Today's Thoughts: My Dad, Abraham, and a Skinny Tree

Wouldn’t it be nice if we got to pick the trials we went through? And if we could somehow veto a particular trial….Although, if that were the case I would veto all of them! I am trial adverse, yet I realize the good that can come from trials. Nothing grows your faith like trials (just ask James!). But sometimes there a lot of ground to walk before you can see the good produced from a trial. And that ground is often treacherous, brutal, and full of deep pits.
I definitely would not have picked this trial (see Daddy’s Girl), yet here we are-facing an unknown outcome and a long recovery. This is hard. I have told God several times over the last 24 hours that it is too hard. I can’t do it. I can’t be strong. I just can’t.
But thankfully He can!
I find myself thinking a lot about Abraham. I keep picturing him walking up the mountain with his son, his only son. I keep wondering how he was able to make that journey, knowing that each step took him closer to losing his son. I find myself staring into the pages of my Bible as if looking for the tears that were surely streaming down his face at the thought of losing his son, his only son.
Surely Abraham had moments of thinking “this is too much to ask. I can’t do this Lord.”
Yet, he could and he did. How? Why?
Obedience. Worship. Trust.
Abraham obeyed God. In fact, he feared not obeying God. Abraham knew that God had promised to make from him a great nation, and yet he only had Isaac with which to bring that promise to being. Abraham had seen God provide over and over. He had witnessed firsthand the miracles of God. Abraham knew God kept His Word. Abraham had a relationship with God and he delighted in obeying the God he loved and who loved him.
Abraham worshiped God. Abraham told his servants that he and Isaac were going to worship God together. Wow! He was facing having to surrender what he loved most in the world into the hands of God, and he viewed it as worship. Abraham was willing to give up what he loved, what he depended on, to the One who had given it to him in the first place. He viewed the sacrifice and surrender as worship.
Abraham trusted God. He had heard God speak and had seen Him move. Abraham surely trusted God more than his own understanding. He did not know how God was still going to honor His promise, but he trusted that God would do so.
So as I sit here in the chair my dad always claims when he is visiting, I keep thinking about Abraham and Isaac. I find myself trying to open my hands in obedience. Trying to surrender my will in worship. And trying to trust in His plan more than my own understanding.

Oh how I petition the throne of Heaven on behalf of my daddy. I have discovered the meaning of “pray continually” as my prayers becomes as constant as breathing. I pray for healing, for peace, for many healthy years ahead, for strength. I keep gazing up reminding myself that God is good even when circumstances aren’t.
I read messages of love for a man who has no idea what he means to so many. A humble man who just loves others without thought to the impact he has had on their lives.
And as I sit in my daddy’s chair, I watch a tree outside our window. A tree that always makes us smile. We’ve often thought of cutting it down because it offers very little shade, is very tall, and seems rather pointless. Until today. Today I see the tree with new eyes.

This skinny tree that blows wildly at the slightest breeze, suddenly stands as a beacon of hope. You see, the top of the tree moves at the whim of the wind. The top of the tree looks unsteady and chaotic. Yet, the bottom of the tree never moves. The bottom of the tree stands firm. It’s roots forbidding the tree to succumb to the frantic movements caused by the wind. The tree will move, the wind will blow, but that tree is firmly rooted and will not fall.

Today, I thank God for my daddy, for Abraham, and for a skinny tree. Winds are blowing, things feel chaotic, my mind is racing, yet God is holding me firm and He will not let me fall.
Much love from this Daddy’s girl,
Jen