Hi Friends,
I've been pondering this story lately. For anyone who is stuck in muck and nothing seems right ... here's hope!
What's in the Muck?
It looked like mud. It smelled like mud. It sloshed like mud. But my 12-year-old daughter, Bethany, insisted it was just a vial of pond water she was supposed to study for her science class.
She set the vial on the kitchen counter. “This is going to be awesome.”
I scowled. “Awesome? You’re studying mud.”
“Teacher says we’ll be surprised at what we see.”
“I see mud.”
She laughed, then jogged upstairs for the cheap microscope we’d bought her for Christmas. Her voice floated back down to me. “Just wait, Mom. You’ll love pond scum.”
I shook my head. “We’ll see about that. Now hurry up.”
A moment later, she trotted back down the steps, set up the microscope, and carefully placed a drop of dirty pond water between two slides. She slid the sample in place and bent over the eye piece. Her hand fiddled to adjust the focus.
I waited. Surely there was nothing good to see in a bunch of mucky water.
“Oooo, I knew it.” Bethany leaned closer to the eye piece. Then, her head shot up. A huge grin spread over her face. “Ha! Told you so. Look at that!” She stepped back and jabbed her finger toward the microscope.
“I still see mud.”
“You won’t when you look through the lens.”
I moved toward the microscope then peered into the eye piece. I caught my breath. Bethany was right. I didn’t see mud anymore. Instead, I saw life. The water teemed with amoeba, paramecium, and tiny specks of who-knew-what. The creatures waltzed through the water in a silent dance that was, indeed, awesome. Tiny legs swooshed. Tiny bodies floated with exquisite grace. As the creatures continued to glide and spin, I glanced up at Bethany. “I had no idea there was so much life in a little bit of muddy water.”
Her voice softened. “You wouldn’t see that in clear water.”
“I guess not.” But I’d wanted clear water - water that was sparkling, pretty ... and lifeless. It was in the murk, in the mud, in the guck, that real life was found.
Bethany again moved toward the microscope and bent to look through the lens. As I watched her, I remembered all the years of infertility I’d endured before she was born. Month upon month, turning to year upon year, of soaring hope followed by crushing disappointment. Over a decade filled with painful procedures, failed tests, miscarriage, and a thousand questions about God’s love and faithfulness. Back then, life was a lot like that drop of pond water. Nothing was clear. Nothing made sense. I didn’t know how I’d see my way through.
But in that moment, as I looked more closely at those 11 years, I could see life. I could see how God was at work, breaking me of the need to measure His love by my happiness, using every bit of muck and mud to form me into the person He wanted me to be. Despite all the murkiness, those years teemed with life and growth, even when I couldn’t see it. Even when all I could see was the mud.
Faith, then, is like a microscope. Hebrews 11:1 (NIV) says, “Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” Faith allows us to look into the muddy, murky, stinky, yucky places of life and see God at work. Through faith, what may seem like pond scum can become a thing of beauty.
In the 13 years since Bethany’s birth, I’ve found that life has a lot of murky moments. Things rarely go as expected. Plans go awry. God’s workings are often unclear, difficult to see, and hard to understand. But when I look at life through the microscope of faith, through the lens of hope -- when I focus in on God and his truth, then I truly see. God is moving. There is life in the murkiness, and there is purpose even in the muck.
And while I still prefer my water clear, I’m learning, little by little, to appreciate the pond scum. I’m learning to focus in through the muck, see the waltz of God’s workings, and whisper, “Oooo, I had no idea there was so much life in a little bit of muddy water.”
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