23 So when Joseph arrived, his brothers ripped off the beautiful robe he was wearing. 24 Then they grabbed him and threw him into the cistern. Now the cistern was empty; there was no water in it.
Twelve years ago, I lived in a little brick house on a corner. My days were filled with three little boys – 9, 4, and a new baby – teaching kindergarten just a few blocks behind my house. On the weekends came dinner with friends, walking to Sunday services, and lots of family time. My husband was in ministry, serving at the church across the street.
One July day, my life imploded. Without any warning, I became a single mom.
Over the next few months, I’d pick up a new title – divorced – and face the challenge of rewriting the script of my life. No one plans for this stuff. It knocks your feet out from under you and takes your breath away.
One day I needed time to think, pray, and seek God for the answers I needed.
I left my two older children with my parents, took the baby (snoozing in his car seat), and drove to a pond nearby. The lawn chair teetered on the uneven grass as I plopped into it to grapple with the lofty truths of God’s love as it applied to my little corner of overwhelm.
Imagine what it was like for Joseph, who, in one day, went from wearing robes that made him feel safe and special to being at the bottom of a pit. Thrown in there by someone he trusted.
I could relate.
As I prayed, I thought of passages like Psalm 23, “The Lord is my Shepherd, I lack nothing.”
That was a little hard to swallow. At this moment, it felt like I lacked a whole lot of things. I felt like God asked me, “Do you trust me?” It was all I could do to shrug off a, “Yeah, I guess I do.”
In the margin of that same page was written Philippians 4:19. I looked it up, “God shall supply all your needs, according to his riches in glory.” It felt like he asked again, “Do you trust me?” “I said I did, even though it was hard. Yes, I do.”
Then my car died in the mid-summer blazing heat of Texas. I’d run out of gas with no one nearby. I scrambled for my phone to call my parents.
I didn’t have it. I’d brought my baby and my bible that day, nothing else. No purse, no phone, no money.
At this point, I had to laugh and throw out a prayer, “Well, God, if ever there was a chance to provide where I can’t, this is it.”
I turned around to realize a little red truck had pulled up across the field. I walked over to the gentleman in the truck and explained what had happened. He kindly went to get gas to fill my tank.
I knew God was teaching me that he meant what he said.
Are you wondering where God is? Are you sitting alone, remembering his promises, but not understanding what you’re experiencing?
Even when people are absent, God is near. He is not waiting on you to do something special for him to show up. He loves you right where you are and is already there, with you, in it. Even when you feel you’re at the bottom of the well, you can trust you aren’t alone and that his plans for you are good.