I wish I were a suave, sophisticated Christian — someone who had it sort of spiritually together. I worship with a few and am totally overwhelmed by them. But if I’m honest, most days I’m more like a spiritual five year old than I care to admit. Let me explain.

I know truth. I know that God is great, good, merciful, slow to anger, unchangeable. I know that God is by nature and by desire my shepherd, fortress, rock, shelter, shield, father. I know, but in my stress and anxiety (which have been rather constant companions of late) I struggle to believe any of it. Not content to merely disbelieve and fully convinced that God can take it (but why should He??), I yell (usually metaphorically) my frustration and disbelief out to God accusing Him of neglect and usually threaten to walk out — I haven’t quite figured out where I would go exactly.

Where shall I go from your Spirit?
Or where shall I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!

I could make plenty of excuses. I could explain, truthfully, that I know enough about my treatment of almighty God to understand that to expect God to treat me with anything more than exasperation and despair is the height of arrogance. This has the advantage of sounding spiritual while being completely theologically bankrupt. The grim reality is I want God to do what I want Him to do, when I want Him to do it, how I want Him to do it. God, thankfully, is too wise and loving to work that way.

Let me tell you about my week. My car needed nearly $700 in repairs. Tuesday night meltdown — not about the car, but about everything. About many frustrations, changes, stressors God has allowed in my life right now, including the car! Thursday God provided enough money to cover the car expenses. His provision was sufficient, but the budget would have been tight — no worries — been there, done that. Friday my car spent the day at the shop. Friday I went to pay the bill for repairs and an anonymous someone had already paid. (What an unexpected blessing!!)

Let me be clear. God was under no obligation to help me with my repair bill. To be fair, I wouldn’t have helped me. The goodness of God isn’t in the temporal blessing of a car with working brakes — although that is certainly good. His goodness is still talking, still communicating to me in ways that are attention getting, irrefutable, immediate, powerful, and convincing even when (or perhaps especially when) my own ability to hear and understand are overwhelmed by sin, stress, and exhaustion. Providing above and beyond in this tangible manner, I think, is the divine equivalent of hugging a tantruming child until they finally calm down.

It isn’t elegant. It’s not dignified. At least, not for me. But doesn’t it just show up all the dazzling goodness of our good God! I’m so thankful to have a heavenly father who holds me while I flail. Who is teaching me to rest in His love through the sheer overwhelming persistence and presence of His goodness and mercy. Who listens to my ugly, self-centered tatrum and holds me close while he whispers in my ear, “Daughter, this is not the way of child of God behaves. Why are you fearful, ye of little faith? I’m here. Nothing can separate you from the love of God — not even you.”

The sad thing is that my life, compared to so many, is easy. I have dear friends traveling dark roads — unspeakably dark. I have no excuse for me. But God is good. He meets us where we are and leads us along. He is good. He leads in green pasture and still waters; He leads through the valley of the shadow of death. God is good. He leads us to where we must meet our enemy and then prepares us a table, a feast, even there. God is good — the simplest and most difficult truth to grasp.