Just like Sarai, I can begin to believe that maybe I could devise a better plan. Just like Sarai, I begin to think that maybe there is something bigger, better, grander than what God has planned, what He has promised. Because if it was up to me, we wouldn’t have to wait. But if we didn’t have to wait, I shudder to think what I might never learn.

And yet, in Abram’s waiting and in our own, this is God’s promise: He will be our shield. Our exceedingly great reward. No matter how long we wait. No matter what comes. No matter what sorrow or loss or heartache this world throws at us. God will still be God and He will still be good, and He is enough for us. Life with Him now, here, and life with Him eternal is our greatest hope, our greatest reward.

YET. This is our word for the middle season. This is our word for the season when we are waiting on His promises, when we face opposition, when we don’t have enough, when we are afraid. This is our word for the middle of the trials, the middle of our ministry, the middle of our family crisis, the middle of our mundane day-to-day routine, the middle of a global pandemic – Yet, we remember our trustworthy God and we can hope. Yet, we turn to His Word and we see His faithfulness. And always, He is not done, not yet.

My study Bible interrupts Nehemiah 3 with a diagram of the wall in Jerusalem some time in the 400s BC. Included is a detailed drawing of the wall that Nehemiah and his community set out to build. This was certainly an extensive project, and yet we see how the people conquered it: one brick at a time. In some places, the wall needed only to be repaired, and in some places it needed to be rebuilt all together. Some places needed a solid wall and others needed a gate, still others a tower. Groups of workers were identified by their families and sometimes by where they lived.

The good news for me, for you, is that God keeps His promises to Abram, even in the midst of Abram’s less than exemplary choices. God doesn’t let Abram’s fear thwart His ultimate plan, and He won’t let our fear hinder His good plans for us, either. God didn’t let Nehemiah’s fear stand in the way of His provision to build the wall. God didn’t let Peter’s doubt or worry keep Him in the prison. God didn’t let Israel’s unrepentance keep them from witnessing the resurrection of the Messiah.

As I sat late into the night reliving our catastrophe over and over again, I began to see how God’s fingerprints were all over it. No, He didn’t stop it from happening and, no, He didn’t provide the instant, miraculous answers we were begging for. But there was also no way to deny that He was there, constant, working out little details on our behalf, putting the right people in the right places at the right times, gently guiding us not out of, but through, our darkest times. I saw that while our plans had changed, His plan to be with us was still completely intact, even in the unexpected.

Throughout all of Scripture, and even in my own life, this is what God does – He makes the unlikely His disciples, He makes strangers into friends and friends into family. He gives us each other. To repent together, to weep together, to rejoice together, to weather the storm together, to pray together.

I’ve prayed for miracles. Sometimes, I have been given miracles. And sometimes, I haven’t; my friends and family members have still died, they have remained sick, they have continued to struggle with pain and heartache. But I know this astounding truth – that no matter what we face here on earth, be it the shame of Noah or the confusion of the Israelites, the sorrow of Ezra or the illness of the people we encounter in Matthew, even if our past is as scarlet as Saul’s – our friend Jesus has the power to forgive all our sins and to bring us into eternity with Him.

It is almost laughable to imagine being Noah or a member of his family in the ark packed with all those animals. But there are realities in this story that the children’s editions skip over. Besides the few family members that you are with, everyone else is gone. Any other relatives or friends these people had have died in the flood. They have watched the earth be utterly destroyed, or, worse, if they couldn’t see out, they have only heard the rain beating against the ark, the waves slamming against it’s sides. 150 days is a long time to be alone with your thoughts, in the dark, in the rain.

This is our God – the God of Noah, of Ezra, of Abraham and Joseph and Moses. This is the God who keeps us safe on all life’s journeys and through every raging storm. It is not lost on me that in the very same week that we read about the flood waters overtaking the earth and destroying all of God’s creation as Noah and his family rest securely in the ark, Jesus warns His followers of other storms that will come and wash away houses – anything – not built on the firm foundation of His Word.

“Yea, he’s the real deal. What you see – that’s who he is in real life, too.” A friend of mine is talking about a famous pastor he happens to know well. We have been discussing the very strange space of Christian celebrity, putting ourselves out there for the world to see while trying to keep our intimacy with Jesus alive in the hidden and quiet places, desiring people to glorify God for our life’s work, but not allowing the praise and accolades of others to cause us to swell with pride.

Here, He taught me what it truly meant to persevere through people who faced immense hardships with unshakeable faith and joy. Here he taught me what it meant to give with abandon and really never expect anything in return. Here in this place He was my only companion during seasons of intense loneliness, and my true guide and teacher when I had nowhere else to learn. He taught me the joy of mercy, the beauty of meekness and humility, the treasure of having nothing and yet having everything in Him.