The Lord says, “Don’t harden your hearts as Israel did at Meribah, as they did at Massah in the wilderness.” Psalm 95:8
The Israelites were so convinced that God couldn’t deliver them that they simply lost their faith in him.
How could they possibly lose their faith? They had witnessed the tangible, mighty, magnificent power of God when He rescued them out of slavery in Egypt, spared their lives during the Passover, and then parted a huge body of water in order for them to pass through to safety on the other side. They had physically witnessed His strength and ability to accomplish something human minds could never even imagine.
Even still, they doubted.
They fell into despair. Their desert wanderings led them to believe God had simply looked away or maybe He couldn’t manage this one thing. Yes, He led them out of slavery but somehow He wasn’t capable of now leading them to the safety and abundance of the Promised Land.
This verse, Psalm 96:8, jumped off the page in church on Sunday. As I prayed over a hard relationship – one that I am very careful to share about because it’s so very complicated and hard and personal – I knew God was telling me that I, like the stubborn, messy, broken, human Israelites, had hardened my heart.
If you know our story, you know that God performed some pretty mighty, Red-Sea-parting kind of miracles to bring our daughter home from her birth country where she was essentially being held hostage for two years. See the similarity there? Delivered out of bondage — over a sea — miraculously.
Our story continues to mirror the Israelites in the way we hoped the shores on the other side of that sea would bring rest and abundance and healing. We didn’t expect the desert wanderings. We didn’t expect the bitter aftermath of intense trauma. We didn’t expect the days to turn to months and then to years of wandering. We didn’t expect to walk such a hard road toward wholeness.
And, I certainly didn’t expect to harden my heart.
The hurt and the rejection and attachment setbacks have a way of piling on stone on top of stone. One at a time. Day by day. Prayers and tears and more prayers and more tears. Slowly, discouragement begins to replace hope, and acceptance of brokenness replaces heartfelt prayers for wholeness.
But, God.
We serve a God who refuses anything less than abundant life for His babies. He gathers us like a tender-hearted daddy and points us back toward Himself. He brings a tribe of warrior mommas into our lives to pray relentlessly. He causes a verse to jump off of the page, not to condemn, but to point to truth. A timely, necessary reminder to never allow a hardened heart. A reminder to fight against the lies and doubt. A reminder that He never looks away. A reminder that He never gives up. A reminder of who He is – He always pursues and can turn all things for good.
The thing I love most about God is the way He shows His hand. He wants us to know who wins in the end. He doesn’t want us to doubt. He wants us to love recklessly and fiercely even when that love may feel unwanted and unreturned.
Sometimes, He gives us tangible reminders of His love, His working, His healing, His justice.
Sometimes, those reminders are in the form of an unexpected drawing in response to the question:
What are you most thankful for?
As we drew our pictures side by side, I leaned over and asked about her drawing. She explained it was a picture of her and I (holding bathing suits and purses;)). I scooped her up and covered her in kisses as my tears freely fell.
I’m framing this one. It’s may look like a simple drawing with crayons, but I see something much more significant. I see a beautiful picture of redemption and hope.
