“If you knew the gift of God, and who is saying to you, “Give me a drink,” you would ask Him, and He would give you living water.”

–John 4:10

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There’s a lot more than I’m used to going on right now.

As we push out of survival mode and into the direction we’ve been given, I often wrestle with fear that it’s all too much and I hoped a little too big.

We bought land and built a driveway, expecting to move to the forest and use it pour into people. But so far, we’ve felt unexpected leading to wait on construction. I thought we’d be building a house now. Instead, we are building a bench. A place to sit in the quiet and meet with the Lord.

It’s a solid place to start. That’s the whole heartbeat of the project. But I also thought more of a plan would have come together at this point, and it’s easy for me to strain over why we don’t have in place the clarity, direction, and resources to be doing more yet. I’m content to just walk forward and do the next thing. I can be okay with waiting or with the Lord doing something entirely different. We’re His and so is the land. I just wish I knew what to expect. Sometimes, I ache for the answers.

I’m preparing to travel overseas, to pass on or pack up our belongings. To grieve and to encourage. To try to love on our team there, say goodbye well, and press into what’s next whole-heartedly. I’m trying to set my family up for when I’m gone, homeschooling my first grader, driving kids to appointments and classes, balancing training with our new role with continuing to serve at the Homes Garage. The scan to check if my tumor has come back is next week, my son’s brain scan is a few days later, the plants are dying and need water, my kids put a towel in the oven, we’re potty training and I’m mopping up an accident while teaching addition.

And then my three-year-old hid my keys. (I think).

By morning, I still hadn’t found them, I had forgotten to ask Cody to leave me his truck key before he left for work, it was time to leave for an appointment, I’m getting shoes on the kids, my calls aren’t going through, and it was bucketing rain. I needed my keys and I couldn’t find them and my full plate felt like it was starting to crack. Ever been there?

Is it the keys I really need? Is it the answers?

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I’ve been going through the Gospels over the last month and paying attention to people’s objections when Jesus invited, offered, or told them to do something.

Jesus: “Peter, go out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.”

Peter: “Lord, we’ve worked hard all night and caught nothing, but if you say so…” (Luke 5:5)

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Jesus: “Would you like to get well?”

Sick Man at Bethesda: “I can’t, for I have no one to put me into the pool!” (John 5:2-9)

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Disciples: “This is a remote place, it’s getting late, send the crowds away.”

Jesus: “that won’t be necessary, you feed them.”

Disciples: “But we only have 5 loaves and two fish!”

Jesus: “Bring them to me.” (Matthew 14:15-18)

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Over and over, I saw people identify that their supply was exhausted and that what they needed was out of reach. Just like I do. Over and over, people missed that the One they were talking to WAS what they needed. Just like I do.

My favorite was the woman at the well:

Jesus: “If you only knew the gift God has for you and who you are speaking to, you would ask me, and I would give you living water.”

Woman: “But sir, you don’t have a rope or a bucket, and this well is very deep. Where would you get this living water?” (John 4:10-11)

Can you imagine? The One who holds the oceans in the palm of his hand offered to give her living water, and she told Him He actually couldn’t be of help because He didn’t have a bucket.

She told God He couldn’t reach what she needed. Just like I do.

But He caused fish to swarm their nets, He cured a thirty-eight year illness without moving the man to the pool, and He satisfied thousands of guests from one boy’s lunch without running out for refills.

And He had the stories of what He did written down over and over for us to rehearse, because through them, He says, “You don’t actually need to reach what’s over there. I’m right here. You don’t need the pool. You need me. It doesn’t matter how deep that well is, I am the wellspring of life. I don’t need a rope or a bucket, or a new fishing spot, or fresh, rested workers. I don’t need to go get more ingredients, I don’t need to be able to reach the shops, I don’t need more than what you have right here and right now. You might need a breather, but I don’t. Because I am your supply. It’s me. I’m here. I am what you need. Don’t tell me what I can’t do. Just ask me to help.”

I’ve been fighting feelings of overwhelm, lack and confusion. I’m hitting the limits of what I can predict or expect, and realizing over and over that I just don’t have the control or power to bring about what I’m hoping for. But the more I’ve gotten to know mature believers, the more I realize many of them are also carrying question marks toward what’s ahead.

Our culture hates a question mark. We cherish specific, measurable, attainable goals with a deadline. We love a plan we can wrap our minds around. We’re more comfortable with a God who needs to use a bucket and rope to reach water, just like we do, maybe just a little stronger. We don’t know what to do with the real thing.

But I’m realizing those question marks are not a problem. They’re the mark of humility. They’re the mark of a soft heart that’s willing to change course as the Spirit leads. They’re the mark of wisdom that has learned we serve a God that is beyond our understanding, and with all we have learned about Him, we still cannot fathom what He will do next.

And so I will fight my temptation to object when He leads me somewhere confusing and I don’t see the supplies I think I’ll need. I can respond with an objection or with a question mark. With a demand or with humility.

Will I say, “But you don’t have a bucket!”
Or will I say, “Lord, this is a question mark for me. I have no idea how you are going to give me water, even without a bucket. But I know you don’t need one. Please be my supply. Please help.”

As I take stock of the pressures and worries of my heart, where do I object? Where am I telling God that He doesn’t have a bucket? Where am I complaining that what I need is out of reach? What would it look like to let go of needing to understand when and how He’s going to fix it, to mark that situation with a question mark, and bring it to Him for help? What changes as I get still and remember that He is who He says He is and that this is not too hard for Him?

Oh Lord,

May these moments of reading about you questioning, inviting, testing, and challenging people; then watching you overcome lack, limitation, overwhelm, weariness and depth put to rest my objections for the sake of “If you say so, Lord.”

May what you have to say always be enough for me.

I have been drowning in objections, but I am listening. I feel in over my head. But nothing is too hard for you. You always have more than enough to give.

Jehovah Jireh.

May I not strain to bring things together, but breathe and wait for you to work.

“Be still in the presence of the Lord,
    and wait patiently for him to act…”

–Psalm 37:7

I don’t HAVE to reach here or there. Lord, I feel all these pressures to meet other people’s needs, to meet my own. But they don’t NEED me. They need you. And you have it in hand. So it has to be you, Lord.

“…So this joy of mine is complete. He must increase, but I must decrease.”

–John 3:29-30

Please give what I do not have to give. Please come provide what I cannot provide. Please let your power rest on me in my weakness. Please pour out living water, given without measure. Help me to listen to your Spirit. Guide my steps. Teach my heart. Lead me into all truth. I need you. I need wisdom. Please give it liberally, as you promise to. Help me to recognize it and lean on it. Help me to perceive your voice – and then, not to object. Because if you say so, that is enough.

There is no greater wisdom than to do something, just because that’s what you said to do. I don’t need to be able to make sense of it or explain it.

Lord, root out my unbelieving objections. Teach me to replace them with question marks, and allow those unknowns while I wait on you. I don’t know what’s ahead, which way to go, or have control. Teach me still to hope, while letting go of my need to claim specifics I don’t have. I can accept that there are unknowns I have no way of clearing up until I reach them, and yet I do not have to fear them. To admit I do not know what is coming is not the same thing as fearful timidity. I can do it with humble boldness.

Because You are there. Out in front, in the future, on the waves, in the dark, beckoning me to follow even though You have not shown me what you will do or how you will rescue.

You do have control. You do know the future. You are writing it. Nothing is too hard for you, so I will not be afraid.

I can get before you, right here, where it feels like it’s time to send the crowd away because I don’t have enough. I’ve worked hard all night and caught nothing and I’m spent. I don’t have a bucket. I can’t reach the pool.

And you will say, “But I am here. I am with you. Don’t worry. Stand still and watch what I will do.“

“Oh, how great are God’s riches and wisdom and knowledge! How impossible it is for us to understand his decisions and his ways!

 For who can know the Lord’s thoughts?
    Who knows enough to give him advice?^[l]
And who has given him so much
    that he needs to pay it back?^[m]

For everything comes from him and exists by his power and is intended for his glory. All glory to him forever! Amen.“

–Romans 11:33-36

“Who else has held the oceans in his hand?
    Who has measured off the heavens with his fingers?
Who else knows the weight of the earth
    or has weighed the mountains and hills on a scale?
¹³ Who is able to advise the Spirit of the Lord?^[c]
    Who knows enough to give him advice or teach him?
¹⁴ Has the Lord ever needed anyone’s advice?
    Does he need instruction about what is good?
Did someone teach him what is right
    or show him the path of justice?

¹⁵ No, for all the nations of the world
    are but a drop in the bucket.
They are nothing more
    than dust on the scales.
He picks up the whole earth
    as though it were a grain of sand.“

–Isaiah 40:12-15

 “Then Job replied to the Lord:

² “I know that you can do anything,
    and no one can stop you.
³ You asked, ‘Who is this that questions my wisdom with such ignorance?’
    It is I—and I was talking about things I knew nothing about,
    things far too wonderful for me.“

–Job 42:1-3