Breathing in His Promises
"There you saw how the Lord your God carried you, as a father carries his son, all the way you went until you reached this place.” Deuteronomy 1:30-31
Talking to my blue fish has become the norm these days. I appreciate that he’s the kind of guy who’d never leave dirty socks on the floor. And, he never asks things like, “Mommy, why do you laugh like a seal?” He’s such a gentleman.
Every week he graciously swims into my little net to be transferred to clean water.
But, yesterday! He gave the biggest attitude.
He wouldn’t get into the net and it wasn’t funny! If he didn’t want this water, he was welcome to the toilet I scrubbed earlier.
I kept banging around the bowl trying to corner him, “Seriously fish! Trust me. I don’t want you to get sick!”
My heart winced. I was on the verge of being sick, too--spiritually sick. I knew it, and God was getting my attention. I was all bent out of shape over this fish not letting me save it from poop water, while I defiantly swam in my own refuse.
Recently, I expected God to move in a certain way in my life--and He didn’t. I was heartbroken.
It seems I’d rather be submerged in disappointment than be transferred into God’s perspective of my circumstances. I was "over" it. Over praying. Over crying. Over...whelmed.
Still, here was God, trying to rescue me. “Seriously child! Trust me. I don’t want you to get sick!”
God’s love has never failed me. He’s carried me, like "a Father carries a son," out of every "Egypt" and wilderness I’ve faced. Why was I banging my head against the bowl trying to escape rescue?
If I enter into God’s saving net, He’ll raise me up into a pocket of air called the unknown.
Let’s be honest, breathing in the unknown can hurt.
I captured that stubborn fish in the net. He wriggled in desperation, gasping until I plopped him safely into clean water.
When we’re scooped up into God’s purposes, we don’t have to mimic a suffocating fish. If it feels like we can’t breathe, it’s because we’re choking on lies.
Here is the truth: God isn’t going to flush us down the toilet.
We can enter into the unknown, clinging confidently to the known.
We know our God is good!
Abandoning the mire and surrendering to hope elevates us to a new atmosphere. Like those who train to climb Mt. Everest, it will stretch and challenge the lungs of our faith. The air is thin and burns our chest.
Yet, our Father teaches us a new way to breathe. Instead of gasping on lies, we deeply inhale his promises.
One by one.
He loves us. He lifts us higher.
He fights for us. We grow stronger.
He’s with us. We have peace.
Crawl into the palm of his hand. Our tender, mighty God will always deliver us to a place of hope and beauty.
by Jenna Masters