Can a God, jealous for my love, still be true when I am jealous for more than Him?

“I’m jealous, Lord,” I confess in a mourning voice, “of what others have. It wouldn’t be so bad,” I continue, “if I didn’t seem to have so little myself…” I pause as my wandering glance is arrested by several reasons for thanksgiving peaking out at me, daring me to be honest about what God has given me.

I try, but cannot address those things in words; rather, I hope that gratitude will be a whisper He hears from the recesses of my heart. How I need Him to listen carefully, I think to myself. Otherwise it would be a disaster: He could misunderstand my words for those of a grasping child who recognizes none of His faithfulness. He could become fed up with me and turn away from me forever.

Not completely over my fear, I am forced to continue the emptying of my soul. The potency of my feelings will allow me no other recourse. “Daddy, it’s just that I was having such a hard time being content as it was, and then–tada–there is my nemesis with more than me in just the places that I was hoping You would finally decide to bless me.

“I try to put it out of my mind; to be grateful in spite of this, but…I can’t take it! Why would You double things up on me like this? I thought You had mercy on Your children. But this feels more like I’m being squished–and quite on purpose! Please explain Yourself, Lord.”

And then His answer to my pleas falls upon me like a blanket of silent snow. Each word communicates that He is still here with me–whatever my condition and whatever imagination I lack regarding the benefits of His grace:

I do not have to explain Myself to you. All you need is for Me to give Myself to you, to reveal Myself in mystery; to captive your heart with healing that transcends the trials I’m using to show your need for Me to be these things to you.

You do not need change, My child; you need patience that waits upon Love with confidence which no circumstances can shift or shortchange. That’s what you need and I am giving it to you.

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