the Lord for some furniture she needed. She found just what she wanted at a garage sale . . . and it was exactly her taste and style, not just functional, but beautiful.

I thought a lot about her story. I knew God met my needs, but hadn’t dared to believe He might care about my style and taste. I prayed that day. I told the Lord I wouldn’t be mad at Him if He didn’t give me my desire, but that if He cared about my taste and my style, I really needed a new kitchen table.

I told Him I liked the kind with a white tiled top and light blonde wood. I hoped for four matching chairs and a bench to go across one side. “If you give me one,” I prayed, “it will be like an altar in my kitchen, reminding me You care about my tastes and desires. When I have hard times, I will look at the table, remember Your care, and trust You for provision.”

Shortly after that, I left for a day of shopping garage sales. My husband and I agreed on an amount I could spend if I found a table. I happened upon a big neighborhood sale. I drove, then walked street after street of yard sales. It was such a great find I called a good friend who also liked to bargain hunting and suggested she join us, which she did.

We found a kitchen set. It wasn’t my favorite style, but it was solid wood and the right price. My friend, a talented seamstress, suggested ways to remake the chair cushions to fit my décor. As we studied it the owner interrupted us. The table had sold.

I walked away, frustrated and told my friend how much I wanted a new kitchen set. She looked at me kind-of funny and then told me how she had a table and four chairs that were in her way. They had never been her style and she no longer used them. Would I be interested?

My friend went on to describe her table—blonde wood surrounding white tiles with four matching chairs. When my husband found out he sent me to the nearest furniture store for a matching bench . . .

That table still sits in my kitchen, but often I forget the promise I made the Lord. I don’t even think of the miraculous way I received it. I just go about my business—serve meals on it, wipe it off, and clean under it.

Rarely do I take time to remember that it is also an altar—like the stones the Israelites piled to remind them of God’s great work in their midst. Sometimes I still fret about our future, furniture that needs to be replaced, and repairs that scream at me. I let them nag at me and threaten my ability to appreciate my home.

Yet, in the midst of my bad attitudes, a pretty little table sits in my kitchen, waiting to be noticed. I’ve never stopped enjoying it. I like the way the white top adds to the cheer of the room. I love to sit around the table and visit with loved ones. This week my daughter cut roses from our bush and they looked so pretty adorning it. Its beauty blesses me even when I forget to say thank you.

I’m not a name it and claim it type of Christian. I believe God reveals Himself to me in the “no’s” in life as much as in the “yes’s.” But I do believe the Word teaches me to trust Him for my needs and that He cares about the desires of my heart.

In Matthew 5:25 & 26 (NIV), Jesus says, “ . . . do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or your body, what you will wear . . .Look at the birds of the air; they do no sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?”

For some reason, in His infinite wisdom, God chose to say “yes” to my plea for that kitchen table. Maybe He wanted me to trust more fully in His heart of care for me. All I know is it was beautifully tender of my Lord to give me a tangible reminder of His love. I’m sad that sometimes I forget—and tonight I long to remember.

Father, don’t let me forget the miracles You’ve done in my life. Help me to remember Your care and trust in Your provision.

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June 29, 2004 —

The Dollhouse

Sarah saved her money for months and accumulated quite a sum for a four-year-old girl. Concerned, it dawned on me that I’d never talked with her about giving to God. I’d taught her the importance of saving for something she wanted—which happened to be a dollhouse—but hadn’t taught her the importance of giving.

Driving to church that morning, I talked to Sarah about giving to God. I told her that she didn’t have to give an offering of her little stash since we hadn’t talked about it before, but that it was important to begin developing a life long habit of giving back to God a part of what He blessed her with.

My sweet little girl agonized over her decision. She wanted to give money back to God, but had been saving faithfully, dreaming of buying the dollhouse I couldn’t afford to purchase for her. I left the decision to her, but told her not to worry—that you couldn’t out-give God.

In the end she chose to dip into her saving and give God an offering. She seemed at peace with her decision, but I saw the struggle as she pulled the bills from her bank. A few days later some neighbors moved unexpectedly. When the owners of the house they rented cleaned, they found children’s toys left behind and piled them in a heap in front of the house for the garbage man to pick up. A friend came to visit and noticed the pile.

“Paula—there’s a dollhouse!” she said. We grabbed Sarah’s hand and ran up the block to the pile of discarded toys. In the middle sat a perfect dollhouse trimmed in pink siding, with a little button in the nursery that, when pushed, lit up the room and played a lull-a-bye. Thrilled, Sarah’s eyes widened.

When we reached down to pick-up the dollhouse, Sarah pointed to several items next to it: a couple of dolls that fit the house, a fancy pink convertible, and some dollhouse furniture. The three of us loaded the treasures into our arms and walked home. It didn’t take long to sanitize the toys and then Sarah and I rushed to the store where she spent her savings to finish furnishing the dollhouse.

Sarah and I talked about how she could never have afforded all the items given to her that day. We both knew they were God’s special gift of love to her. He showed my little girl, first hand, that you couldn’t out give God.

I had a similar experience as a child. I remember squirming in my seat at church as the usher collected an offering. I only had one dollar, and didn’t know when I could get another. I wanted to give something to God—but I had no change, nothing but that bill.

I fought with myself as the usher drew closer to my seat. It was all I had! Surely, God didn’t want me to give it up! But in my little girl heart I wanted to be bigger than my selfishness. I wanted to trust God with all I had. I fought with myself until the last minute dropped the money in the plate just as it passed me.

Later that day, my grandma took me “out back” behind her house. I remember the creak of the screen door and the coolness of her covered back porch. “Now you don’t need to tell anyone about this,” she whispered, as she slipped a dollar bill into my hand.

I remember looking down at the bill, wondering if she knew I’d given my last one at church that day, or if God had just whispered into her heart that He wanted me to have one. I never asked her—just took her gift, wrapped her in a hug, and thought about how you couldn’t out give God.

There was a time that I would have thought God was just doing His duty to Sarah with the dollhouse and to me with the dollar. We obeyed, He repaid. We deserved His gifts. I’m saddened I could ever think that way! As I’ve matured, I see myself for who I truly am, and more importantly, see God for Who HE truly is—and I know I deserve nothing.

Yet, He gives me everything—salvation, eternity, and wonder of wonders, Himself. God didn’t give out of obligation to Sarah and me. We can’t ever do enough good works to tip the balance in our favor. God gave out of who He is: Love. He gave because He wanted to, because He cares.

Tonight I’m struck by God’s attention to the dreams and concerns of little girls. Not only did He give more to my daughter than she could have ever afforded herself, but He gave her a priceless peek into His heart. He showed her He cared about her dream and that He saw her struggle to delay it for something of greater value.

God revealed His love and provision to a little girl who took a tiny step of faith toward Him. I don’t think she’ll ever forget this very special glimpse into how personal He is. I pray the experience shapes her life and lives with her, reminding her that He cares about her desires—and that she can never out-give God.

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July 5, 2004 —

The Dream

Laundry piles loomed around me—not just three or four—maybe twelve or thirteen of them. I sat on the bottom step of my stairs, where I sort dirty clothes into appropriate piles. Staring at the mess I asked God, again, to provide a washing machine for me. Mine had quit in the middle of washday. (Okay, so with multiple children it takes at least two days for me to do the laundry, not one . . . J).

The telephone rang. I chatted a minute and hung up, dumbfounded. A friend had purchased a new computer system and felt the Lord wanted me to have her old one. Was I interested? I laughed at the irony of it. I had prayed for a computer system until the washing machine broke—then I’d abandoned that prayer to pray for the more pressing need. Now, instead of a washing machine, God gave me a computer.

As I processed what happened, I felt God speaking to me. I’d just made a difficult decision to home school my then kindergartner. I’d always planned to home school my children, but I was pregnant (again) and, after five years of nursing and diapers, I realized how much it required to be home with little ones.

It consumed my life. My energy waned, my creativity got lost in the constant demands of menial tasks, and my vocabulary was degenerating into something like, “Yes, nighty-night time. Give Mommy kiss . . . ” My dream to write lay buried under a sea of diapers and preschool books. To home school meant more years when the demands of mothering crowded out my personal hopes.

“What do you mean you’re not sure?” My husband asked. “Isn’t this what we planned before she was even born?”

“Yes, I just don’t think I can. With the baby coming, and all I have to do. .”

My husband said if we needed to re-think things we could, but once I was told it was okay to consider NOT home schooling, I couldn’t back out. I knew God had given me the desire to home school. To turn away from the choice would go against His will, the desires of my husband, and my own heart. I shelved my writing dreams once again.

That’s when the computer system arrived. It was as if God whispered to me as I sat in piles of dirty laundry, overwhelmed by the mundane tasks of the lifestyle I’d chosen. “I’m the keeper of your dreams, Paula.” I felt Him say. “I know you want more than laundry piles. I gave you those dreams and I’ll see them through.”

That was eight years ago. After God gave me the computer system I wrote poems about the children’s discovery of the world, annual holiday letters, and page after page in my journal, but for five years I didn’t pursue writing for publication. I went to the zoo, taught little ones to read, and sought my Father’s heart.

About three years ago, I sat down at the computer with no real plans. My fingers started moving and three months later I had a 500-page novel. I’ve spent the last few years entering the world of writing—learning the craft of fiction writing, developing a website, launching my weekly devotionals. The Lord began opening doors for publication and leading me day by day, to the next step on my writing journey. When God gave me a computer system I couldn’t afford to buy, He not only answered a prayer, but also confirmed a dream.

God is like that. He doesn’t only provide for my needs, He provides for my heart.

Oh, by the way, we found a nifty washer/dryer set that even matched (hadn’t had that for awhile!) through the newspaper. He took care of my laundry, too.

Father, thank you for providing for my heart. I don’t always feel I have the faith to ask you for what I need, much less what I want, yet You stand there, loving and providing just the same. Give me the faith and courage to trust you with my needs and my dreams.

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July 12, 2004 —

The Blizzard

It’ll be remembered as the blizzard of ’96. For two days the airport was shut down. No one flew in or out. The vendors couldn’t support the need for food for stranded travelers. Transportation even to the nearby hotels was impossible.

The first day the airport was operational after the blizzard my husband and I were to fly out for our “gift from God” vacation. I’d prayed for months that the Lord would give me some special time alone with my husband before child number four arrived—the fourth child in six years. When my husband was invited to participate in a focus group at an insurance company’s national convention—and I was invited to join him for an all expense paid trip to a five star resort—I believed God had answered.

Waddling down the airport corridors convinced God had given my husband and me this time, I ignored the swelling crowds and repeated announcements of cancelled flights. The baby, due in less than two weeks, didn’t keep me from this trip. Certainly, God wouldn’t let the weather!

We reached our gate to discover our flight had been cancelled. We were directed to the main terminal for flight reassignment. My courage waned. My husband kissed my cheek and whispered, “You’ve said this is from God. If it’s His gift, don’t you think we’ll get to go?”

The happy ending to the story is that we miraculously made it on one of two flights that left for Phoenix. Hardly anyone flew out that day but we did. We spent our mini-vacation in surroundings unlike anything either of us had experienced—a sunken tub in our $450 per night room, plush robes, fancy meals, pristine pools where I simply raised a flag for my every need to be attended—all charged to the insurance company.

A few years ago God gave my husband and me another gift. We were in an incredibly difficult time financially. My husband had been laid off and we were hanging on by a thread. During this struggle, I won a “gold” certificate to one of my favorite restaurants and we enjoyed a night out, all expenses paid. There was no price limit on the certificate and I ordered deserts and lemonade and all the extras. I felt rich.

The oppression lifted and my husband and I dreamed again of our hopes for the future, something we’d been unable to do in the discouragement of unemployment. In that moment I heard the Lord whisper to my heart, “If you’ll trust me, I’ll give you these times of refreshment.”

One of the hardest things about our choice to live on one salary has been my fear of not having the money for special times. As my husband has chosen employment based on ministry potential and protecting time for our family over salary level, that fear escalated.

These two experiences show me God knows my need for specials times. I think I used to believe, unconsciously, that God cared about my dedication and my service to Him, but that I had to look out for myself when it came to the fun stuff. He has showed me clearly that His heart is much more generous than I thought—and that He understands the human need for refreshment.

Why, oh why, do I fight for myself—trying to give myself the things I think I lack? I have a Father who knows all I need and has the resources to take care of me—if I will only learn to rest in Him for the provision.

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July 19, 2004 —

His Presence is Better Than His Presents

It’s a beautiful thing to begin grasp the concept of God as provider. I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand what Jesus meant when he told us to consider the lilies of the field and how Solomon in all his glory wasn’t arrayed as one of them. I haven’t yet mastered the art of not worrying about money—despite the many gifts of provision I’ve experienced in my lifetime.

I went through an interesting experience last year. It seemed that doors for provision slammed all around me. In the past, God had provided amazingly—miracle furniture, miracle vacations, miracle car repairs . . . but suddenly it seemed to stop. We even had a vacation offered to us that slipped out of our hands. I was hurt. How could God dangle a carrot and take it away? I learned a valuable lesson during this time.

I used to think that, if I obeyed, God would smooth the way before me. Now I know that obedience doesn't mean ease of details. He works things out, but not always the way I want and, certainly, not as quickly as I thought He would. I'm learning that He shows us, as we mature in Him, the joy in sacrificing and obeying without the perks.

I wrote a friend last winter about this issue. “When our faith is young He seems to baby us through things,” I said, “making life easier so we learn to trust and then gradually He allows us to enter into His suffering and weans us from the perks. I think they'll still come when He knows we really need them, but He stretches us longer and farther than the last time. He keeps asking me, ‘Do you want me or my blessings?’ I keep saying ‘You Lord! You're the BEST!’ and quietly hope for some blessings along the way. I think I was becoming dependent on His blessings and He wanted me to be dependent on Him.”

God is big and mysterious. I don’t know why, several years ago, God gave me a beyond-my-dreams, all expenses paid vacation with my husband and, yet last year we didn’t even get one night alone! I don’t know why He allows lean years that stretch and grow me, that hurt—then suddenly things lift. I do know He knows why and I can trust Him.

Perhaps that is part of what the journey is about. He provided miraculously for me many times, showing me that I could trust Him. Then, as my faith grew, He asked me to trust Him in things that felt a bit harder and lasted a little longer. And He continues to teach me that He is trustworthy, both by allowing hardship and by giving provision.

As I learn to trust Him, I also learn to love Him. I’m discovering that as much as I enjoy His perks, they are nothing compared to His presence. Too often it is in the lean times I seek Him more passionately. Why is it in the troubled times that I slow down to discover His heart?

I’ve found I don’t want to be dependent upon His blessings. I want to be dependent on Him. His presents are amazing. But His presence is best.

“Lord, let me be willing to allow You to refocus my life from Your blessings to Your Person. No matter what comes and goes in my world, I know I can never lose You.”