Believe

“Believe”is painted on the side of my coffee cup. Although my cup is full to brimming with a decaffeinated brew my hope tank seems to be dangerously low this morning.

I take in a deep breath of the “stress away” essential oil I just rubbed on my wrists. The B vitamin I took earlier hasn’t seemed to kick in yet to give me the uplifted feeling I had hoped for. My hair was supposed to be full of smoothly ironed curls today, but they ended up looking fuzzy and flat. It is a Thursday morning.

As I sit here in this little booth typing these words as the early morning sunlight pours through the tall window I am nestled up against, I ask myself, “what is it you believe in?”  It is the belief I carry that governs my life.

If you were to peek into an average day of my life what would you see? Several words float to the surface quickly: sprinter, juggler, winger. It seems the alarm goes off and the rest of the day is met with a vigorous sprint to keep up. In my arms at any given moment are more items than I can possibly carry. Although I may be overwhelmed life creates opportune moments for action ready or not. When I am not ready my efforts feel faulty and less than expected, but I am afraid this is life.

We wake up in the morning thinking we have a plan, but the day unfolds to show who the real master is. Will my plan win or will circumstance? As I sit sipping my Café au lai, I think circumstance won today. Or at least up until 9:35AM. I believe regardless of how I feel or if my plans go on without a hitch, God is in control of my life.

On the gray days when my outlook is bleak this belief keeps me moving. This belief keeps me looking out for others. This belief keeps me hoping for more. All of us are handed the same 24 hours to live. I choose to spend mine in faith. Now, this morning I didn’t feel faithful, but more doubtful that is how feelings are. In fact, it wasn’t until I started writing this blog that hope began to rise again. Blah Blah Blah…I am rambling.

Ok, I am going to roll up my sleeves for a moment and lean in close, so close you can see the imperfections on my skin and see the smudged mascara under my eyes. I have been crying a lot lately. Because life has been looking different than what I expected. I have withdrawn into myself because I feel uncomfortable that my belief has been tampered with by circumstance, so I need to have it out right now.

I believe that Jesus is real because when I was sixteen I sat on my floor in front of the mirror in my room trying to rehash the top ten list of people I hate, but as I tried to get angry an invisible hand rested on my back and peace began to flood through my soul...His redemption.

I believe he is real because when I was twenty years old and serving on a drama team at a bible camp I saw him in the sunset as I sat alone on a bridge out on the lake. I was reading “because your love is better than life I will praise you” from Psalm 63:3. Such a love filled my heart I have served Him for the next 19 years in both good and bad times always remembering that day.

I believe he is real because I have seen him answer prayers in specific ways that couldn’t be a coincidence. I have felt his healing power. I have seen him calm the broken heart. I have experienced his forgiveness and I have given that same forgiveness to others.

“Believe” is not just written on my sweatshirt or painted on my cup, but it is written on every line of my story and every scar of my heart. It is sung to my children and it is etched in my journal. It is signed in my letters and it is conveyed in my hugs. There is not a moment I am far from my Savior even when my heart is discouraged. So dear little heart keep beating, keep believing. It what makes you true.