Today there’s worry on my chest. I don’t think there’s a worry in the world like the kind a parent holds for a child. I keep giving it to the Lord. I open the door to the deep place of my heart and let Him take the fear.
And then, quietly and quickly, I snatch it back.
This afternoon I’m running along the road that winds and curves and cuts into the country fields behind our house. The sky is gray and the air is thick with spring. But I keep running. It’s easy to pray here. It’s quiet. Just my breath and nature and the rhythmic pattern of my own pace. I begin to pray in a sort of rhythm, too.
I’m afraid this will happen, Lord. I’m afraid. I’m afraid…
I run for a half-mile or so, prayers moving fast and free. And then, right through the worry, come two words. They hit my spirit steady and strong.
Even if.
It takes me a while to understand. My feet still hit the pavement. I still breathe in and out. Then suddenly, as I move along, the veil over my understanding moves, too.
Even if what I’m fearful of happens, the Lord will be here still.
It’s scary to explore this in my mind. I don’t want to think of my fear in terms that it may really occur. And I have every hope that it won’t. But I also know that we are not promised a life free of struggles. In fact, Jesus said that we’d have them.
Then He said to fear not. He has overcome the world.
As I run along, I begin to understand that His overcoming, His victory, is a grace offering meant to flow into my own life. It is enough. Because of His compassion, I have steadfast and solid promises.
Even if my fear materializes…
His grace will be sufficient (2 Corinthians 12:9).
I have a spirit of power, love, and sound mind. (2 Timothy 1:7).
In God’s mercy I have been given a new birth into a living hope (1 Peter 1:3).
This brings comfort to my soul.
Just as I round the corner to our home, it begins to sprinkle. It’s not a threatening rain. It’s a gentle patter that hits the pavement and the houses and the trees. It falls on me, too.
I’m not worried.
This sprinkling feels like grace.
Even if that circumstance occurs, Lord, You will be here, and I thank you.
He’ll be working in my life. And in my child’s, too.
