God Is Good

After writing about being tired of casting seed without seeing much growth behind me, God reminded me last night of his love and mercy and grace.  Reminded me that it is not for me to demand or predict the growth, but simply to rejoice when it appears, and for however long it lasts.  Trusting him in this as in all things.

Thursday evenings for the last year and a half have  consisted of a family outreach of ours.  I go to pick up three ladies from the local women’s residential addiction recovery program and bring them over for dinner at our house. No agendas.  No expectations.  I know they are often guests at one function or another where they represent the house and the program.  They’re on display, ambassadors to future and current donors and those who pray for them that the program is working and is worthy and worth supporting.  But that’s not what we want from them.  It’s just a chance to be in a home with a family.  Something some of them have never had, or haven’t had in a long, long time.

Last night we had three women who were relatively new in the program, but something clicked with them.  They talked.  And talked. And talked.  Honestly.  Candidly.  About themselves and how hard it is to step away from the crutches of a bottle or pills you’ve relied on all your life to cope  with things.  How hard it is to live in a house with 20 other women.  Not being negative, but just honest.  Sensing as we sat around the table laughing or  in the living room after that this was a safe place.  A place where they could be honest without being worried about it being used against them in an environment full of people – including themselves – with a lifetime of experience in manipulation.

It was amazing to listen to them, to watch our kids listening, affirming them, reassuring them, encouraging them.  Recovery is a long, hard road, and the odds are stacked against them.  I don’t know what will happen to these three women.  Will they survive the year in the program and graduate?  Will they leave or get kicked out before then?  I don’t know.  I don’t know whether the seed cast in classrooms or in our home will get choked with weeds or snatched by birds or bear a crop 30, 60, or 100-fold.

But for the span of a couple of hours, my family and I got to see God the Holy Spirit at work, and nothing can take that experience away from us or those ladies.  Tangible, audible hope.  A reminder that it’s worth casting the seed.  Worth flinging it far and wide rather than trying to aim it for the ideal demographic or market segment.  Worth being reckless with, because the seed will never run out and never lose the potency of the Word of God that it is.  There is always reason to hope, to look anxiously and expectantly for the growth.  And always reasons to give thanks in those rare moments when we see it.

 

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