Sarah Anne I Am

God keeps taking things I think I’m certain of and surprising me. I am learning to trust Him not only in the trials that I didn’t expect, but also in the blessings I didn’t expect. My plans and expectations for better or worse are laid to waste by the reality that God is, as always, in control. It was about three years ago that I sat beneath a tree by the stream at Berachah, staring up at strong branches and the night sky, as someone over the phone reminded me, “Sarah, you’re not God. YOU’RE NOT GOD.” I know that that friend was simply being an unknowing mouthpiece of the Father Who loves me, and I have never forgotten that moment of realizing just how wholly I needed to surrender my will. I have been reminded of that moment many, many times since then, as I too often seek to take control again. Yet He is always gentle and loving in breaking me and bringing me to my knees again, bringing me back to a place where I am humbled by the greatness of His love and Who He is. And for that, dea

I have been convicted yet again that it is not my job to change people. That task belongs to the Holy Spirit. My part in the matter is simply to be the love of Jesus in their lives, speak truth humbly and fearlessly, and consistantly point them to the God that loves them far more than I ever can. If someone does not change how I had hoped and prayed they would, that does not mean I have failed. If I have been obediant in planting seed, then I have done my part.

  There is a boy who loves me.   His name is Ezra, and he is five years old.   A few months ago he came running to me with a piece of paper and a pen hidden behind his back and asked me, “Sarah, how do you spell ‘Friends forever’?”   Children trying to surprise someone are adorable in the utter clumsiness of their secrecy.   I knew that if I spelled it out for him, as soon as I said the first letter he would run into the other room to write it slyly on the piece of paper before running back and asking me what came next. This process would have taken far more time and effort than it seemed to merit, so I grabbed a receipt out of my purse and wrote ‘Friends forever’ on the back. I handed him the receipt, telling him to copy it, and he scampered off to his bedroom to write it out in secrecy.   As I had expected, about ten minutes later he presented me with a card he’d made. The front proclaimed his expectation that our friendship, gapped in age by nearly fifteen years, would last forever.