“Now. . .
“unto Him . . .
“who is able to do . . .
“exceeding abundantly beyond . . .
“. . . all . . .”
God helps me find things.
If it had just happened just once or twice, maybe I could explain it away as good fortune. (And of course I suppose it could have been avoided altogether if I wasn’t in such a steady habit of losing stuff.) But God knows this trait of mine and is patiently working on it in me. In the meanwhile, He understands who I am—and where I am in life—and so this has become like a standing joke between us.
My keys. My phone charger. Important papers.
He finds them for me.
One time I was dealing with a particularly maddening loss: a missing keepsake book where I’d been housing a bunch of photos from my children’s first months of life. This was before the days of Iphone photos, so these were real photographs—irreplaceable image. I kept it in my purse, whipping it out at a moment’s notice, holding unsuspecting strangers hostage to my family photos.
Somewhere, I had lost that thing.
I called every airline I’d flown, hotels I’d stayed in and churches where I’d been. It was nowhere to be found.
I’m sure you’ve had the feeling. You look through the same closets you’ve already torn out twice before. You run your fingers along the same stacks and piles where you know it can’t be, but maybe you overlooked it last time (although you know you couldn’t, but . . . )—maybe it’ll jog a new lead in your mind you haven’t thought of yet.
You’ve looked everywhere. “Please, God, where is it?”
Then, months into my search for the missing book, I happened upon Job 28:24 – “He looks to the ends of the earth and sees everything under the heavens”.
My heart skipped a beat.
Of course! Why should it surprise me that my Father, who “counts the number of the stars” and “gives names to all of them” (Ps. 147:4)— also owns the GPS coordinates to “everything under the heavens”? Everything. Even things that might be completely insignificant to someone else but mean a whole lot to me. Even things lost because of my own mistake. Even my boys’ little keepsake book.
And since you know where it is, Lord, would you be willing to show me?
That was my prayer.
That morning.
I went to the grocery store around 10 a.m., then came back home and put everything away in the kitchen. When I walked back into our bedroom . . .there it was. (I’m not making this up.) That missing book—the one I’d thought, for all I knew, might have been left lying at Gate 31B in the Sydney, Australia, airport— was sitting on my pillow.
Sitting. On. My. Pillow.
Like a little gift straight from glory.
A golden spotlight was resting on it, with little sparkles of dust twinkling in the glow. (Well, maybe that part was probably just in my mind), But the physical book itself . . . there it was!
After I’d gone to the store, Jerry was moving a big piece of furniture to retrieve something that had fallen underneath, and he saw my book, picked it up, and flipped it casually on the bed.
Not knowing it was a gift from God.
I must say, with the track record the Lord had already been building up with me over the years, I don’t know why I’d taken so long before going to Him for help. He has proven to me time and time again that He cares about the little things. My little things. Your little things. Things that others might find ridiculous but are very important to you.
For you, His personalized ministry may take another shape entirely, but the principle is still the same: He cares about the big things, the small things, and everything in between.
Everything.
All of it.
Is there any “little thing” you’ve considered too insignificant to bring to God?
Priscilla
