By Laura Ayala
As Baptists, we believe in a loving God who meets us in our deepest need. We’ve often heard “God will provide” as a promise that everything will work out just as we hoped. But what about when it doesn’t? Our sister (CBF Staff) Dihanne Moore made me reflect on this today. See her writing below.
Right now, in Jamaica and Cuba, there are people standing in the rubble of their homes, communities, and lives, devastated by recent disasters. They are holding women and men, elderly and children, with empty hands and waiting for hope to arrive. They need us to be the hands and feet of Jireh right now. They need to see the love of a God who is present in the middle of disaster, a God who doesn’t abandon, a God who provides mercy and hope when the future feels impossible.
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We are called to witness to the presence of a loving God in moments of despair. Together, we can remind those in Jamaica and Cuba that they are not forgotten, that they are not abandoned, and that God’s provision often comes through the kindness of His people.
Pray. Give. Act. Let’s be the provision someone is waiting for today. Click here to give and bring hope to those in need.
Reframing Jireh by Dihanne Moore
“And Abraham looked up and saw a ram, caught in a thicket by its horns… So Abraham called that place ‘The Lord Will Provide’; as it is said to this day, ‘On the mount of the Lord it shall be provided.’” (Genesis 22:13–14 NRSV)
We’ve been taught to hear “God will provide” like it means, “I’ll get what I asked for.”
The job comes through.
The bill gets paid.
The diagnosis turns around.
Prayer answered. Provision proven.
But for a lot of people, it doesn’t look like that right now.
Some are on day 30 of waiting for a paycheck because of a shutdown.
Some are standing in what used to be their house after the waters of Melissa rolled through.
Some are crossing borders with children and nothing in their hands but hope.
And if “God provides” only means “everything worked out,” then what do we say to them?
Maybe we have to reframe Jireh.
When Abraham named that place “The Lord will provide,” he wasn’t saying, “God gave me everything I wanted.” He was saying, “God met me in the place I didn’t think I could survive.”
Provision wasn’t luxury. It was mercy in the moment. It was, “I see no way forward,” and then, somehow, there is a way forward.
Sometimes provision is:
A meal from someone who doesn’t have much but still shares.
A couch to sleep on when you’ve got nowhere else to land.
The one person who checks on you when everyone else moved on.
The breath to get through today when tomorrow still feels impossible.
Sometimes provision is not the storm stopping…it’s you not drowning.
Sometimes provision is not “fixed.” It’s you being “held.”
The middle still feels scary. The future is still foggy. But you are not abandoned in it.