bible

SUMMER IS COMING

/ jessicaivaska / 2 Comments

Monday the rain was back. Yes, it’s only May. Yes, summer isn’t officially here yet, but we all know I’m impatient and my impatience has grown over the last several weeks. Why? Teaser days. 

You know what I’m talking about, right?

Those days in spring when the sky is bright blue, the sun is out, and it stretches into the upper 70s. Those are the teaser days and we’ve had a few of them in this last month. But today, as I zipped up a winter coat to brave the 40-something morning air for a walk, I had to face the facts. No matter how much I want it to be, It’s just not quite time for my Birkenstock sandals yet. I wore them this weekend, and it was wonderful. My toes happily stretched, feeling the fresh air and sunbeams as I walked though a patch of grass.  

At the time, I was grateful for the summer-like weather. I still am. But I’ll also admit, at the time, all I wanted was more. 

I wanted the days of 70+ weather to arrive and settle in. 

I wanted to pack away my sweaters, vests, and coats. 

I wanted to be done with winter. 

But yesterday, as drizzle continued to fall and I was forced to zip up before stepping outside, God whispered to me. 

“Those days were just a taste, Jess. It’s coming. But it’s not here yet.” 

That’s when I realized that in many ways, every day of this life is a taste of what’s to come. 

A taste of heaven. 

Of eternity. 

Of the goodness and beauty of God.

Of things yet to come.

Is it a perfect analogy? No, but God still used it to remind me that when I feel trapped in the slog of winter, summer – His summer, the summer He bled and died for – is coming. 

He sends us glimpses of it. Tastes of it. Teaser days, if you will, to give us glimpses of the day when things will be reconciled and fully redeemed in Christ. 

We’re not there yet. But He promises it’s coming. And those sunbeams breaking through the clouds remind me of that. 

May they remind you, too. 

WHAT WOULD IT TAKE?

/ jessicaivaska / 2 Comments

My husband, Erik, and I like to walk together. We don’t go every day, but  more often than not we lace up our shoes and find some ground to cover. 

Sometimes we’ll drive for a “destination” walk. We’ll go to the waterfront in one of the nearby towns or pick a park to hike in. Most days, though, we walk in our neighborhood. It’s a rural area so there are no city sidewalks, and our three-mile route even takes us down a few woodsy trails. If we time it to avoid drop-off and pick-up at the nearby elementary school, we usually don’t see too much traffic. 

However, there is one main road we have to cross. Erik had my hand as we came to the road. As is often the case, I was lazily looking at the plants around, starting at trees and keeping an eye out for bunnies and squirrels.  A car whizzed by us and then Erik gently tugged me out into the street. 

I didn’t even flinch. 

Didn’t stop to look both ways myself.

I simply trusted him. 

The more I thought about it, the more I realized how much I trust him. I know he loves me. I know he won’t lead me into danger. In fact, he points out dog poop just to make sure I don’t step in it. He is always keeping an eye out for me, protecting me. 

I’m so used to it that letting him guide me has become natural. So natural that in situations like crossing a street, I don’t second guess him. But today, as we kept walking our route, I heard God whisper a question straight to my soul.

Can you guess what it was?

“What would it take for you to trust me like that?”

Ouch. 

I’ve had a relationship with God longer than I’ve known Erik and yet I often second-guess His leading. 

“Really, Lord?”

“Are you sure?”

“What if it’s dangerous?”

“What if it’s too hard?”

“What if I get hurt – physically or emotionally?”

I could write a book full of excuses, but when it comes down to it, the truth is, I struggle to trust God’s guidance. 

Maybe it’s because I let fear and anxiety control too much of my life. 

Maybe it’s because I don’t spend enough time in His Word. 

Maybe it’s because I can’t see God or hold His hand like I can Erik’s. 

Maybe it’s all those things – and more.

I’m not sure the “why” actually matters as much as the question itself. 

What would it take for me to trust God implicitly? 

What would it take for you to?