#WhoIAm

Doubt has been whispering in my own voice these past few months.  In my small church in my small town, I have been believing (because of someone else’s words spoken in passing) that I am not liked by other women, that I should not, could not teach a class, or probably even participate in one.  

As I have read A Confident Heart these last few weeks, I have heard God whispering to me.

He tells me that I am a child of God.  (John 1:12)  

He tells me that I do not need to fear, for He is with me. (Isaiah 41:10)

He tells me that I am a part of the body of Chris.t (1 Corinthians 12:7)

He tells me to always be joyful, to let others see my gentleness, to stop worrying and start praying.  (Philippians 4:5,6)

Two weeks ago, I looked at a Bible study book to consider leading a follow up group from a women’s retreat I attended this fall.  Someone else borrowed the book from me, and somehow, in the passing around of the book, a rumor started that I was committed to leading the class.  A friend felt betrayed because I hadn’t told her.  I felt betrayed because people were talking about me instead of to me.  And my own voice began whispering to me again, “See, these people don’t like you.  They tell lies about you.  They don’t think you can lead this group.  They don’t want you around.”  But this time, I will not listen to that voice.  I have agreed to lead the first session of the study.  Thirteen women are interested in coming, though not all will be able to attend.  And I will listen to God’s voice.  Maybe another woman will lead Session 2.  Maybe God will ask me to continue leading the group.  But I will not cower away because of misunderstandings and my own doubts.  I will trust God as he leads me in the direction He wants me to go.  This other stuff really doesn’t matter.

God whispers to me “I will meet all your needs.  I will meet them in keeping with my wonderful riches that come to you because you belong to Christ Jesus.”  (Philippians 4:19)

No more worrying, no more cowering.  From now on, just trusting and believing!

Why Seven Stars?

“Can you see the stars?” I asked my son.

“I see seven stars.  How many do you see?”  he replied.

We sat alone, the two of us in camp chairs, looking straight up at the nighttime sky.  The only remains of the campfire in front of us were orange coals, no flames.  The sun had long set, turning the sky to deep indigo, approaching total blackness.  A sliver of a moon, nearly hidden by lodge pole pines, began to disappear behind the Sawtooth Mountains to the west.  Somewhere behind us, his father and sister prepared for sleep.  No artificial light could be seen, no other campfires, no city skylines in the distance, no lantern lights from any campsite.   The night was nearly as dark as a night can get.  The sky was clear.  And my ten-year old counted seven stars.

“How many do you see?” he asked me.

I could not begin to count the stars on that summer night.  The Milky Way flowed through the dark sky like a mountain stream.  And my son counted seven stars.

“I see more than seven,” I whispered, choking back the tears at the thought of what he could not see, the grandeur of God’s creation that my son could not truly conceive.

Later, both children in bed, my husband and I sat alone by the campfire, now stoked with new wood, the flames lapping higher.  And I shared the story of the seven stars.

We chuckled as only parents of a child with a disability could.  If anyone else had laughed, or even smiled, I would have been defensive and angry.  But alone, we could share the moment, as we have shared the struggle.  Our son is vision impaired.  Multiple surgeries and ten years of miracles have moved him from legally blind to vision impaired.  But on that beautiful summer night in the Sawtooths, he saw only seven stars.

As we joked, one of us said “When he gets to heaven, he’s gonna say ‘WHAT?  You made how many stars, God?  And I never got to see them?”

“Or maybe,” the other replied, “He’ll just say “WOW!”

As I sat there, pondering my own vision impairment.  Which of God’s works do I fail to see?  What moments of grandeur do I miss?  When do I count seven stars, when in fact the stars are uncountable?  I must open my eyes, look through God’s lenses, to the world around me.  I want to see all the stars He created for me tonight.