in which i grumble on a monday morning

Our ice machine is broken. The email has crashed. Our car died. The basketball team my husband is coaching is losing. {Worse yet, it’s also my son’s team.} The bank account is dwindling away and we have more bills to pay. It’s beginning to sound like a sad, sad country song. Only thing worse would be if our dog cat died.

I woke this morning to the words of Habakkuk lamenting over his figless trees, failed crops, barren fields, and empty stalls. Somehow, in God’s grace he was able to rejoice and find joy where there seemed to be no visible joy. Hope flickers in my heart like a neon sign. If Habakkuk can hope in God, maybe I can too. JoY. jOY. JOY.

Where is my comfort on this chilly Colorado morning? I remind myself, as the catechism says, that my only comfort is that I am not my own, but belong with body and soul, both in life and in death, to my faithful Saviour Jesus Christ. That he also preserves me in such a way that without the will of my heavenly Father not a hair can fall from my head or an email from my computer or a point on the scoreboard or cash from the bank. Even ice cubes in the tray. He’s got it all.

Somehow in this, God is building me, building my family into His own. He’s remodeling us from the inside out until we’re who He wants us to be. He wants me happy, yes, but holy, too. And somehow in this, in Him, He does His work.

My grumbling. God’s glory.

“In him you also are being built together into a dwelling place for God by the Spirit.” Ephesians 2:22



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