We have cats at the mission house. Flow, a matronly ginger-haired she-cat and her two kittens: Amor and Grizzly. Amor is white and orange, with a spot that’s shaped like a heart on her stomach, and Grizzly is slate-grey with the fur texture of a Webkinz stuffed animal. Every morning, they spawn at the kitchen door, waiting for a compassionate racer to spoon them the dregs of milk from their cereal bowls. But this morning, Amor and Grizzly are stuck on the roof while Flow paces worriedly on the ground below. Ellie and Katie hang off the balcony, hollering at Abbi, who is waving a broom towards the terrified kittens. They don’t seem very impressed with our method of saving their lives.
Recently, the Lord has been asking me to step into scary things. I strongly related to Grizzly and Amor, for while they were safe on the roof, their life there was not sustainable. In the same way, the life I am currently living is good for now, but when it comes time to step into something new, will I be ready to catch a hold of God’s broom handle and trust that He won’t let me fall?
I am a girl of little faith, disproportionate to the magnitude of the God I serve. But He has promised, “if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.” (Matthew 18:20) Is it my faith or His power that moves the mountains? It must be His power, made perfect in weakness. And so with His power, which overcomes our insignificance, I will step out of the boat and onto the waves, leaping into His arms off of the roof. Never will I fall, never will I fail, for He will lay His hand upon us, hemming us in behind and before. Stretch out your hand, ignoring the smallness of your faith and fixing your eyes on the strength of His arms.
We eventually did get the kittens off of the roof. Abbi climbed up on a chair and snatched them from the edge. They are currently frolicking in the fallen leaves as if they didn’t just spend the whole morning meowing in terror until the whole house was awake. Flow is bathing herself underneath the kitchen table, licking her orange fur until it is polished clean. I wonder if, when I take hold of God’s hand, and make it off the roof, I’ll be just like them, oblivious to the intensity of the Savior’s affection for me, or will I sink into a deeper, more reverent love for my hero.
