[I'm still finding words for my next How to Really Live post. It's been one of those days. This is what I need to say today.]
I punched the numbers into the calculator again.
Tension from hours of accounting were taking their toll.
I pushed back my computer, put my head on the desk
And I cried.
No matter how hard I manipulate or speculate, I can’t make it work on paper. I can’t figure out how we will sustain nearly $4000 a month of donations to run the Mercy House in Kenya, Africa. We’ve had great success with fundraisers in the last four months, but sustaining $50,000 a year and more, year after year, seems impossible, not to mention exhausting.
Things just don’t add up.
I’m not going to lie: I didn’t want any of this. And the burden, the responsibility, literally drives me to my knees on a regular basis. When I feel the room close in and my breath comes in short panicky gasps, I realize I’m trying to figure this great big God-idea out on my own.
I left the piles of papers on my desk, turned out the lamp and closed the bathroom door behind me. As hot water filled the tub, silent tears fell. I crumbled.
And then He spoke: “If things added up, you wouldn’t need Me. Leave room for me, Kristen. Let me do the work.”
So. Here’s the picture: You have me-weak mortal, carpooling Mom, blogger-turned-crazy-dreamer, trying to add up numbers that don’t exist and feeling responsible for creating something out of nothing.
And then you have God, creator of all and in all, building a house of mercy in Africa, known for turning nothing into something. He has a plan, a purpose, a path.
He asks us to be the hands of His work so our faith will grow. And when things do not seem possible, He is glorified when they become possible.
In jumping into the unknown, I am being stretched beyond my comfort. When people try to commend us for obeying God, I want to say, He knew we needed this journey. He knew we needed to dive into something that lacks our complete control. He knew it would grow us. He knew we couldn’t do it on our own. He knew we would have to leave room for Him.
When things don’t add up.
And so I ask, what isn’t adding up in your life?
- What are you desperately trying to control?
- Do you wonder how your marriage will survive it’s current crisis?
- How will you pay the bills?
- When will your wayward child come home?
- How will you survive this cancer?
I urge you and remind myself as I type the words–
Leave. Room. For. God.
Because He will be glorified in our inability to figure it all out.
**I’d love for you to read an update on Maureen’s amazing training at the Ethiopian maternity home!