You are called to steward what you have been given. That can really bite us in the behind, can’t it?
What if I didn’t want what I’ve been given? What if the task is too dang hard? I tap out. I want a re-draw.
Have you ever thought that?
Brain tumor? Nope, pick someone else.
Divorce? Nah, I’m good, roll the dice again.
Bankruptcy? I don’t think so, someone else can take that on.
Lose a parent? A child? That one is definitely not my path.
Wouldn’t it be so much easier if we could just say, “Pass. Next scenario.”
I watched a wonderful sermon Sunday, and this was one of the topics discussed. God calls you to steward what you have been given well.
I was given wonderful parents. Gifted a stepdad that loves us as his own. A brother I adore. Aunts, uncles, cousins — a family that loves hard and loves deeply. I married into the same. Literally, my mother-in-law would pray your way into Heaven given the chance. My father-in-law would do anything we ever need. My brothers-in-law, sisters-in-law, nieces, and nephews on both sides love us deeply.
All of that support made life feel pretty easy to steward.
Then life reminded me that even the most loved, supported people are not exempt from heartbreak.
Nine years ago, I lost my father to a heart attack.
That was awful.
He loved me unconditionally despite all my flaws. He loved deeply. He was my protector.
He had his own struggles — hard ones. He had a tough upbringing, dropped out of school in ninth grade, but he never gave up. He still became a successful business owner and spent his life trying to take care of everyone he came in contact with, stranger or friend.
He loved hard.
In the last years of his life, he faced battles that stemmed from a series of painful life events. He loved God, but didn’t always follow the strict protocol I believed was necessary at the time.
You want to know how God blessed me without me understanding the full impact it would later have?
Just two days before his passing, Dad was in Texas working off the railroad. He was given a day off, and I remember the call.
“Sissy, I went to this cross statue 45 minutes from my job. I spent two hours walking around that statue. At the base, it has different walks of Jesus’ life. Sissy, I have never felt more at peace with the Lord than I do now. If He takes me today, I’m going to be okay.”
Dad knew where he was going. And by the grace of God, he told me days before he passed away so I wouldn’t have to worry.
That blessing is one I have thanked God for time and time again.
Dad faltered at times, but overall, he stewarded what he was given well. He was remembered for his love above his flaws. His humor above his temper. His faith in the moments he desperately needed it.
Then, six years after what I thought was the worst thing that could happen, we started this battle.
Brain tumor.
Inoperable.
My child.
Little treatment options.
Clinical trials only.
No cure.
No tap out. No new draw. No pass card.
How do you steward that kind of hand well?
I turned to God — the only One who can truly steward this well — and I cried out from the depths of my lungs for help, for mercy, and for healing.
Then I leaned on Him every single day for the last 32 months.
I’m sure God would tell you I have faltered at times. I have been angry, tired, impatient, absolutely not content. My expectations have been high — so very high.
But He would also tell you this:
I never stopped praying.
Never stopped asking for help.
Never stopped asking for guidance.
Never stopped searching His Word.
Because the only way I can steward the worst of the worst — or the best of the best — is by seeking His wisdom and strength in every detail.
I don’t think God asks us to steward life perfectly. I think He asks us to keep bringing it back to Him.
The joy.
The heartbreak.
The anger.
The fear.
The questions we are almost afraid to ask out loud.
Because sometimes stewardship looks less like strength and more like surrender.
Sometimes it looks like crying on the bathroom floor while still whispering prayers for healing. Sometimes it looks like exhausted faith that keeps choosing God anyway. Sometimes it looks like surviving one impossible day at a time while trusting He is carrying what we cannot.
I would never have chosen many parts of this story. If given the option, I would have begged for a different path. But even here, I have seen God show up in ways I never would have noticed otherwise. In the people who carried us. In the peace that made no sense. In the strength that arrived exactly when we needed it. In the reminders that He has never once abandoned us.
So I will keep stewarding what I have been given the best way I know how.
Not perfectly.
Not without questions.
Not without tears.
But with prayer. With faith. And with the confidence that God can hold every piece of this life far better than I ever could.
“Moreover, it is required of stewards that they be found faithful.”
— 1 Corinthians 4:2