It’s easy to tell a person to look to God instead of looking at people when humans fail.

Easy, that is, until you have had your faith shaken, tested, and tried as a result of another’s wrongdoing.

I’ve walked through times of fire in my relatively short lifetime. I’ve suffered the grief of expected and unexpected family death, I’ve lost unborn children, I’ve watched my husband walk away into war more than once. But for me, none have compared to the shuddering of foundations following my father’s recent adultery, betrayal of my mother’s trust and rejection of his family.

Why?

Because, as an adult daughter, my father’s abandonment of everything he said he believed caused not only my faith to be tested, but also put into question my very sense of identity and philosophy of life. The former difficulties were life changing and painful, no doubt, but they ultimately served to solidify my faith in God, His strength and His sovereignty. The latter trial was the first with the dark potential to truly ship-wreck that faith.

I once knew a man, a family friend, who had walked away from the Lord. According to his family, he had attended church faithfully, seeming to walk with God. He’d sung in choirs, been active in service. I’d even heard he’d been an adult Sunday School teacher.

It was difficult for me to believe their descriptions of his past because by the time I met him, he was bitter, sad, lonely. His eyes were empty, his smile shallow.

They said it was because his wife had left him and taken his children. They said he was mad at God.

Once, I heard him say he couldn’t trust a God who could be so easily tossed aside. He said he was searching for evidence of God in at least one person who was genuine.

I frowned, my face full of worry and concern, and corrected him. We couldn’t view God that way; people’s failures aren’t always a reflection of Him.

Mere days ago, and years since my contact with this man, I sat on my couch, face resting in my palms, and whispered,“Please, Lord, show me Yourself. Show me that You’re real, and that everything isn’t a farce. Show me just one person who is truly genuine.”

And then I remembered the man, that family friend, and his disillusionment.

I’m not saying it’s right. I’m not saying it’s acceptable.

I’m just saying I understand how it happens.


It’s no surprise to any recent reader here that the past few weeks have been difficult in the wake of my Marine leaving for a year in Afghanistan.

The sleepless nights with our little boys, the loneliness, the ache of growing disconnection. Never easy.

But I have an confession.

For the first two weeks after my husband left, I didn’t read my Bible.

I only prayed at mealtimes and bedtime with the boys.

I was tired of relying on God. I wasn’t sure He was even paying attention to my hurting, and steeled myself against disappointment.

But here’s where Truth brought it all crashing down:

He’s never, ever stopped paying attention to my hurting.

He’s never, ever left me alone to struggle.

He’s never, ever deafened His ear to my cry.

And this time was no exception.

He was carrying me, whether or not I acknowledged Him. And it was His kindness and goodness that brought me back to my knees, to repentance.

He is still the same God He was when my family lost several members over only a few years’ time. He’s still the same God who comforted me when the doctor told me my second little one had gone from my womb into Jesus’ arms. He’s still the God who carried me through the days when my husband was in Iraq and I was living in a new town, mothering a small toddler and a newborn.

He’s still the God who has endured over the past year of my father’s scandal and tossing aside of everything he ever said he believed. He’s the God who has shown this wandering daughter of His only unconditional love, even as I have bathed in confusion and hurled anger at the sky.

He’s still God.

It took this first month of deployment for me to finally pull down the steely barriers caused by another’s sin and my own disillusionment. It required this storm for me to see God’s love, His simplicity, His grace. I’ve been brought to my knees, face to the ground, heart open and bare.

And if it’s going to take a year of my husband being at war, leaving me clinging only to Jesus, I’ll embrace it… but from this face down posture.

Because from here, other people’s failings aren’t so visible.

I can only see Jesus.




I am crawling nearer, nearer on my knees

Pleading, Jesus, Jesus, help me please,

I’m desperate for Your presence to be near to me

Blessed be the storm that drives me to my knees


How can I bless what causes me pain?

How can I rejoice as I am broken again?

How can I stand, when all is falling down?


Blessed be the storm that drives me to my knees


[audio:http://ashleighbaker.net/wp-content/uploads/2010/04/Blessed-Be-the-Storm.mp3]

Just as my husband deployed, someone sent me the link to this song she’d written and recorded on a little hand held device. She simply said it had come from the depths of her heart during a recent crisis of faith and she wanted to pass it on to me as I faced another storm.

I’ve been known to put this song on repeat beside my bed as I fall asleep, and I still can’t listen without a lump in my throat.

Naomi can be reached here.

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