Big God, Little Me

Sometimes I have to make myself acknowledge God hugeness.

I have to picture the world and the surrounding cosmos and force my brain to wrap around the vast greatness of the God who listens as I whine about the frustrations of my day.

Not because I don't think God wants to hear me, but because I think that He must, surely He must, sometimes want to roll His eyes and say, "MAN UP."  

Well, I don't really believe that God says that, but certainly I know I think it to myself sometimes.   

How tiny my problems must seem to the same God who set the hands of time.  How trivial my cries must be compared to those who are suffering with disease, persecution or far greater loss than I have ever known.

How can I seek God for my frustrations when I should be giving those who really need Him the floor?

Truth is, though, God explains that He does care about our lives.

1st Peter 5:7 says: “Cast all your anxiety on Him, because he cares for you.”  

What does it mean to cast our anxiety on Him?  

I once thought we could toss our problems to God and life would suddenly fall into place.

Now I see it just a little differently. God is not a genie on my shoulder who will grant my wishes, but He is my great and constant guide who will teach me how to live, and once I begin to this constant walk then life will really start to fall in place.

Every problem and every sorrow is a challenge to become better servants.

There is an opportunity to seek God and follow Him in life's tiniest (or biggest) frustrations and it isn't usually the easiest solution.

But then again, growing pains always hurt.

The most painful growth spurts happen through self-evaluation.  When God gives conviction--and we should regularly ask for it--it brings a willingness to own up problems we cause ourselves.

A big one for me was as a homemaker.  

I have never been Susie, and searching through my family tree, I have not even found a distant relative to her.

Housework overwhelms me quickly and I would usually rather hide from it than tackle it.  I took this lack of capability to mean I could throw my hands up and blame my own inadequacies for the state of the house.  

I was refusing to acknowledge this as a challenge to seek God.  

One day, though, I went to God and asked Him for conviction.  Not for this specifically, but anything  I needed to face I was to hear.  

This was when I began to see things differently. 

The next morning my husband was searching for clean socks at 4:30am when he left for his 12-hour day at a hot job--or cold depending on the elements--to support our family.  Before my talk with God I would take this opportunity to feel sorry for myself; whoa is me, such a horrible wife.

It wasn't my fault---I am just not good at it.

Then God showed me the challenge.  

It isn't about if I am good at it; it is about being there for those who need me.  Going out of my way for him and for our children to make sure that our life runs smoother, and for this I have to rely on God to show me how.

God has called me to be a wife and a mother, and like Moses who felt inadequate for the job God gave him, I have suddenly realized that I am capable only through God.

This applies to my job, to cooking, to cleaning, to shopping and to stretching our grocery budget as far as I can. All of these things mean I must sacrifice my time and desires.  My writing time, my Facebook time, my dinners out with friends must all be reigned under control in order to make sure that I am doing what is best for those I love.

Wow...what God was really convicting me about was not my homemaking skills.

He showed me my own selfish heart.

This has been where my conviction was placed, and God has used it to lean on Him and to grow in my servitude to my family which means growing in my servitude Him. To put my desires on the back burner and to learn self-control has suddenly given me a new perspective on my relationship with God.

The closer I get to Him, the higher I will jump at His will.

God, the same one who set the stars in place, has set me on my path.  The same God who opened the eyes of the blind has opened my eyes to a different way of living, a better way.

He is big enough to care about the greatest sufferings, and tend the smallest needs.  Suddenly it all makes sense, though.  He couldn't do all of this if He were small.

A big God, and most of all, a good God, is the only one who can.

Meg Duncan