“Therefore, I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? …
“See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labour or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendour was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith?” (verses 25, 28-30)
-
“O you of little faith.” I read that line and knew the Lord was speaking to me. Would I simply trust?
It was almost 20 years ago. I’d been pastoring the church I’d grown up in for close to 25 years and was now 48 years of age. In the previous year I’d had the conviction the Lord was telling me it was time to leave home. (About time, some of you might well say!) I thought he would show me where I was going, before having me move on from where I was. But apparently not. I had the growing sense he simply wanted me to resign and trust him for what would be next, without being able to see it myself first. Don’t they say that faith is “the conviction of things not seen”? I felt pressed in that direction, but wasn’t happy about it.
Indeed, I was sweating. I’d committed to giving the church’s leadership a decision about my next steps by the end of the summer. It was now the final Saturday of August and I felt completely stuck, stressed, unsettled. At the same time, I was preparing a sermon for the next morning, and my study led me to this very passage. It wasn’t actually the passage I would be preaching from, but it was certainly the passage the Lord was preaching to me.
“O you of little faith.”
I knew that was my issue. The Lord was asking me to “get out of the boat,” to step out on the unstable surface of rolling waves, and simply trust. I’d said I had faith. But the fact is, faith is much easier when there’s a regular paycheque to provide for wife and kids (all four). It’s another thing entirely to trust when the paycheque ends. That’s where I was being led. Would I trust the Lord to care for us just as he cares for the grass of the fields and the birds of the air? Would I?
The stress was real. My wife was much braver than I. So, we stepped out together, simply trusting. I resigned and waited on the Lord for my next assignment, which didn’t come for another five months. Meanwhile, from a completely unexpected source, the Lord provided finances to carry us through that season. Simply amazing. Faith was stretched, but profoundly strengthened.
I look back on that time and am so thankful. This “trust-testing teaching” from Jesus was proven true in my own experience. I didn’t need to worry, even though the circumstance seemed so precarious. The Lord was leading, so all that was left to me was simply to trust.
There will be further moments. Questions will still spring up: “What shall we eat? What shall we drink? What shall we wear?” But my Father in heaven knows I need these things. I’m in good hands.
He cares for the birds. He clothes the meadows. I’ll continue to throw in my lot with him.
-
Father, thank you for all of your provisions. I’ve experienced so much of your care. You know my needs and you provide. Please, then, strengthen me with memory in those moments when I find faith stretched and stress rising. I will look to you. I will trust you yet again.
-
Reflect: Look back. When have you experienced the Lord’s unexpected provision? Bring it to mind. Give him thanks. Commit your needs to him afresh.
-
Photo by Liane Metzler on Unsplash
Comments