This time of year, for reasons we still can’t explain, our living room becomes a haven for wasps. Not a ton of them— that’s the tricky thing. We’ll find one or two a week gripping to the windowpane. Usually we can swat them and they’re done for. But one morning, my daughter got stung in the foot as she sat innocently on the carpet watching TV.
For real. Who worries about wasps in winter? The little suckers must’ve been nesting dormant somewhere near our crawlspace, and one squeezed his way into the house. It’s not exactly what a six-year-old expects to find when she wakes up for school on a February morning. I remember she cried and cried not just from the pain but more so from the surprise of it all. So, naturally, I wanted to cry, too. I felt her hurt. I should have protected her, prevented her pain somehow. But the wasp came out of nowhere. How was I to know?
That’s just how life goes, though, isn’t it? Everything is moving along smoothly, ordinary, according to habit, then a fastball clocks us out of left field, and we’re stunned. Our security crumbles. What used to be predictable is now uncertain and scary. Nobody wants to sit in the proverbial living room anymore, for crying out loud, because what if there are more wasps?
“Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand,” (Isaiah 41:10).
Last week, I learned a dear friend is losing her fight with cancer. She’s my age. She has four kids.
The same day, I got a text from another friend saying her mom has been given two months to live. She had only been diagnosed a few days earlier, but the cancer is too far gone. I just saw her mom a few weeks ago. We were chatting and eating cake. She was full of life, beautiful.
It happens everywhere, to anyone, week by week, hour by hour. Life changes in a flash, in big ways and small ways, and we’re left scrambling for balance, perspective, and answers.
We may never find them. But I keep reminding myself—that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.
Because while we mere humans put one foot in front of the other, walking linear through our days, God sees it all in full context—past, present, and future.
Nothing surprises Him.
The real question is—can we trust Him?
Does a good, ever-faithful, all-knowing, fiercely loving God really have our best interests at heart, even when the wasps sting out of season and nothing makes sense?
He says He does.
“’For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart,’” (Jeremiah 29:11–13).
When pain and heartache surprise me, I find comfort in knowing God not only saw it coming, but He allowed it—which means it must fit into His big-picture plan. And somehow, even in the darkest circumstances when any glimpse of light seems miles and miles away, God’s plan is still good.
Besides, if you think about it, would we rather trust ourselves? Me—you—with our finite brains and nearsighted vision. Us, the women who burn toast and lose car keys and forget to call Grandma on her birthday.
I like that lady a lot. But I can’t always rely on her genius.
So I choose to lean on God. He knows more. He loves more. He is perfect where I am not.
Will you choose to trust Him, too?
Even in the hurt.
Even in the questions.
Even when nothing at all seems fair.
So let’s take the pressure off ourselves to make sense of it all, because somehow the world makes sense to Him. And you know what that’s called?
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