Sunday

It's All a Matter of Perspective

Standing at the kitchen counter, I feel a tug at my pants leg. Fully aware that my tiny granddaughter stands at my feet, I continue spreading peanut butter on a slice of bread. The tug becomes more insistent. 

“Just a minute, Caroline. Gigi can’t pick you up right now.” 


Caroline (lightly dusted with flour from Mommy's baking)
A frown creases her little brow. Whimpering, she grabs both pants legs, arching her back as if to will herself higher. 

“I know you’re hungry. Hang on. I’m making you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” 

My words only fuel her distress. With a final swipe of the knife, I add jelly to the sandwich, then smoosh the two pieces of bread together, completing the PB&J marriage. A wail at my feet signals the end of Caroline’s patience. 

I understand Caroline’s frustration. 

From her limited perspective, nothing is happening. My back is turned, and I am clearly occupied with something other than her. To make matters worse, she has a need I'm not responding to.

Or so she thinks. 


If Caroline was a little taller, she could see the truth—that I'm not ignoring her. Not only am I not ignoring her, but I'm actively working on her behalf. 

I’m a lot like Caroline. 

I’ve learned where to go when I have a need, and that’s a good thing. I approach my heavenly Father with a gentle tug and a whispered prayer or plea. If he doesn’t respond immediately, I become more insistent. 

Some days his silence makes me feel as though he’s turned his back on me and is deliberately ignoring my urgent demands. Other times, I must confess, I launch a full-blown tantrum, complete with thrashing and wails. 

Like Caroline, I have a limited perspective. 


Tethered to earth by my mortality, I cannot see into the spiritual realm, where God is always at work. I forget he is my advocate, my provider, and my deliverer. Spiritual amnesia robs my memory of all the times he’s come to my rescue, and I panic, forgetting that his timetable is different from my own. 

This is when I must rest in what I know, not in what I see. God’s Word tells me the truth—that he knows me, loves me, and promises to care for me all the days of my life. 

“Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you” (Isa. 46:4). 

What are you struggling with today? Trust God with it.

May this be our prayer: 

Father, help me trust you when I cannot see you. Help me remember all you’ve done for me in the past and wait patiently when your answer is long in coming. Grow my faith as I learn to depend on you. In the strong name of Jesus I pray, Amen.



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