Tropical Depression Gordon brought the most wonderful kind of rain today, and I spent an hour to ensure that both boys would nap in their beds and I could enjoy the rain and prepare for Saturday’s ladies study in blissful solitude. I crept out to the kitchen, lit the stove under the kettle, laid a slice of cake on a napkin.

The water was almost hot enough for tea when the baby commenced to roar, and my heart grumbled as, baby on hip, I poured steaming water over the teabag.

The Lord was kind to rebuke my grumbling.

In my heart I harbor bold and courageous ideals — though I’d rather not be called to live them — that I could joyfully die for my faith, that I could suffer imprisonment if need be, that I could bear witness to God’s goodness in the face of persecution. But even martyrs live most of their lives in mundanity.

It’s all very well for me to say that by the Lord’s help, and in view of my better, abiding possession in heaven, I could joyfully accept the plundering of my property; but do I draw on His help and look to that hope in order to joyfully accept the plundering of my alone time?

How will I persevere to study and know the Lord under violent oppression, if I cannot persevere to study and know Him with a sleeping baby in my lap?

The power that sustained Jesus through a brutal death on the cross, the power that made it impossible for Him to be held by death, is available to sustain and help me to serve with joy in my comfortable home.

Pride tells me that I shouldn’t need help for these easy things. But my Savior shines more glorious when I see and acknowledge that apart from Him I can do nothing.

I need His help to even ask Him for help.

His grace is amazing.

©️2018 by Stacy Crouch

One thought on “rainy day graces

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