I was pouring over an intense Biblical chart from the book of Titus, when I was suddenly interrupted with continual “ding” notifications. At 6:45 am, in the wee hours of Saturday morning, I looked at my phone to see several links to homes for sale in Minneapolis. Knox Ave, James Ave, Logan Ave, (all avenues for some reason… must be a Minnesota thing) all peaked my interest as I put Titus aside for a moment to browse homes that Bobby texted me.
These adorable little homes were bursting with vintage character, ceiling to floor, inside and out, while also possessing some new updates to make me feel a little bit more “millennial” if you know what I mean. Arched doorways, natural wooden floors, little peaked rooftops, updated kitchen appliances, homestyle front porches, and bonus little attic rooms that give you just the right place for something special. I’ve always dreamed of having a charming little attic room.
But they all have hardwood floors…
I have a bad taste in my mouth toward hardwood floors. Granted, they are gorgeous, natural, and everything cozy. Especially if you throw on a chic rug that pulls everything in your trendy home all together. But, well, I have toddlers. And klutzy toddlers at that. And I for some reason can’t imagine not having toddlers, nor imagine not having clumsy toddlers, so hardwood floors seem like an injury waiting to happen. Plus, when you wake up in the morning and your bare feet touch the ice-cold hard surface, it’s anything but cozy. And not to mention, I’m kind of obsessed with vacuuming. I LOVE carpet lines! People, I think carpet lines are dreamy! They are a semi-permenant reminder that your house doesn’t have toys littering the floor.
I need to tell Bobby right away. Carpet Bobby, carpet!
I get back to Titus, the kids wake up, Dolly rocks it on the potty (just started potty training…), then Bobby prepares the kids oatmeal with his special “dad touch” food dye to make it fun. Dolly chooses green, and Waldo red. (Have you ever food-dyed your oatmeal? Green oatmeal anyone? You can’t hate it ’til you try it!)
Anyway, so I begin to tell Bobby about my carpet concerns. “I can get over it if I need to, but I love vacuuming, but I also have a nice vacuum that actually vacuums on hard floors so maybe that’s good, but I don’t like the idea of hard floors with kids, and blah, blah, blah.”
He looks at me blankly.
“I was just sending you ideas of houses so we can get an idea of what’s out there.”
Which basically translates to Sarah-language as, “Sarah, take a chill pill. Breath. Simmer down. We are NOT there yet. You’re like 10 steps ahead of where we are.”
Is it human nature or just Kunkle nature to have an urge to figure everything out 10 steps ahead of time?
I think I am learning more about faith here. The book of Hebrews defines faith as “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Heb 11:1). In other words, faith is like a current confidence of a forward truth. Faith is like being comforted right now because of what God has promised for a time to come. Faith is believing God today for tomorrow, and knowing tomorrow will be okay because of what He has said today. Faith is being fine with not knowing the exacts about the future while also knowing exactly that the future will be totally fine. And really, more than just fine. And more than just okay. Because God has promised good for those who love him (Rom 8:28).
Faith is an ironic statement that explains how a Christian ought to think about the present with the future. Faith requires a combination of all aspects of our timeline and wholly trusting God when it all adds up. There is no time, nor season, nor number on the clock that is outside of God’s promises. That’s faith.
Now, don’t hear me wrong. I am not saying I need to have faith that God is going to give me carpet. I am not defining faith as, “the hope for carpeted floors, and a conviction that I will see them very soon.” I am not saying, “I trust God today that tomorrow he will give me a carpeted house.” Nopers. Because here’s the catch: GOD NEVER PROMISED ME CARPET! (I put that in all caps to sorta preach to myself here…)
Sure, I may really want a carpeted house. I might even claim I “need” a carpeted house. I can certainly pray for a carpeted house, and I can even more so decide hard and fast not to buy anything but a carpeted house. But the funny thing about faith… or maybe the beautiful thing about faith, is that I shouldn’t fuss AT ALL about a carpeted house! (Imagine that?!)
Faith tells me to focus on the things that are assured. Carpet is not assured. Carpet is not a promise of God (phew! And a good thing at that!).
Even the other day, as I was mulling over all the home decisions we will have to make, I stopped and prayed. I caught myself getting all a little too frantic about the details. And I was actually surprised by my prayer. I prayed something like, “God please give us a house that fits us. Give us a house that works, that is good for us, that is pleasant and nice and functional.” Afterward, I was kind of shocked. Very shocked actually. I think normally my prayer would have been something more like this, “God, please give us a perfect house! Give us an even better house than we have now, with new appliances, lush landscaped yards, [carpeted floors,] the ideal layout, and even a bonus something-or-other. Lord, surprise us with something even greater than we have and even greater than we deserve! For your glory of course…”
Have any of you been surprised by your prayers? Have any of you prayed a humble prayer instead of a prosperity prayer, just because that’s what came out? I never have. Not until now I guess. It’s one thing to plan it, a whole other thing to choose it, an entirely different act if it just happens. Does that not scream God’s divine work!? I only write this because it is such evidence of God’s mighty hand in my heart and mind. Leave it to Sarah, she’s gonna pray prayer #2. Leave it to God, and he’s going to give Sarah a heart that prays prayer #1.
So, basically, I’m using my prayer earlier this week to tell me today to STOP IT about the carpet. Stop it about the details. Stop it about trying to figure it all out. I said it before that seminary is just the next faithful step. Well, I need to remember to just take the next faithful step, instead of the next faithful one hundred steps.
Even if that step is on hardwood floors.