Obedience

 

Image by stempow from Pixabay

After my third husband passed away, I planned to live the rest of my life alone, but as I have written before, God had other plans.

When He orchestrated the meeting with the man He intended me to marry, I didn’t understand. This man didn’t believe in attending church. In fact, his opinion was jaded from dealing with pastors and other so-called-Christians during his law enforcement career. My previous husbands were devout men, but God took them from me, and now He wanted me to marry a man who was opposed to attending church?

God answered my question in an unusual way.

I went to lunch with a friend. She invited a woman whom I had never met, stating her friend asked to speak with me. She had an answer to my question. "Read 1 Peter: 3:1.”

I frowned. What question was she referring to? I’d not said a word about anything personal.

Puzzled, I opened my Bible the moment I returned home.

“In like manner also let wives be subject to their husbands: that if any believe not the word, they may be won without the word, by the conversation of the wives.”

Even so, I was unwilling to continue in a relationship where I had to hide my faith, and I shared my faith testimony with my soon to be husband. It shook him to the core, and he broke off our relationship. I was devastated. How could I have been so wrong to believe this was the man God wanted me to marry?

Later that evening, my soon to be husband came to the house and asked to talk. “I love you too much too lose you. Although, I do not share your faith, I promise to never stand in the way of you practicing your faith and attending church.”

 Deciding to obey God despite my confusion, I accepted my husband’s proposal. He has been a wonderful partner and companion, and has never broken his promise to support my faith. In return, I prayed for his conversion for twenty-two years.

A year ago, to my surprise, my husband announced he would escort me to church. He was sure some of the men were flirting with me. While flattering he thought I was still attractive enough to draw that kind of attention. I assured him no one was flirting. He still insisted he’d attend with me. I agreed, figuring getting him inside a church for any reason was a good start.

For the first year, he brought a book and read during the service. Then one Sunday, he didn’t bring his book but remained sitting during the songs of praise. Six months later, he stood when we sang. Earlier this year, he announced he wanted a Bible. He sat for over an hour researching Bibles with a retired pastor with whom he had become acquainted at our church. After deciding on one, he followed through and ordered it.

Last Sunday, my husband took communion. It was hard not to express my joy. (He'd be embarrassed if I drew attention.) But I couldn't stop a few tears. 

Later at home, I privately congratulated him on taking communion.

His response, “It felt right.”

It took twenty-plus years, but God fulfilled His promise. But doesn’t He, always?

Thank you, Lord, for giving me the faith to obey when I didn’t understand and the strength to keep praying even as the years continued to pass with no hint of answered prayer. Amen. 

In Time

Based on my personal experience, I believe there are several factors involved in the timing of God’s answers. My first understanding of God's timing came in in a dream (The Bus). Other life experiences added to that lesson and I came to the following conclusions. 

First, there may be others in involved in our request, and since each of us is free to accept God’s will, or reject it, the prayer might not be answered, or it may take a long time for the other heart to soften and finally relinquish their will to His. God is patient. He’ll wait. Then, we must wait.

The other option, we may be the stumbling block. Maybe we aren’t ready and God in His wisdom will not grant a prayer we aren’t capable of handling. He’ll send difficulties and trials, conditioning us until we are ready.

The Turkey - A Re-Post in Honor of Thanksgiving

We were flat broke with several more days to payday. With three kids to feed and a pantry nearly bare, things looked pretty grim. I mentioned my concern to a close friend at work.

"Remember when God paid your insurance? If He will do that, he will surely feed your family as well. Trust Him."

She then told me this story.  A flood ravaged a small community, forcing many residents onto their roofs to await rescue. One man stood in ankle deep water and prayed to God, begging to be rescued. God promised He would.

 A rescue helicopter flew over and lowered a rope. The man waved them off. God was going to rescue him and he didn’t need the helicopter. The crew shook their heads at the man’s foolishness and moved off in search of other victims.

 
Two men in a rowboat stopped and offered to help. He refused them. Again stating God was going to rescue him.

A surge of water swept the man off the roof, and he drowned. Standing before God he asked why He hadn’t saved him as He promised.

God replied, “I sent you a helicopter and a row boat, what more did you want?”                                                                                                                 Author Unknown

I thought about the story as I drove home that afternoon. Okay, whatever God sent my way, by whatever means, I would not decline the offer. I would accept a helicopter or a rowboat. 

I didn't expect God to send me a turkey.

A twenty-pound turkey, thawed and ready to cook sat in my kitchen sink. I knew it didn't just materialize. Someone had put it there. Only one person, besides the family, who had a key to the house, was my mother.

I called her and listened to a story almost as amazing as if the bird had materialized out of thin air.

Several days prior, the freezer belonging to a woman neither of us knew malfunctioned and everything thawed. Most of the food the woman could either cook or transfer to the freezer in her refrigerator, but the twenty-pound turkey wouldn't fit. Rather than deal with it, she offered it to a neighbor. The neighbor accepted it, then decided she didn't want it. She passed it to a friend. That friend passed it on to someone else. 

The bird traveled from home to home across town, finally reaching my mother. My dad hated turkey, but Mother knew my family liked it. So, she accepted it on my behalf and brought it down to the house just before I arrived. By that time, the bird was completely thawed and ready to cook. Dinner would be late, but there certainly would be plenty.

And now, every Thanksgiving when I look at the turkey, I see images of helicopters, rowboats, and a turkey in my kitchen sink. I bow my head and say, "Thank you."