The kids and husband have gone to bed and the house is quiet and still. I tiptoe from room to room, tidying up what is left of the day’s messes. I creep up and down the basement stairs with laundry piles and basketfuls to be folded. I make a cup of tea and rest for a few minutes on the couch. Sometimes it’s a short date with the DVR; sometimes it’s a chance to write. Tonight, it was an opportunity to slowly peruse the latest Anthro magazine in dimly-lit peace.
I glance at the clock nearby – 1:20 in the morning. I should go to bed, but I don’t want to. The sound of little footsteps jars my thoughts and spares me from the truth for a few minutes more. I help her with a potty break, a drink of water and lead her back to bed.
As I head back down to the living room, I think to myself, “It’s good that I’m still awake. Doing all of that would’ve been much harder had I been woken up from sleep…”
I sit back down and glance at my phone. A friend’s Facebook post raptures my attention. It’s about a mother, around my age, who also has all daughters. “I have no words…,” the post starts – her eldest, just sixteen, is in the arms of Jesus tonight…
I lose myself in a sea of images – picture after picture of a mother and her daughters…her babies…they adore Jesus…and just like that, on “just another Saturday,” one is gone suddenly and too soon.
I’m undone, and as I feel lost in the fears that seem to swallow me whole, He reveals why I seem to wait night after night for sunrise…
I’m afraid of what tomorrow holds.
God knows, but I don’t, and I’m afraid of the not-knowing. Today, my husband has a great job. Today, my four daughters are healthy. Today I am alive. Today we have each other. But what will still be there tomorrow?
So I sit and I stare the clock down. I dare it to tick without my knowing. I busy my mind so I don’t think about my worries. I busy my heart so I escape fear for one more hour. And I busy my hands so I can deny surrendering to the end of another day of making it.
How wonderful would it be to rest a weary head each night with assurance that tomorrow would be equally as good and safe, if not more so than it was today?
What sweet relief would come from a promise of lifelong health for all whom you hold dear?
What freedom would be felt – to relinquish control and simply place your life and all of its details at the feet of Jesus? How amazing it would be to really trust them there…
Somehow watching for the dawn, riding the wave of the night, guarantees me safe passage into tomorrow.
Midnight? What’s midnight? They say that, “Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed,” so I deny today’s end, regardless of what the clock reads.
There is such great risk in loving. Each night, I live as though my hand is laid out on the table. The Lord knows the cards and that loving deeply sometimes feels like life’s greatest gamble.
But I feel Him asking me, “Why are you playing the game? Why are you living in constant fear of losing what you’ve already gained for all time?”
Oh, that we could wrap our minds around eternity. Tomorrow could very well hurt. There will be wins and losses, ups and downs, but it’s not a gamble – it’s an investment. A down payment on eternity.
So, as afraid as I may feel some nights, I will give it to Him and love hard tomorrow. God does not promise us an easy life, but a full one. He doesn’t promise us riches, but eternal rewards. He doesn’t promise us a life without roadblocks and pitfalls, but prayer that wields great power.
He doesn’t promise me and my loved ones a smooth ride, but He does say He’ll never forsake us. He’ll never leave us. He doesn’t leave. Someone who loves you does not leave. He loves us. And because He loves us and is perfect, it makes sense that He is Perfect Love. His Word reveals that Perfect Love casts out fear. And because He literally casts out fear as He walks alongside us constantly, then I know we can face tomorrow with confident faith.
A season is coming – a season in which many Believers will be fasting and sacrificing in preparation for Resurrection Sunday. During this season, I am fasting my fears. While the rest of my people go off to bed, instead of indulging in the silence and standing watch in the night, overwhelmed by fear, I am going to take a few minutes (or twenty) alone to starve my anxiety and lay it all down before my King.
I lay down the fear so I have room to carry trust, faith, peace, confidence and joy.
He declares through His Word that He gives rest to those He loves and that joy comes in the morning… So I will not fear tomorrow, because joy comes with the sunrise and Jesus waits for me on the horizon.