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I stocked up today. Almond butter, stevia, coconut oil, honey...I walked out of the store with two, very heavy bags of kitchen staples. And I sighed in contentment as I put the groceries in my cupboard. There's this feeling you get, when you have plenty on hand.

Satisfied. Peace. Rest. Ease.

I have no need to fear.

I also have no need to trust.

See, that's the bad thing about stocked cupboards. A plentiful supply requires no expectation for God to pull through. Furnishing my own kitchen threatens to take the role of provider away from God. Faith is not deepened when there's no desperation for Jehovah Jirah to fill my mouth.

It's not a problem with plenty of goods, stocked cupboards, or buying your own groceries. It's a problem with my heart. When my cupboards are full, I forget to trust God.

The Israelites were taught a lesson about stocked cupboards. It resulted in manna and quail sent down from heaven. Every single day. Faithfully, God provided for their needs. And yet, the yearning to stock up crept into the heart of God's people. But the "leftovers" were never good to eat the following day. It was a lesson of trust. Would the Israelites depend on God to fill them? Would they follow God's command? Would the Israelites rely on God's provision?  Would they trust God to keep His promises?

It's a lesson I'm learning today. Today is a battle, a testing, a learning of a lesson. Trust. This journey calls me to keep looking to Christ. It's hard to not strive to stock up. I fight the lures to accumulate more, to create a safe, plush nest, and instead expect God to provide like only He can.
I doubt my cupboards will fill with maggots tomorrow morning. Yet, part of me would be okay with that. I am confident that God will take care of me. Yes, my future is unknown. But I am not secure and safe based on my kitchen cupboard, refrigerator, or bank account.

He alone is my Supplier, my Satisfaction, and my Shelter.

complexity

Hello's. Goodbye's.
That's what this week is about. Two very common, every day kind of words. Greeting. Fairwell. New. Old. Begin. End. Rejoice. Mourn. Birth. Death.

I read once that the central image of the Christian faith is death and rebirth, that the core of it all, over and over again, is death and rebirth. This week, I'm thinking about death and rebirth. Friday, I said 'hello' for the first time to my new, precious nephew. That same day I said 'goodbye' for the last time to my lovely, elderly neighbor.

Hello. Goodbye.

I'm the kind of person who cares a lot about the conversation that takes place between those two words. I invest emotionally into the lives of those around me. Mostly because many years ago, my volleyball coach spoke Romans 12:15 into my life: "Rejoice with those who rejoice. Mourn with those who mourn." So that's what I do: I rejoice and I mourn. I feel from the heart. I love deeply. I cry tears. I laugh loudly.

Celebration. Grief.

This week is about hello's and goodbye's. It's about change. Good and bad. It's about a call. A call to believe in something despite how I feel. I don't feel like God can use the grief. I don't feel like ninety-one years is long enough. I don't feel like the bitter parts of life are necessary.

But this week, I'm choosing to believe in something despite how I feel.

Shauna Niequist once wrote, "I know that death is real, and I trust that rebirth is real, too."

That's what I'm believing in. Rebirth. Life. Hope. Promises. Light. Beauty.

Yes, there's still death. There's still sadness and despair in the heart. There is darkness in the brokenness. But, Easter has come. Reunions exist. The sun sets, but then it rises. I trust that the changes of life show me God's graciousness, not life's cruelty.

So when I watch the coffin lid close Thursday, I will look down at the newborn in my arms and cry. What a complex, deep, beautiful world I'm living in...