‘Call me, Bitter.’

That was what Naomi said when she lost her husband and two sons. She said, ‘Don’t call me Naomi. Call me Mara, because the Almighty has made my life very bitter’ (Ruth 1:20). And in her deep grief, she tried to drive away those she loved.

God’s exiled people experienced the same in nature. They came to a spring, but ‘they could not drink its water because it was bitter’ (Exodus 15:23). They backed away from it and rejected it, because bitterness has a way of driving others away.

But God stepped into both situations. God gave Naomi a grandson through the very person she tried to reject. He cured the water for his exiled people, the very water they refused to drink. And God will do the same for us. Let’s not drive others away in our great sadness and bitterness of heart, for it is often through these people that we find God’s hope.

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So why do I still cut myself down?

Many of us grew up being told, “You can be whatever you want to be!” But I have found that it isn’t quite true. I dreamed of becoming a ballerina, but instead I worked on a farm. Later, I wanted piano lessons… then to become a doctor. But none of these happened. Did I fail?

Over the years I have learned that God’s opinion of us never changes, whatever we accomplish. And he always loved us, whether we do important things or not, whether we are overweight or not, whether exhausted while caring for a crying baby or having a dream job. No matter what we do in life, or what we look like, he always considers us his beautiful children.

So why do I still cut myself down?

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Underneath us…

Sometimes I forget that I am loved, that God’s strong arms are around me. Jesus told of a runaway: “His father saw him and… ran to his son, threw his arms around him…” (Luke 15:20) That father had waited in agony. He had wept bucket-loads of tears. He had questioned himself, but he didn’t hold it against his son. He hugged him.

God is like that, for “the eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.’” (Deuteronomy 33:27) He knows us. He understands us. He embraces us in our hopes, dreams, in our confusion and grief.

His arms are safe. We can rest. His arms are tender. We can trust.

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