Maybe it’s been partly the aftermath of my grandma’s death, the sometimes unconscious grieving that affects us beneath the surface. Maybe it was partly still being tired, as our whole family is, from the strain of the past month. And I kept filling my mind and heart with other things—good things, like writing and good books and laughter and talking with family, and not-so-good things, like worrying about life’s problems and trying to control them—but not letting myself just be quiet, be still and listen to Jesus.
But it was good to be back in church this Sunday. Nothing obviously amazing happened. But I sat, and listened to the strum of the guitar and hum of the accordion in our worship band, and got a little teary as we sang the Doxology, which we sang around my grandma’s bed just after she went to glory, and Great is Thy Faithfulness, which we sang at her funeral. I listened to the background cries and squeals of the many babies and toddlers in our “young family majority” church, which always seem more a comfort, a blessing and reminder of Jesus’ response to these little ones, than a distraction to me. The sermon was good, on sanctification, but I felt unable to take it in fully. Yet, amid it all, one message came through to me clear: God is here.
He is here, present with us. Emmanuel. Somehow I’d lost sight of that reality—not that I didn’t believe it, but I wasn’t thinking about or living in it. And somehow, that was enough to settle my distracted and weary heart. Though new heartaches and trials and stresses seem to crop up as soon as we think we’ve conquered one, He is here. He will never leave or forsake us. He is God.
And sometimes, that is enough.
“Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth! The LORD of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge.” ~Psalm 46:10-11