I want to be a faithful woman, a faith-filled women. Sometimes I am not.
When my heart is broken wide open and pouring out its own anguish, I feel far away from You, like I wonder where You are.
But haven’t I read Your very own words? You are near to the broken-hearted, close to the crushed in spirit.
I pray. Sometimes the prayers seem to hit a brass heaven. Do you hear me?
Then I remember: You hear my cry for help.
Well, I have cried a lot of tears, a bucketful probably.
Do you really keep my tears in a bottle? They must be important to You.
I wonder about Your plan and question, “What are You doing?”
Your reply is to point me to hope and a future.
But I don’t understand it. And I cannot see how it is all going to work out.
You tell me You are working all things together for my good.
And I ask, “But how?”
You patiently tell me Your ways are too high for me to grasp and Your thoughts are beyond my comprehension.
I fear my faith is small. I bow low and pray, “Lord, I believe. Help my weak faith to grow.”
Father, I choose to trust Your words. I determine to believe they are true. I acknowledge Your sovereignty over me and Your love for me.
It is small act of faith. Like a little mustard seed. And I feel You making me stronger somehow.
Growing me into a faithful woman.
How is your faith growing?
I love hearing from you.
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