Recently I discovered this note. A remnant from my husband’s and my journey through the dark valley of unemployment. As I pulled it out of the drawer that it had hastily been stuffed into, memories washed over me. I’m glad that it got stuffed into that drawer, because I might have thrown it away back then. I probably wouldn’t have realized the significance of that simple piece of paper. But now, in hindsight, I know. I recognize this as a stone of remembrance. A way to look back and remember the tears I cried, the pain I felt and match it to the joy that Christ has restored in my life. This little scrap of paper is a way for me to celebrate God’s faithfulness.
It was written with tears streaming down my face. With utter despair filling my soul. My husband and I had taken a step of faith, following a very clear direction from God a year and a half earlier. And when I say step…I really mean enormous-leap-leave-your-paying-job-to-move-to-another-state-scared-outta-your-mind kinda thing! We had trusted Him to provide, leaning on His name Jehovah Jireh {The Lord Provides}. And then, when no job was provided, despite our efforts, we watched our savings dwindle to nothing and fought the fear that rose up and threatened to swallow us.
Battling daily to trust.
Battling to not look at our circumstances and only look up at our Savior’s face.
The note was written when eviction from our home was imminent. When all hope seemed lost. I had nothing left.
And yet I had everything left. I just couldn’t see it.
My faith, beaten down and bloodied, rose up with a gasping breath and I picked myself up off the kitchen floor. And I picked up a pen and wrote the note. It was a physical act of forcing my faith to not give up.
Sometimes I need to force my flesh into action in order to remind my spirit of what is true. I raise my arms up when I worship to remind my spirit of the magnitude and majesty of who I sing too. I find I am the most surrendered in prayer when I literally get down on my knees and feel the ground beneath me. And in that desperate moment, I physically wrote out my plea to my God on a paper…to remind my faith that He is my provider. No one else. Only Him.
I put that note up on my refrigerator and every time I looked at it I felt my faith rise a little. And here’s the most amazing part.
He did prove Himself faithful.
He did prove to me that His name is Jehovah Jireh. It was a month of unexpected, miraculous blessings. Groceries showed up on our doorstep, cash showed up taped to our door, and every cent that we needed came through. Every cent. No more, no less. It was shocking and beautiful to watch Him work. Without anything else to crowd Him out, He orchestrated our provision in ways that only He could. All of it enabled my faith not only to rise up, but to also put down deep roots.
We lived that way for 4 months, writing out the exact financial need on a note and putting it on our refrigerator. No job. No human way to make up that money. Nothing but faith. And each month He provided. Each month He proved His name to be true. And I will stand on that name until He takes me home.
Jehovah Jireh…My Lord Provides.
Kallie