“If you don’t know what to say, just share your heart. In it, you’ll find your words.”
I don’t know if it’ll work, but I’m hoping that it’s true.
But before I start sharing my heart, let me qualify this post by assuring you that I am not disillusioned. I am not upset. I am not even discouraged. But I am asking some questions.
My weekend has been full of questions, really. They ranged in scope from the simple, “Did you get my email?” (hubby)….to the more than one word answer kind…“Mom, why don’t Graham and Micah wear ties to church?” (If my little 6-year daughter only knew how “unsimple ”THAT was!)…to the “I-don’t-understand-this-and-I really-wish-I did” moment I experienced last night while at my computer.
I had just finished viewing a Utube video montage of the former President with the title, “Thank You, Mr. President.” It was a 3.5 minute tribute of pictures from President Bush’s years as our Commander and Chief set to a moving song by Christian artist, Steven Curtis Chapman. I watched, in remembrance of many of the moments the pictures captured. As I did, I wondered. To myself. Then the questions came.
Why did this man seem to have such a hard road while in office? Why did he not have the “success” or approval of the world when he is clearly a man of faith? Why didn’t God exalt him and make his name great like He certainly could have done?
I could come up with theories to answer these questions. I have, actually. But last night I knew it was much more than that. That’s when this verse came to my mind.
"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the LORD. (Isaiah 55:8 NIV)
I have been comforted by this verse lately, as it seems to keep re-occurring in my life. Up until last night, this verse wasn’t related to any questions I might have had about the former President or his last 8 years in office. It was much more about my life and how I’m feeling right now and what is going on in my heart.
I think I’ve come up with what that is.
I used to think I didn’t like “questions.” I mean, the mere idea of having to ask a question about something signified to me that I was lacking something or wasn’t capable of figuring something out myself. I’ve always been a “do-it-myself” kind of girl and love to wave my flag of independence. But I don’t think that’s what this is about.
I’ve decided that it’s not the questions I don’t like. In fact, sometimes I love them. I love being asked about the day one of my children was born…what Jesus is showing me right now…how my husband and I met…what circumstances God brought into my life to get me my book contracts…where I got the super cute vases on my mantel that look like they cost $200 apiece but came from a grocery store for only $19.99 apiece. Those are all questions that make my heart leap when I am asked them.
On the other hand, there are questions I don’t like as much.
Case and point: A young woman from another state across the country wrote me this week and asked me why God had allowed her to be in a terrible circumstance beyond her control.
It’s one of those questions a great book can’t answer for you. You can offer Scripture. Gather information and give your opinion. But at the end of the day, it’s a question that just cannot be answered.
Those are questions I just don’t like. It’s not the questions in and of themselves. It’s really about not having the answer to those questions.
I’ve decided I don’t like not being filled in.
And that is where I am today. With a heart full of questions.
Are you, God?
Will you, God?
Can you, God?
Have you, God?
Some of these questions can be quickly answered. Some cannot. All in some way probably won’t be, at least not in the way I’d like them to be.
So I will continue on today, with Isaiah 55:8 playing in my head, hoping it somehow makes it’s way to my heart.
I’m good. Just have some questions.




