"For such a time as this." It's a phrase that oozes with purpose. If I told you God had put you on this earth for such a time as this, you might not only feel a sense of obligation to act in a certain way, one that precipitates change, but you would get a clearer picture of a God who is so big, so sovereign, He has innumerable things orchestrated throughout history to converge on what we know as a single point in time. But what if I told you that God had sent you a message of hope, or peace, or mercy to prepare you to endure such a time as this? In your grief, in your trouble, would you be able to see it? For months, I had missed it.
In May of last year, we were knee deep in COVID restrictions, wondering where all of this was going. We were burning the candle at both ends, doing all the things other families with school-age children were doing, and hoping Summer days would arrive when we could frolic at the water park and picnic at the orchard. The days came, but the frolicking and picnicking, not so much. Everything remained on lockdown. About that time, however, a song made its way to the Christian music station. "Miracles," by Colton Dixon. We loved it. We would bop and sway to the beat, singing as loudly as we could. It reminded me of the miracle of the crazy life we were in. Our marriage, after both of us had been so deeply hurt by divorces. The presence of all of these children in our life. Our amazing church family. The way God had just continued to provide for us over and over. And as we drove under sunny skies, music pouring out of open windows, I reached my hand out. Golden light flickered through new leaves across my arm, and the cool air rolled over my palm. It was all a miracle.
A couple weeks ago, I traveled home from work, the dawn just breaking in my rearview mirror. I turned on the radio and, "Miracles." I wanted to turn it off. I thought I should turn it off. My miracle had come to a screeching halt, and while I spoke truth into my spirit at every opportunity, my faith never wavered, and I praised Him for every other thing in my life, God had ripped my miracle from my hands and I was feeling bitter. God's plan stunk and I continued to let Him know that with an ungrateful attitude and daily dose of sulking. But a strangely wonderful and abundantly merciful thing happened that morning. Instead of the tears and hysterics that I thought would pour forth, joy flooded my spirit. I could hardly contain it. I sang, once again, at the top of my lungs. Tears of gratitude streamed down my face. I saw God's hand in everything up until this point: the messages of hope He shared with me long before I needed them, the blessing of holidays that arrived shortly after the loss -- giving us the opportunity to spend more time with our children and to circumvent months wondering what Christmas would be like with the youngest of our clan gone (There was true mercy in that, I have learned!), the miracle of bringing them into our lives in the first place. For over two years we walked on dry ground between walls of water. For over two years we tasted the goodness of the Lord everyday through the eyes of those seeing His grace for the first time. For over two years we witnessed a miracle. It had come time to leave that miracle behind and look for new ones. But God had prepared me. From the first time I'd heard that song, not once did I ever think it was about life remaining as it was forever. From the first time I'd heard that song, it had always reminded me what a miracle life was in the first place. And here it was, reminding me again, because of God's grace in preparing me for such a time as this.
As I drove past the local hospital on my way home, I saw it. People were going home today. Bodies and minds would be made whole today. People were bringing new life into the world today. And, by God's grace, I could see and celebrate those miracles that very day.
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