Actions Speak Lounder than Words

I know it may sound like bragging, but I have a great little boy.  He is polite, fun, and has a very soft heart.  This is not to say that he is perfect.  However, he is very good at saying he's sorry.  Sometimes, I will admit his "I'm sorry" comes out so fast that I begin to question it's authenticity.  How do I know he really means it?

James 2:14-17

14 What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save them? 15 Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. 16 If one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it? 17 In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.

When I hear my son say he's sorry, I expect to see his actions turn 180 degrees and head the opposite direction of whatever caused the apology in the first place.  If his actions do not take this turn, I will admit that I question wether he was ever sorry in the first place.

How easy it is for me to state one thing and do another.  I want to believe that God is my provider and that I have nothing to worry about.  Then, why does my anxiety level sky rocket when my bank balance gets low?  Why do I worry so much about my children?  Why do I feel like I need to keep so many balls in the air?

What lesson am I teaching my children if I say to trust God and then I run screaming into the night scared that the bottom will fall out of the boat?  

Our actions prove what we believe.  I often claim trust, but my actions poke holes in my theory.  The desire to trust wholeheartedly is within me.  The ability to trust wholeheartedly is not like leaning back in an easy chair.  Sometimes it feels much more like paddling a pontoon up a river with only one little paddle.  The choice to attempt to move the boat with that small paddle is the hardest part.  I forget that God can calm the most outrageous of rivers and the very depths of my heart.  How often do I look at the little paddle in my hand and toss it over my shoulder and yell for help at friends that seem to be cruising by me in their speed boats.  I don't even try.  Thankfully, many of my closest friends carry towropes with them! 

 

When I feel as though I'm falling behind and have no paddle to try to make my way back to reliance on Jesus, I thank the Lord above that he often sends a friend to pull me safely to shore where I can begin to slowly recover.  

What I realize on the shore is that I never lost my paddle, I just chose not to use it.