You ask Me questions. You shake your fists in anger. You want answers. Know this: I desire to talk to you. I want to communicate with you. Please, lets talk.
You have read, in My love letter, that I say to joy in the sorrows. To embrace the trials. But you tell Me you don't understand. You say it makes no sense, and that you need more answers. You don't trust Me.
In fact, you do the opposite. You whine and complain, and wish the trials had never come to you.
Don't be afraid. I still love you, despite your murmuring. But I have something far better for you than to simply walk through life with no challenges.
You hate the rain, but I created it. You mutter on your way to work, thinking of all the hardships that come because of it. Wet clothes. Messed hair. Running make-up. Soggy shoes. Don't whine, child. I love the rain. I dare you to love each sparkling droplet. Love the kiss it leaves on your cheek. Love the wildness of the wind. Instead of complaining about the dark clouds, take a glance at the vibrant green trees, and contrast it with the angry blue skies. I cherish those moments of beauty. To curse the clouds would be to hate the rose because of the thorns. A moment of pain brings many moments of beauty.
You complain about the snow, calling it slush, hating the slippery roads, the heavy shovels. Look instead, child, at the sparkle it gives at night. Rosy cheeks shine as little tongues try to catch snowflakes. Watch it dance as it swirls around you. Remember, I created it.
But you go way further than simply disliking My creation of nature. You whine about every difficulty that comes your way. Remember that time you lost your job? I had a greater one in store for you. The time you failed that course? You went to a different school, and I used you there. Remember, child, I am sovereign.
My heart aches when you do not trust Me, beloved. Why do you doubt? Did My death prove nothing to you? You do not trust Me in death, but instead you fear it, fight it, hate it. My servant said it well when she faced a loved one's death. “One learns the longer one lives that life and death are His to give and His to withhold. We who accept the one from His hands, should we not equally accept the other?”* Yes. Trust Me.
Open your eyes, loved one! Don't wait until the pain is passed to find pleasure in Me. Don't waste your time whining and complaining, when you could allow the hurt to thrust you further into My embrace. I know you don't understand. But must you? Must you know everything in order to trust Me? Would it really be trust and faith if you did?
I love you, dearest. Don't wait too long to cling to Me.
*Idelette Calvin (The wife of John Calvin)
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