The church we attended gave each of our children a
warm coat, but not just a warm coat. Beautiful coats. Coats they would wear for
years to come.They also gave the kids new bed pillows.You wouldn’t think such
a gift would excite children, but they were needed, our children appreciative.
Our oldest son was in Iraq, and this same body of believers sent a care package
to him. Many families in the church sent gift cards for us to buy Christmas for
the kids.What a loving and thoughtful group of people.We were blessed to know them.
God doesn't always use a mailbox to send blessings...
But our problems were bigger than those who loved us.
For the first time in more than twenty-five years of marriage, my husband was without employment. The calendar on the kitchen fridge flapped each time I passed, a reminder that
the rent was due. We had needs no one could conceive, and we were helpless to
do anything but pray.
Instead of meeting those needs, God seemed distant. His word to us always the same, Work for me. Work for me. So each
morning, we used our dwindling cash for gasoline, drove to our church, and
worked there as though we were employed. We had vision for a family and children’s
ministry and spent days, cleaning, organizing, painting, and preparing.
Late one
evening a truck pulled into the yard and began backing to our front porch. Two
sweet people from the church hopped out and began unloading a dining room suit.
We were overwhelmed. This couple, in the real-estate business, had sold a home
in which the owners had left behind a table, chairs, and china cabinet to be
given away.
Only God knew I’d always wanted a china cabinet. I
had never told a single person. That evening after the kids fell asleep I took
my china out of storage boxes and carefully placed each piece into the lighted
cabinet. Finished, I turned the house lights off and stood back. Lovely. But my
thoughts were not so lovely. Lacking the beauty of faith and dependence, tears
welled in my eyes, and I whispered, “Lord, why would you give me a china
cabinet and no house to live in?” I was as fragile as one of my china cups. The fear of moving to a homeless shelter
loomed even as a rumble of laughter escaped my throat at the thought of the
question.
After I crawled into bed, my husband told me we
would have to try and sell the dining room suit. My shoulders sunk as I looked
him in the eye. I choked up and tears prickled. “That was a personal gift from my Father. Only He knew what it
meant. He's trying to tell us something. We can’t sell it. We just can’t. This was my Christmas present.”
The next morning, we rose early to work at the
church. As I climbed into the van and reached for my seat belt, my husband leveled his gaze on mine and said, “Aren’t you going to get our rent money from the mailbox?”
God doesn't always use a mailbox to send blessings...
I eyed him right back, and my ire rose. He was being sarcastic. His practical mind
screamed to sell the dining room suit, and I stood in his way. I snatched the stack of letters from the
mailbox and returned to the van. A Christmas card stood out among the bills. As
I tore it open, my jaw went slack. There was a check for $2,000 dollars inside
the card. This money came from people
who called themselves secret agents. Believers, who hardly knew us at all, they
lived in another state and were not privy to our circumstances.
Sometimes God uses a mailbox...
Everything was paid and on time. But our living
conditions were not changed. Another month rolled by, and bills came due a
second time. God kept saying, Work for
me. Work for me. A second envelope came in the mail that
month. This letter was from another
family who lived in a totally different state. We had not heard from these
people in years. And inside the letter was a check for $2,200 dollars. God gave
us a raise. Another month passed and
bills came due. This time God gave Randy a job that paid nineteen dollars an
hour.
God didn’t help us because of our service to the
church. God didn’t help us because we had adopted children, or because we
homeschooled. God didn’t help because we
were special, or because we held a rare measure of faith. The opposite was true.
No. Our
Father wants to freely give. And as we admire qualities of hard work, loyalty,
and growth in our own children, so does He. But He gives unconditionally
because He’s Daddy. The work at the church was to keep us occupied in a good
thing while He worked on our financial miracles. What was this truly about? Our
level of trust was challenged.
You see, the provisions were always present and
on their way before we could see or touch them.
It’s humbling to share about our needy times, but
it’s exhilarating to share what God is willing and able to do for His kids. What
have you walked through that confirms He is real and holds your hand?
