Return unto thy rest, O my soul; for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee. Psalm 116:7
Little Evie knows how to rest.
She has no doubts whatsoever that Heather and Dustin will meet her every need. She has no doubt in their supreme love and power. And at some level she knows where to go for everything she needs–absolutely no confidence in herself to produce streams of sustenance and comfort.
We must learn to believe like a child. Children are supremely confident of their parents’ love and power. Instinctively they trust. They believe their parents want to do them good. If you know your parents loves and protects you, it fills your world with possibility. To just chatter away with what is on your heart.
I works the same in the world of prayer. If you learn to pray you learn to dream again. I say,“again” because every child naturally dreams and hopes. To learn how to pray is to enter the world of a child, where all things are possible. Little children can’t imagine that their parents won’t eventually say yes. But as we grow older, we grow less naïve and more cynical. Disappointment and broken promises are the norm instead of hoping and dreaming. Our childlike faith dies a thousand little deaths. Jesus encourages us to believe like little children by telling stories about people who acted like little children, the parable of the persistent widow and the unjust judge and the man who badgers his neighbor for bread late at night.
On the rare occasion when Jesus encounters an adult who believes like a child, he stands on a soapbox and practically yells, “Pay attention to this person. Look how he or she believes!” He only does this twice; both times the person was a Gentile, a person from outside the community of faith, the Roman centurion and the Canaanite woman whose child is possessed by a demon. –David Powlison
My days have been filled with dark-eyed curly-haired children who rest in this love. They march and shout and sing and laugh out loud and raise their hands and wiggle their fingers with joy. “I know the answer, me, me.”
Thus LORD, I come to you. With my ever-growing list of names. And with the swelling unspoken dreams in my heart that have not even been articulated to myself. Let me speak them to you. Not in the back corner, leaning against the wall, shy and doubtful, but up front, tugging on Your sleeve.
O praise the Lord, all ye nations: praise Him, all ye people. For His merciful kindness is great toward us: and the truth of the Lord endureth for ever. Praise ye the Lord. Psalm 117
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