Today my front porch sit with God is clouded over by the burden of lost souls. More particularly, the lost souls of those dear to me and those in my church family that ache the same.
I pray over these precious souls, asking the Lord to melt and bend them toward Him. May I be so bold as to ask Him to exert His sovereignty over their stubbornness of will and MAKE them acknowledge and love Him? Could He please just take away their freedom of choice and instead of hardening hearts like Pharaoh, could He just mercifully melt them? My heart weeps with the sky this morning, for them and for those of us who share our lives with them as wives, or husbands, or mothers or sisters, or children.
Here is the heavy cloud, hung low and dripping with sadness over the beloveds that are not only off the path toward eternity in Heaven, but truly missing out on the here and now wonderfulness of walking daily in God’s sturdy arms. So I return to the markers God placed in my heart long ago. He wrote them, like roadside reminders, by breathing words of hope to be recorded for moments (and lifetimes) just like these, for hearts just like ours:
“With God all things are possible.” Matthew 19:26
All things. With God.
I am reminded of all the Impossibles before mine…
Sarah, heavy with child after what surely seemed like a lifetime of yearning.
The safe passage from slavery of God’s precious Israelites through walls of sea and away from a vicious multitude in thundering pursuit.
Crumbling city walls from an army whose greatest obvious weapon was noise.
Youth versus Giant. You remember who was left standing.
The whale-dweller, that reluctant prophet, Jonah.
The withered hand. Legs and limbs broken beyond repair—a lifetime of can’ts and nevers wiped away and replaced with I cans!
A lunch of one into a more than satisfying feast for thousands.
And then there’s that empty tomb. Three hours of unexplained darkness in the middle of the day. The ripped veil, the shaking earth, open graves. That empty tomb…
In this moment, I thank God for the remembrance of His work across the ages, deep in the hearts of the Impossible moments and people. I am grateful beyond measure that He chose to record these proofs of His powerful and victorious nature.
Thank you, Jesus, for being the Victor over the Impossibles!
I lay before You all my Impossibles: the souls, the situations, the tasks. And rest while I await the victories.
What are YOUR Impossibles? What are your walls of Jericho, or giants to be slain, or small lunches before a hungry hoard? Remind yourself of our Savior, the Jesus of the Impossible, and wait with me with hope, for the rolling away of stones.