Think God doesn’t have you in mind for “big” hard things? Think again. In this blog article, Brett & Alex at The Rebelution take a look at our perceptions and the truth about what “little” and “big” really mean in God’s sight.

:: Understanding Small Hard Things

This was a very clarifying article for me. Unlike some people, I have never felt called to a particular ministry outside my home or been given a burden for a humanitarian cause or a burning desire to take the gospel to distant lands. I am simply happy to “be” as He would have me here in this small sphere, where I may never reach more than a handful. Perhaps that sounds very dispassionate, and I do not wish it to become an excuse that holds me back from stepping beyond my comfort zone, but ministry in my family has always been more of an everyday life sort of approach, rather than a vocation or program oriented one.

Yet I have struggled with wondering if I am missing out on some “greater calling”, if I am being content with too little a task. In my heart I know this is not the truth. My “greater calling” is only the one God asks of me, regardless of what it looks like from the outside. Little can be big…it’s all a matter of perspective.

I was in Wild Oats a couple months ago on Christmas Eve, shopping for some last minute items. As I walk down the first aisle, a tall black guy is walking towards me. He stops me as we cross paths, a look of friendly inquiry on his face that launches my brain into preparation for the “mistaken employee” question. But instead of asking where he can find the vanilla soy milk, he promptly blurts out -

“Are you tall?”

My brain nearly crash lands on the airfield. I didn’t see that coming. I look at him dumbfounded, my brain now going in circles as to what possible reason he could have for asking me this. Sizing me up for a girlfriend’s Christmas gift? He is too tall to need any help on the high shelves…

“Uhh….am I tall?” I echo blankly, peering up at him in all of his 6 foot-and-somethingness. My height has never been much of a topic of conversation before.

“For a girl.” he clarifies, surely seeing the depth of confusion in my green eyes.

“Uh…I guess so?” I stammer. My brain goes into amnesia and I suddenly can’t remember what exactly my height is and if it’s really even that tall. I mumble some numbers, only to realize later I gave him my mom’s (shorter) height instead of mine. I’m taller with my boots on anyway.

“Well, I’m taller than you, but you look tall!” he declares with a big smile as we continue our separate ways down the aisle. (Dude, you’re like 6 foot 5″…you’re taller than most everyone.)

I laugh, still lost in the clouds of confusion. “Thank You!” I call after him, hoping it makes up for my brain-dead answers and wanting to appreciate whatever kind of compliment that was supposed to be.

Talk about weird. Random. Weird. Next time I meet someone in the store, I hope they just ask me where the soy milk is….

(I’m 5′ 7 1/2″ in my stocking feet. Just average, really. )

I’ve been dreamin’ dreams of a heavenly place/ ’cause this world is not my home

Some days, I would do anything to hear that bell ring again, the little one she kept on her night table. Even at 3 am. I would spring out of my bed, cover the few steps between her door and mine, and help her out of bed or adjust the covers or get her a drink. That blessed little bell. What I wouldn’t give for another smile. Another hug. Another I love you.

Valentine’s Day marked 1 year and 6 months since my grandma went to be with the Lord. It seems like such a long time, and yet some days it seems like I just lost her yesterday. Even as I post this, a friend’s elderly brother, an exuberant, dearly loved man, lies in the hospital and may not live to see another morning on this earth, another shattering reminder of the pain we all face.

There is a sweet beauty in all of this – that our loved ones who know Jesus, whether they are gone now or will go in the future, know the joys of a much better place, and are so fully satisfied with Christ that we could never wish them back. But that will never stop it from hurting.

When you hear those words “There’s nothing we can do”, something breaks inside of you. Life on earth loses a little more of its luster with every breath. Grandma had been through so much. She’d fought through so much. I had prayed many nights for God to please let her come home from the hospital alive. And she had. And then, when we were finally about to pull ourselves over the top of the mountain, an avalanche came crashing down on top of us.

There was weeping in that little house on sixth avenue that night, after those words from the doctor. Not because we were scared to say goodbye, for we knew she was ready, but because saying goodbye for that last time is the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do. It breaks your heart.

That summer was such a gift from God. One that I will always treasure. One that no one else could ever understand. It wasn’t always easy, but I wouldn’t change it if I could. I made memories to last a lifetime, memories that are a healing balm to the tears. I have the comfort of knowing I gave Grandma as much love as I could.

If this is what God wants, if this is what God says/ who am I to doubt or try to figure out the circumstance

And it’s okay. Not in my earthly eyes, no, but in my spiritual eyes. Because if there’s one thing I know, it’s that His eye is on the sparrow and that no matter what happens, it IS well with my soul.

His time was not my time, but His ways are not my ways. And I don’t really expect to ever understand. Sorrow runs deep, and some dreams will always be broken. But I trust that it is not in vain. I may never see the good, but by faith I know it is there.

Our real home waits on the other side/where our treasures lie in store/no need to grieve for this old place/for heaven holds much more

“I love you. We’ll see you in the morning.” Those were the last words I said to my grandma. And so we will. No goodbye can ever change that. For this world…this world is NOT my home.

I love you, Grandma.

Sometimes you are afraid to be the person you really are. Afraid to admit that what you see inside yourself is not who you want to be. Not the person everyone around you thinks you are. That at your deepest core and rawest moments, you are falling apart.

Sometimes you live a life you don’t like. Live a life you don’t want to live. Because you don’t know how to change. Because you’re afraid to change. Afraid to leave the terrible ruts that mean comfort for the new roads that mean change. You choose easy over good.

Sometimes you are afraid to trust God. Afraid that letting Him have all of your life – and your dreams – will mean He will ask more of you than you are willing to give. To do something you don’t want do to. To sacrifice something you are afraid to let go of. To wait longer than you can wait. Your heart trembles to believe, longing to let go, yet clinging desperately.

Oh God, free me from this fear. Free me from being afraid. From this prison that closes around me like a heavy darkness, blocking out the light of truth that I crave to soak beneath. Free me to be the person you made me to be. To live the life you made me to live.

Free to trust You, and to trust Your Love.

“And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him. In this way, love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment, because in this world we are like him. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.” – 1 John 4: 16-18

“It is far better to endure patiently a smart which nobody feels but yourself, than to commit a hasty action whose evil consequences will extend to all connected with you.”

-Jane Eyre

With the weather outside something frightful, or at least too chilly for my taste, the dawn of January found me checking into a local gym. (Ah…..let me savor the moment of how impressive that sounded. Okay, got it. Sorry.)

I’d never been to a gym before and to be quite honest, all the weird looking machines and people and general bustle was rather intimidating. I felt a little apprehensive that first Monday as I trotted up the stairs in my blue & green Nikies to the main floor. I started my warm-up walk around the track, which circled the perimeter of the respective workout areas. This gave me some time to take in the environment, notice where everything was located, and observe the general activity.

With each step my apprehension gave way to confidence and a sense of belonging…and strangely enough, inspiration. I started to notice the diversity of people present. White-haired ladies to middle-aged men to college students, some trim, some not so trim, from all walks of life and professions. And they were all there for the same basic reason of strengthening their body for a healthier lifestyle.

Some were lifting weights, some were pounding the treadmill; others biked away while reading their paper, or walked circles like I was. And I cheered each of them on in my heart. Because they were there, They were changing something. To quote runner John Bingham, “The miracle is not that I finished. The miracle is that I had the courage to start.” And to me, that is really worth something.

After hopping on the treadmill for what one could say was a moving experience (sorry, bad pun), I cooled down on the track again and then procured myself one of the bright blue mats for an extended dose of stretching. Staring up at the purple-pink ceiling with the whir of ellipticals and treadmills and the clank of weights echoing through the open air, I realized what a wonderfully stimulating environment this place called the gym was. Just being there, surrounded by all those people made me more excited about what I was doing; it made me want to keep coming back.

That experience got me thinking about the family of God. And how being part of that family bears resemblance to being part of a gym community.

As Christians, we’re all on an individual journey – a specific “work-out plan”. We’re at different places learning different things. Some of us are just walking, some of us are running, some of us are lifting weights, and some of us are doing a whole lot of stretching. But the point is, we all have the same goal and the same pursuit – serving Jesus Christ. And that fact alone makes it inspiring to be with each other. That fact alone should make us cheer one another on.

“But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called Today, so that none of you may be hardened by sin’s deceitfulness.” – Hebrews 3:13

I am so grateful for the beautiful gift God has given me as part of His family – built in workout partners! Whether we share and train closely together, give a smile and word of encouragement as we’re jogging by, or just observe the workings of God in lives from afar – well, it’s plain motivating.

So lace on those shoes and look around – you’re not alone!