I used to pray that my loved ones would be safe. But it didn't always work. My idea of safety is prevention of all harm and, preferably, any difficulties. But over and over, God had other plans. 

A diagnosis came in, and cancer devoured. A bus lost control, and horror happened.

Day after day, we hear of terrible tragedies all over the world, many happening to those who call Jesus Lord.

Doesn't He care? Doesn't He hear?

Sometimes my own fair has felt as frail as a thread as I cling to the surety that God is good and He knows what He is doing. But the questions still haunt.

Recently I've been trudging through the book Bonhoeffer, by Eric Metaxas. It's not easy reading, but it is SO worthwhile. I've stalled on these words by twenty-eight-year-old Dietrich Bonhoeffer as Hitler is plotting to completely take over the German church.

"There is no way to peace along the way of safety. For peace must be dared, it is itself the great venture and can never be safe. Peace is the opposite of security. To demand guarantees is to want to protect oneself. Peace means giving oneself completely to God's commandment, wanting no security, but in faith and obedience laying the destiny of the nations in the hand of Almighty God, not trying to direct it for selfish purposes."

Wow.

It is natural and normal to desire safety for those we love. I would never ask for my children to suffer, and I sometimes rail at God when He allows it. But He desires much more for us than a physical sense of security. He wants us to trust Him. No. Matter. What.

My parents did their best to protect me as I grew up, to the point where I often felt stifled. But they could not keep me from getting sick time and time again. Their best efforts could not prevent a stranger from grabbing and molesting me as I walked home one evening from a friend's house. 

But throughout my life, God has been molding me into the person He planned me to be. Part of the molding hurts.

Right now these words spoken so many years ago are challenging me to rethink my prayers. Do I dare trust God completely and pray, not for safely, but for peace? No matter what?

Jesus said, "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid." (John 14:27)

My greatest desire for all those I care about is that they will trust God with all their heart, strength, and mind.. He knows what it will take for that to be fulfilled. So from now on I will pray that they will, in everything life throws at them, trust God completely, and that they will live in the peace that comes from faith and obedience.

No. Matter. What.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."  Jesus Christ (Matthew 11:28-30)

I am tired.

The last few weeks have been a combination of whirlwind and roller coaster. Hubby and I made a too-quick visit to Saskatchewan where we were thrilled to celebrate Thanksgiving and my Very Important Birthday with family and friends.

But while there we also learned of a terrible traffic accident that took several lives and severely injured my uncle and his wife. That news came the day after we were told that a dear friend's season of remission from active cancer had ended.

Back at home, we've been burdened by more news of cancer and other dire health issues in dear ones, hopes raised and dreams delayed. Soaring heights and debilitating lows. You know - Life.

But it wears me out.

This morning I asked God what He wanted me to do today, and His whisper in my heart said, "Rest."

That brought to mind the verses above. I absolutely love the explanation of Jesus' invitation from an old farmer. Apparently when an untrained ox begins to work, he is yoked with an older, stable, and well-trained animal. The tutor ox carries the burden with the young one merely keeping pace.

So in Jesus' illustration, He takes our burdens, puts them on His own back - that beaten and scarred back - puts His arm around our shoulders, and leads us, step by step. Into His life and His rest.

Isn't that beautiful?