The most significant question I’ve been asked this year is, “Where is your faith?”

Sam asked it of me when I was having a pretty ridiculous freak out about projects I wanted done before the baby was born. I was probably a few weeks out from my due date, he was up to his ears in work, and I’d made amazing progress in nesting. The house was 90% organized, declutteted, sorted, and neat in anticipation of a maid service to be hired for thorough cleaning before heading to the hospital. (I still get dreamy thinking about having a clean house that I didn’t personally scrub. It didn’t happen, but I am not giving up hope. It will happen before this kid turns one.)

Yes, well, I had a few things on my list left to do and all the urgency of a nearly-due prego was coming out one night at about 11pm at my tired husband. We exchanged some frustrated words, both asked for the other to understand, both felt misunderstood, and then he asked me, “Where is your faith?”

Wheres Faith? by Cindy Chen

It was probably pretty risky of him to ask that of me when I was already beyond melt down mode. But, I guess the worst that could happen is I could cry and be mad, and that was already the case.

Really I remember I was so offended on the first second he asked it that I couldn’t answer. The nerve. And he didn’t even ask it in that quiet, sexy movie hero kind of voice; he had kind of a stern, annoyed tone. But when I stayed quiet and sniffled a few times for dramatic effect (side note: 9-month pregnant women are prone to melodrama), I honestly evaluated where my faith did lie.

And a not just where did it lie, I realized I had the opportunity and responsibility in that very moment to decide where my faith was going to rest.

Was it going to be in my abilities? In Sam’s abilities? In God’s grace?

Listen. It didn’t actually matter about my projects. I honestly can’t remember what I wanted done; it was probably something like setting up the crib (which we still haven’t actually used even though T is 6 months old) or Sam organizing the garage or putting away his semi-clean-semi-dirty clothes or some such nonsense that doesn’t make a baby’s entry to the world any better than not.

Could I really trust that, one, I would receive the grace to accomplish everything that was needed, or, two, if I didn’t, everything would be okay and I’d have the grace to handle it if things didn’t get finished the way I wanted?

I had to vocalize it before I believed it. And I had to choose it before I could vocalize it.

Shakily, I said, “I know that God can help us do what we need to. And if it doesn’t get done, it’ll be okay.”

That’s pretty much the only conclusion faith can come to: His grace will give everything I need to overcome this obstacle. Or it won’t go the way I planned, and it will still be alright, because He will give everything I need to receive from him in that instance, also.

Faith relies on the free gift of grace. The two are inseparable. We have faith because He has lavishly given us all that we need. In Christ. In our daily breath. In our everyday stuff. We only have to look to Him and receive grace for the moment. There is no exceptional situation outside of this truth.

If this is the way you deliberately think about your circumstances, you cannot lose. A heart set on hoping in the provision of God will not be disappointed, because there is grace no matter how he provides.