Elizabeth is a woman in 1st century Israel. Strike one.
Elizabeth is old. Strike two.
Elizabeth is infertile. Strike three.
Elizabeth experiences the death of a dream to be a mom, to be valued among her family and friends.
And then when God miraculously blesses her with a child, it’s not one who we might imagine to be the straight A, class president, organize of “Meet me at the Pole” prayer day. He’s a weird loner who eats bugs, doesn’t marry, and is beheaded as a young man.
You and I are Elizabeth.
We have things about us that make us feel “less than”. We’ve experienced the death of a dream. Or two.
Here’s the thing about Elizabeth and dreams and us.
For years, Elizabeth held her dreams with one open hand, but clung to God with the other.
The challenge for me each day is to hold my dreams in one open hand, while clinging to God with the other.
Our faith is in the character of our God, not the conditions of our day-to-day life.
Might we pray with one open hand, telling God about our dreams and relinquishing them to Him to refine or change as He will?
And pray with one clinging hand, reciting all about God that we trust in – His goodness, His presence, His strength, His mercy…?