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Hand It All Over!

Yesterday, I didn’t take a day off, but I didn’t come in to the office or write a journal either. It wasn’t planned, but a sick child, who the entire time he was home, was trying to convince me he was not sick so he could go to his friend’s birthday party, was my primary focus. So I focused on him. I played games with him, and I loved on him. I also taught him that it’s disappointing to not be able to do the things you were looking forward to, but that we should give over those things to God.

And how often do we make plans like that, and get disappointed when life gets in the way? How often does our life not work out how we hoped it would? Whether in good times or bad, we should hand it all over to God. God can handle our joys and triumphs (where we tend to revel too much in our own accomplishments), and He is all sufficient for our hurts and disappointments. In short, God wants nothing less than our complete desire, hope, cares, sorrow, and all of us. We can’t handle anything, but He can rule over everything. Hand it all over, and like a Father with His child, He will care for us, guide us, and lead us.

Psalm 42

As a deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and appear before God? My tears have been my food day and night, while they say to me all the day long, “Where is your God?” These things I remember, as I pour out my soul: how I would go with the throng and lead them in procession to the house of God with glad shouts and songs of praise, a multitude keeping festival.

Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.

My soul is cast down within me; therefore I remember you from the land of Jordan and of Hermon, from Mount Mizar. Deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls; all your breakers and your waves have gone over me. By day the LORD commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life. I say to God, my rock: “Why have you forgotten me? Why do I go mourning because of the oppression of the enemy?” As with a deadly wound in my bones, my adversaries taunt me, while they say to me all the day long, “Where is your God?”

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