It's All a Matter of Perspective

Standing at the kitchen counter, I felt a tug at my pants leg. Fully aware that my tiny granddaughter stood at my feet, I continued spreading peanut butter on a slice of bread. The tug became more insistent. 

“Just a minute, Caroline. Gigi can’t pick you up right now.” 

Caroline (lightly dusted with flour from Mommy's baking)A frown creased her little brow. Whimpering, she grabbed both pants legs, arching her back as if to will herself higher. 

“I know you’re hungry. Hang on. I’m making you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” 

My words only fueled her distress. With a final swipe of the knife, I added jelly to the sandwich, then smooshed the two pieces of bread together, completing the PB&J marriage. A wail at my feet signaled the end of Caroline’s patience. 

I understand Caroline’s frustration. 

From her limited perspective, nothing was happening. My back was turned, and I was clearly occupied with something other than her. To make matters worse, she had a need I wasn't responding to.

Or so she thought. 

If Caroline had been a little taller, she’d have seen the truth—that I wasn’t ignoring her. Not only that, but I was actively working on her behalf. 

I’m a lot like Caroline. 

I’ve learned where to go when I have a need, and that’s a good thing. I approach my heavenly Father with a gentle tug and a whispered prayer or plea. If he doesn’t respond immediately, I become more insistent. 

Some days his silence makes me feel as though he’s turned his back on me and is deliberately ignoring my urgent demands. Other times, I must confess, I launch a full-blown tantrum, complete with thrashing and wails. 

Like Caroline, I have a limited perspective. 


Tethered to earth by my mortality, I cannot see into the spiritual realm, where God is always at work. I forget he is my advocate, my provider, and my deliverer. Spiritual amnesia robs my memory of all the times he’s come to my rescue, and I panic, forgetting that his timetable is different from my own. 

This is when I must rest in what I know, not in what I see. God’s Word tells me the truth—that he knows me, loves me, and promises to care for me all the days of my life. 

“Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you” (Isa. 46:4). 

What are you struggling with today? Trust God with it.

May this be our prayer: 

Father, help me trust you when I cannot see you. Help me remember all you’ve done for me in the past and wait patiently when your answer is long in coming. Grow my faith as I learn to depend on you. In the strong name of Jesus I pray, Amen.



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Copyright 2012 by Lori Hatcher