Stories of a good God

So often in our lives, futures imagined, dreams envisioned, must be laid down. It is in these moments we have a choice: do we allow God to direct our steps, even though we are all at sea, disappointed, hurt; or, do we try to control everything, and keep directing our lives where we think we should go, regardless.

A while back, I felt a stirring in my heart.  We had just changed churches, and we were still trying to find our feet.  Our old church had been big, loud, there was a weekly mosh pit I had danced and worshipped in, and people were hungry for things of the Spirit. The church we had landed in was small, intimate, and sedate, at least sedate compared to what we had been used to, but regardless, we felt it was the right fit, and we believed the church was on the cusp of revival.

I was keen to serve somewhere.  I felt an urge to start a regular prayer group, and a recently made friend and I started fortnight meetings to pray for our church, the community and beyond; but, I was still restless.

Something was stirring.

Back in the late 1990s I often travelled to Far North Western Australia, where I provided legal representation to people who were illegally entering Australia by boat. It is common to refer to these people as “boat people,” or illegal migrants (because of their status of having no visas of entry). They predominantly came from Iraq. Some came from Algeria. A few were from China. That was the mix of countries when I was working. After I finished at that law firm the Afghans came – they were tough cases.

The stories moved me, the politics of human rights law saddened me, and the other lawyers laughed at me, saying: “you wear your heart on your sleeve” (a weakness in their mind). To this I would respond, “if I was in their position I would rather someone like me representing me, then someone like you.”

I didn’t stay in refugee work for long, and I left my position as junior lawyer to start a business of my own as a corporate consultant, while providing immigration legal advice to people on the side, just to keep my toe in. I referred any refugee work – it was too emotional, and too political. That was until 10 years ago.

When my youngest was about three, I received a call from a Melbourne businessman who wanted migration advice for a Christian Egyptian family he had met while overseas. The father was an Anglican Minister. The businessman wanted to help them. It was to be a straightforward case, but once involved I realised there were very serious persecution risks at play for the family involved. Each time I went to refer the case on, each time I tried to shake myself loose, I would feel God on it – He wanted me to see it through. While the case would have qualified as a refugee case (they were being persecuted for their faith) we did not run the case as a refugee case. Instead, we needed to run the case differently (the refugee landscape had changed and was getting increasingly difficult to negotiate). It took years, but we got the family into Australia under a different visa category. This case confirmed that I didn’t want to do refugee work ever again! The responsibility, the sorrow and the desperation, the trauma…

The Egyptian family that came established the first Arabic Anglican Church in Australia. Other Arabic churches exist, but not of this denomination. And, as I write, they now lead two such churches in Victoria (one in Melbourne, the other in Geelong). They head up a vibrant, growing Christian community. All led by the beautiful family who God would not let me shake loose – people I now call friends. The family reach the Arabic world in Melbourne, and people come to Christ.

Anyway…

We had just changed churches. All my dreams, plans, hopes and vision had fallen away. I was a ballet mum in a world of ballet I never saw coming (yes God has a sense of humour) and I was in a small quiet church, albeit, earmarked for revival. I wanted to serve God, but I did not see any opportunity to do so in my passion and gifting, and so I prayed a prayer that I do not recommend, unless you are ready to just obey!

I prayed: “God, I can’t see where or how I can serve you here. I want to honour leadership. There is no favour to teach what I know, or to release what I carry, but I want to serve you, what do you want me to do, I’ll do anything you ask me to do, I just want to serve you.”

I prayed the prayer, and I thought I knew how God would answer it.

That weekend we attended the opening of the new Arabic Anglican Church, on the other side of town. We were to witness the baptisms of recent converts, and the church’s official opening.  The service was full of the Holy Spirit. The worship was wonderful – all in Arabic, with a different beat, a different feel, but God was there, and I could tangibly feel Him. It was fun.

We stayed for dinner, and as we tried to eat, the people pressed in on me.  Refugees from Syria, refugees from Iraq, all trying to get the rest of their family here. People with heart break and need. They represented the cases I avoided for years. I prayed for many, prophesied over others, and listened to their stories. They all wanted my help, for word had got around.

Heading home I said to my husband I was feeling a stirring. I confessed what I had prayed. I could not believe it – God was calling me to act for these people, and it horrified me. Yes, I felt for them, but I did not want to do their legal work for them, I didn’t want to feel their pain, hear the details, they were all so desperate. And the legal landscape had radically changed – I was underqualified… but God!

When I prayed, I had not envisioned this! When I prayed, I thought He would release me into my gifting in our church, in our local body, somewhere… anywhere. I thought He would place favour on me to minister, that I would have a green light to step up into my calling, while honouring, supporting and loving our leadership, or even maybe out into elsewhere. Anywhere where I could ignite others with a passion for God.

It was not to be.

Instead, I walked into the pain, trauma and hurt of these people.

I argued with God that others were more qualified, better trained, up to date, and professional. God just came straight back at me: “Step up.”

Every time I went to Him He would say: “step up.”

And when I argued I couldn’t do it, He just said “trust me – step up.”

I suggested I refer, that others were better than me in this area of law He just said: “yes, but they won’t pray as you will.”

And so I stepped up…

I did not know what I was doing, but each step of the way he would say:

“just do the next thing you know to do.”

When I quietened myself enough, I would know what I had to do next. The anxiety was dreadful. The stories traumatic. One day I cried my way through the reading and the videos, but each time I turned aside to talk to Him he would say again:

“Just do the next thing you know to do.”

So, in this time of change, turmoil and challenge, when our plans for 2020 seem lost in a haze of virus, lockdown, and shifting worlds. In a year that is not what we thought it would be, I encourage you to do as I am also trying to do (thankfully with friends and wise counsel by my side) and ask Him what he would have you do. Instead of looking at the entire job at hand, the surrounding trauma, the pain within you, while acknowledging that it is there, ask Him:

“What next?”

And then do it…

Just do the next thing you know to do.

Then it would be: “send that email”, “write that statement”, “make that phone call”…

Little baby steps.

And once taken I sought Him again, I would breathe, pray, listen, obey…

And as you do, the pieces will fall together, the focus will come, and the peace and the joy will rest upon you because…

God is Good!

Comments on: "Just do the next thing – God is Good!" (20)

  1. Love this! Thank you Beth for being so faithful to do the next thing, even when many times it seemed (or actually was) inconvenient. Your life and words have touched more than you know.

    • The beautiful Lauren. I hope you’re well and thriving. Love to know what you’re up to these days. – I love the updates we get. Think of you at times, and I love the colour in your life. Big hug.
      Beth XX

  2. Jessie said:

    This is direction for me. Thank you 🙏

    • Oh wow – you’re welcome.
      Big hug my US friend.
      Laying the law down in this season now, and now applying the same principal to the next few things… God is Good… at stretching me LOL.
      Much love Jessie to you and yours
      Beth X

  3. What an amazing powerful testimony! This really touched my heart. God bless you🙏

    • Thank you for reading, commenting, and for your kind words of encouragement. Your words actually took me by surprise. Maybe especially in these transitional days we just need to know small acts of obedience matter greatly. I trust you are well, ok and at peace there in the US. We’ve been praying for you all. Blessings, Beth

      • God bless you Beth my sister😉🙏
        p.s. I am in Scotland🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

      • Oh dear – I did know that when I read your about last week, but that slipped my recall this morning. I’m sorry. With Scottish ancestors I hope you forgive me 😬🤣
        Well I am now going to pray for Scotland 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 😊

      • It is not a problem Beth😉
        My mum always used to say : ” you can call me onythin’ ye like but, dinnae ca’ me doon!” Wise words I have always followed. 🤣
        🇦🇺🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

      • And the translation? 🤣

      • It doesn’t work in English. In Scots ca’ is pronounced caw. Ca’ for call as in a name etc. But it could be used as interchangeable with the word knock (me down). So the full sentence : you can call me anything but, don’t call me (knock me) over.” The alliteration only works in Scots, that’s a real “scunner!” Look it up.😁

      • Oops…over or down in that sentence, lol.

      • “Don’t call me a push over” we have a similar here. “I’m not a push over”.
        Bless you and your night/day 🤣🌷

  4. pugglecute said:

    Awesome, put it in your book!

    >

  5. I understand this feeling of overwhelm. That God is asking too much, the trauma and pain is too great and we are too frail to stand under the load. But that is the very time I hear the voice of the Holy Spirit say ” take my yoke upon you, for My burden is light and you will find rest for your soul”.
    As I have sought to support a son with major addiction and mental health issues that threaten to pull me under I have learnt that the best question to ask is not ” Why me Lord? ” but “What do you want from me today, and how can I lean into You to get that done ?”
    Thank you for serving the vulnerable with skill and prayer, and thank you for reminding me that God is indeed good.

    • Hello my beautiful friend. You would indeed understand this all too well, and have stood firm and shone well, even in your darkest of times. I honour you, for that, for your love and support of me, and for all you do for others. Yes indeed – God IS Good! We continue to pray XX

  6. Brilliant!!!

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