This car shopping fiasco is really started to get to me. I knew that it would be hard to trust God this summer, but I had no idea how horribly monotonous and exhausting the trusting would become. One week after another, getting excited, being disappointed, second guessing God, second guessing myself, and then starting back at the beginning. Getting back on craigslist.com the day after another car fell through is like getting out of bed at four in the morning after three hours of sleep the night before - you know you have to do it, but what you wouldn't give to roll over and sleep until nine. One of those "not again" moments. It’s hard enough to do a difficult thing once, but at least then you have the propelling power of novelty. Once difficulties become monotony it’s like a sucker punch to the gut.
Anyway, car shopping has been hard. It's been really wearing me down all summer, and the last two weeks in particular, I've been getting very on edge and panicked as the deadlines start to be real dates instead of just “in the future.”
So last night I went to the beach with my mom, and as the tide started to come in, all these nasty creepy-crawlies started to pour out of the rocks we were sitting on and swarm over us. Well, maybe "poured" is strong... Maybe there were five or six spiders and twelve-legged things in all. But they crept and crawled very enthusiastically... Anyway, they had probably been cuddling under the rocks all day, and now the water was moving up and their homes were being totally washed out. It happened every day - the little creepy-homesteads (bear with me here...) got flooded and they evacuate. At first it was kind of funny, thinking about all the potential panic in crawly land as the waters rose, every - single - day ("Honey! Quick! Grab the photo albums!") and what a big deal it seemed to them. All this panic when it's just the tide, which rises every day, all over the world. Of course, it’s big to the spiders, because if they stay, they drown. But honestly – they’re just spiders.
Then that brought me to my car. All of a sudden, I saw how small my problem is. God has been watching wars and rumors of wars for thousands of years, and He thinks that that is small in perspective of eternity... so, apparently, there goes any hope of a sympathetic ear as I panic and stress and belabor the car issue. I can try and fake it to Him, and try to convince myself that having a car is really, really important, and prove that if I don’t have a car my spiritual walk will suffer and I won’t share the Gospel and thousands of souls will perish for eternity because of my lack of faith... due to not having a car... But it’s crap and I know it. It’s just a car.
Then out of nowhere came this verse:
“That is why I tell you not to worry about everyday life—whether you have enough food and drink, or enough clothes to wear. Isn’t life more than food, and your body more than clothing? Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren’t you far more valuable to him than they are? Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?”
Of course my car isn’t important. It’s not relevant in the historical scheme of history or even relevant to my own life in five years (or five months or five days). God acknowledges what we sometimes (rarely) realize, that every large and unbearable problem is, historically and eternally, small. “Life is more than food,” He scolds, “and your body more than clothing.”
But He still provides.
“And why worry about your clothing? Look at the lilies of the field and how they grow. They don’t work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are. And if God cares so wonderfully for wildflowers that are here today and thrown into the fire tomorrow, he will certainly care for you."
God knows exactly what we need to hear. He knows that sometimes our problems seem huge and sometimes they seem so ridiculous and meaningless. And His comfort is not to reassure us that yes, we are the center of the universe, and that yes, our problem are giNORmus, but to smile, and tell us that yes, our problems really are as silly as the crawlies flailing out of their unstable homestead as the waters come up every day. Our problems really are as simple as lilies and sparrows. But despite this - He still provides. The size of our problem doesn't determine God's providence. His goodness does. His goodness is not limited to large populations or presidential campaigns or even to the human race. He is good because He is a good God, and that spills into sparrows and crawlies and lilies and lost cameras and broken relationships and GPAs... and cars.
"So do not worry, little flock, for it gives the Father great happiness to give you the kingdom."
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