Crystal Kershaw

It was so awkward; I just wanted to move on. Passing through Indianapolis on the way to a wedding, we had a couple hours to take my friend Angie to dinner. Angie is a sought-after dogsitter, and she asked my husband and I to meet her at a client’s home. While Angie shared interesting tidbits about the two dogs bounding around us, I felt a sharp twinge on my ankle.  The fluffy little Shih Tzu bit me.

I wish I could have heard the back and forth between Jesus and his disciples that evening.  Certainly, everyone was tired. It had been a long, surprising day. When a flash mob of 5,000 shows up, ministry gets interesting. No one had made provisions for the day; no bases were covered, everyone just appeared. Jesus uses the opportunity to demonstrate the extravagance of God’s unfettered, providential hand, and point out that he alone offers “the bread of life” (John 6: 35-40). The miracle of the feeding of the 5,000 also gives us insight into how a small sacrifice can make a powerful, eternal impact. It is a case study into a giver’s heart.

Underconfidence in the Lord’s power. David’s accounting would not build his faith when God called him to action against enemies that outnumbered him. He would be tempted to doubt and fear. My accounting of what seems to be a no answer serves the same purpose. It undermines my confidence in a holy God who works independently of circumstances, time, and space.  When I despair, I choose to trust my own instincts instead of what I know and have seen of God’s mighty power. This stance inevitably leads to fear.

I prayed about it for years really–not just a casual prayer here and there, but those fervent, wake up in the middle of the night prayers. And there it was…a sort of answer, right in front of me in a clear, direct way. There could be no confusion. If this was the answer, God’s answer was no.

I love how lyrics bubble up in our minds, like small flowers upended from the seafloor during the ebb and flow of life. On a quiet drive, a long walk, or when I’m cleaning my house, my ears are wide open to God’s voice. When a precious phrase or refrain springs up from the depths, I recognize the work of the Holy Spirit. It grabs my attention. It leaves a mark.

I’ve never seen the house that stands down the long lane, but a small sign stuck by the side of its mailbox gives me pause. That sign simply reads, “The Boulevard of Broken Dreams.” It’s not a sign created by Green Day’s marketing team in homage to their song of the same name. No, this one is unique, and it looks homemade. Since I pass this house frequently, I noticed the owner took the sign down during the holiday season. But now, in the season of winter chill, it stands securely in the mud and grime.