We’ve been “expecting” for six months now, a euphemism which I find doesn’t quite catch the truth of it.
Early in the pregnancy, if I’m honest, my expectations were different — my husband and I both acknowledge, now, that we didn’t expect to make it this far; we expected — for a myriad of reasons — to lose the baby.
A lot could happen in the next three months, and I cannot presume to know, but now I expect that in late August I’ll be holding a wiggling, crying little boy.
Even so, to say we’re “expecting a baby” is a misnomer. We don’t expect him. We have him — something like two pounds of him, every inch a baby right now. A baby whose kicks and tumbles we treasure. A baby to whom we already talk and sing. He isn’t born yet, but he’s not merely expected. He exists.
It’s easy to expect what looks like the worst from God — to expect that He’ll give the harder thing, say “no” to the dream, make us walk through pain. And often He does.
But we have His promise — the promise of the God who cannot lie — that He is doing the best things, even through the hard.
His promises are not just for some abstract future. We have them now. We who are in Christ do not just expect to receive eternal life one day, in Christ we already have it, as surely as I already have a son. Not fully enjoyed yet, but fully, completely ours.
Linking up with Kate Motaung’s Five Minute Friday — and taking longer than five minutes, there was a phone call in the middle — today to write on her prompt “expect.” The pink button above takes you to her site.
©2016 by Stacy Crouch