Lord, I feel like Kingsley. Sometimes he is content to play or chew, sometimes to nap or cuddle, but the last couple of days he is so wiggly, so squirmy, as if he can’t settle or get comfortable. I am picturing myself exactly like that—arms and legs flailing, wanting down, wanting to run. For him, this is natural and healthy; he is growing and running towards his future. Me, I feel as if I am trying to run away from it and it is looming larger and scarier every day.
Do you think I have changed? Do you think I no longer Am already in your future, preparing you, preparing your life for the days ahead? Do you think the future is some country where I Am not present, not involved, not caring about and for you?
Some people struggle with anger or pride or selfishness. You struggle with fear and worry. These are your challenges. You have made much progress in trust and faith, but let Me ask you a question. I already know the answer, but I want you to hear yourself say it: do you think I Am no longer good? No longer Love? No longer Peace, or Joy? Do you think hope is foolish and gratitude is empty? Do you think all I have said, all I have done, is a lie—or am I a truth-teller still?
Oh Lord, I know You are all those things—and more. I know You are good and kind and that Love and Peace and Joy are not only Your gifts but also Your very nature.
But…? You are thinking a But…
But we get thrown curve balls. You have said You are not testing us, or not just for testing’s sake. You have said You don’t cause natural disasters—or, I am paraphrasing now—human health ones either. So if these challenges are not You, then what are they? How can I understand them?
Do you remember what I said the other day about a clockmaker, making and winding a clock?
Now I want you to imagine the clockmaker doing something that in your limited viewpoint seems pointless, even unacceptable. I want you to picture the clockmaker holding in his hands a clock that no longer keeps time, that constantly stops and starts. Picture that clock scratched and scarred, with vestiges of its earlier beauty marked by years of use, faithfully ticking away, but no longer able to function anywhere near its peak performance. Now picture the clockmaker carefully disassembling the clock, the very clock he himself made. I want you to imagine the clockmaker taking all these parts and laying them out, cleaning and polishing them, repairing where needed, and adding new parts to the pile. Now watch as the clockmaker assembles a new, even more beautiful and intricate instrument that doesn’t need winding and that keeps perfect rhythm for eternity. Who wouldn’t want that? Who wouldn’t want to be that? You see clues in nature even now. Why do you think you are noticing all the butterflies this season? Why do you think you got to watch the caterpillars and chrysalis formation? These were all meant as gifts to encourage you, to give you hope. What do you do with Kingsley when he seems frantic?
I hold him close so he can hear or feel my heartbeat.
And he calms down, almost immediately.
Let Me hold you close. Listen to My Heartbeat. Remember Who I Am. Remember Whose you are. And know this: every human clock you watch unwinding is being readied for a limitless life of perfect rhythm, perfectly balanced, perfectly in tune, perfectly aligned. Do you—can you—believe for this?
Yes, Lord, I can.
Then let this strengthen, encourage and comfort you. If you can calm your new puppy, why can’t you let Me calm you? And don’t run away from your future. I still have much to give you, much to show you, much to share with you. And you have much to share with others. Be at Peace, Little One. Sleep easier tonight. I Am with you, and with everyone you love. I will never leave you, nor will I leave them. So, you rest in My care and let Me care for your loved ones.