April 15: Shoelaces

A friend of mine calls it “untied shoelaces.” It’s those loose ends we have no control over. It’s that nagging, perpetual reminder of something unfinished, unanswered, or unchangeable in your life that keeps you up at night. They are the problems that you face when you don’t see any solutions in sight. You pray and you wait. And, like an untied shoelace, it flaps around, whipping you around the ankles, or worse, causes you to trip up and fall flat on the ground.

As I went into Passion Week leading into Easter, like most of us, I spent time reading the gospel account of Jesus’ crucifixion, burial, and resurrection. I tried to imagine myself there, wondering how my faith would have been tested to see Jesus sent to his horrific death. As the mockers cried out, “If you are King of the Jews, save yourself!” (Luke 23:37), the humble Savior remained nailed to that cross, becoming obedient to the point of death (Philippians 2:8). He could have stepped down and shown those onlookers a thing or two about the magnificence of God--and that would have been miraculous in itself!—but God would soon show a greater power, the power Jesus wields over death. On Good Friday, that miracle was yet to come…and the people did not see it coming.

I was struck by the fact that as we wait for God to answer prayer, we cannot  conceive the miracles God has in store or the wisdom he will use to sovereignly plan our lives! We are limited in our human minds. Romans 11:33-34 says, “Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways! For who has known the mind of the Lord, or who has been his counselor?” No matter how hard I try, no matter how much I am convinced I know the solution to my problem, God has a greater plan and a far more miraculous outcome than I can possibly imagine. Hallelujah! As I look back on my life, I know I’d be in a big mess if God answered all my prayers the way I thought was best. His ways are good. His ways are just. And they are always better than what I think I need. 

Psalm 138:7-8 says, “Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you preserve my life; you stretch out your hand against the wrath of my enemies, and your right hand delivers me. The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me; your steadfast love, O Lord endures forever. Do not forsake the work of your hands.”

Which brings me back to those untied shoelaces in our lives. Oh, how we all long for there to be a neat and tidy bow! Much like a toddler, we wish we could tie the knot ourselves and move on with our day/lives…but that would mean we would never learn to rely on our Heavenly Father, and what an opportunity we miss when we take our eyes off the God of the universe! 

In 2018, I faced a great unknown as my mom was diagnosed with aggressive cancer. As the life that she was used to came to a screeching halt, I became her caregiver and nurse, something that I felt ill-equipped for. She entered our home to live out the remainder of her days in a wheelchair, and I found myself relying on God more than ever. I could not have foreseen the blessings that came from stretching my faith, from learning to watch and wait on the Lord daily. Was there heartache? More than I thought possible. Was everything perfect along the way? Not in the least. Would I have preferred God to tie these “shoelaces” immediately? YES! But over and over again he reaffirmed his love for us and kept us in peace. When my mom breathed her last breath, and I knew she was in the arms of Jesus, the truth of his resurrection meant more to me than ever before.

As we continue to Shelter in Peace, don’t get caught up in your laces. God knows they are untied. His plan and purpose for you will be fulfilled as you trust in him. 

Heavenly Father, teach me to rest in your care. 

Remind me in the day of your power over life, 

and in the night, your power over death. 

Help me not to keep my eyes cast on my shoelaces, 

but on you, Lord, where my help comes from! 

Because of the risen Savior, Jesus. 

Amen.

Shelter in Peace,

Antonia Olfert