Satan in the small stuff

My dear friend Sarah published a blog post today that I reallllllly needed to read. Sarah has been my sister in suffering this past year. While I was going through a terrible disease of pregnancy, she and her family were tried with their own slew of crazy and severe illnesses; but through it all, Sarah was a remarkable friend, always sympathizing with my weakness, offering healing words of truth and wisdom, and encouraging me to persevere. (Kind of reminds you of Jesus, doesn't it? Exactly.)

Sarah's latest post, "Do good with your suffering," spoke to me yet again--not as someone who has gone through this crazy, horrible illness, but as someone who is finding it hard to rejoice in the day-to-day struggles.

Counter-intuitively, I have been able to rejoice in the midst of great suffering and trials. This is only, only, only by God's grace. While I suffered with severe, nearly-fatal hyperemesis last year (you can read about it here), God gave me strength to praise him all the while. I remember being absolutely overwhelmed by the way others loved me during this time, most especially my husband, who was sacrificial, joyful, and unrelenting in his service to me--from cleaning the house, to taking me to doctor's appointments, to helping me bathe, to emptying the trash cans of my vomit--day in and day out, for months and months. Being surrounded by people who took care of me the way Jesus spoke of in Matthew 25:35-36 ("For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me"), I felt surrounded by love, enveloped by grace, and flooded by mercy. Even on the days when my sickness would just become too much, and I would weep all day for the pain I was in, God would still use my darkest hours to draw me close to Him.

It's a strange thing, then, that I would find my health restored, along with the blessing of a new baby, and yet finding myself in the day-to-day nearly unable to praise God.

There are a series of bestselling books called "God is in the Small Stuff" (including "God is in the Small Stuff, for Teens" and "100 Inspiring Readings from 'God is in the Small Stuff'"). These books, intended to showcase God's interest and appearance in every minute detail of our lives, have been called "a treasure of inspiration!" I guess it's ironic, then, that I usually only find Satan in the small stuff.

On most days, I find myself frustrated by the challenges of motherhood, angry over something my husband casually said or didn't say, resentful over relationships that don't look the same anymore, bored out of my mind with caring for a helpless infant, and exhausted from nights with choppy sleep. It's all the little things that get to me. 

I guess in my desperation last year, I had to rely on God. He brought me to the bottom to get me to look up. And I did. He was all I had to cling to as my health slipped away. But now, in a time when I should remember and praise, all I seem to do is complain. Why is it that I can't seem to pray for God's deliverance unless there's something really bad I need to be delivered from? Why don't I rely on Him for my daily bread, and instead wait till I'm starving?


Sarah's reminder that I can choose joy shouldn't be saved for those really desperate times when tears are my only food. I need to remember that Jesus was tempted in every way as we are, and that includes boredom. That includes the messiness of everyday relationships. That includes being just generally beat down by and frustrated with life. I can look to God as I endure common troubles in my relationships and in the roles to which God has called me. He isn't just the God of Big Redemption (though He definitely is that), but He's a God of redeeming every one of life's little frustrations.


God, help me to remember you in the small stuff.