We claim to trust God with everything, but all too often we act as if we’re out here on our own. We pray for God to “give us this day our daily bread” – then stress out when we forget to bring the crackers.

Here we are, 15 years later—him with a little less hair, and me with a few more pounds. And somewhere along the way, we’ve accumulated two children, a dog, a minivan, a car, and hundreds of photos in scrapbooks and picture frames in our modest two-story home with a fenced yard. We’ve also collected a few physical and emotional scars from the battles we’ve faced together over the years.

Dad was the first to arrive on the scene. Sure enough, the driver of the car was in pretty rough shape. His ribs were cracked, his leg obviously broken – but he was still alert.  Fearing the deteriorating weather conditions, dad somehow managed to move the man from the wreckage and into the warmth of his own vehicle.

We can no longer dwell in our little corners or hatred, resentment, fear and self-pity. It’s time to move onward and upward into a world where we listen, we respect, and we adapt.

Over the years, they'd heard countless stories of God’s sovereignty and power. They knew their family history –  how God had miraculously intervened time and time. But their faith did not depend on how He chose to answer their prayers.

I was reading the Book of Habakkuk, and thought it was, perhaps, an interesting parallel for so many of us today. Unlike other prophets who made proclamations on God’s behalf, Habakkuk boldly approached God with the heart-wrenching questions of humanity.

Whether it’s working on a dead-end project, being criticized for something you volunteered to do, putting up with a toddler's tantrum or figuring out how to tactfully respond to an infuriating email –  we all reach the end of ourselves at one time or another.

I type long, articulate arguments that will surely sway the masses to see the world as I see it. Then I systematically deconstruct my “brilliance,” ferociously pecking the delete key.