Saturday, March 15 ~ Steadfast
~~Psalm 94:18
When I thought, “My foot is slipping,” your steadfast love, O LORD, held me up.
~~I was ‘raised up’ within the loving congregation of the Paris First Christian Church. I have always seen and felt the world through loving eyes. I was very involved in youth group and saw the world of the turbulent 60s through the filter of God’s love. I’m sure I was Miss Goody Two Shoes, but I didn’t feel that way!
Then I went to college! Out on my own, far away from home, I was exposed to the Wicked World of the early 70s. I embraced much of it, but I didn’t leave my Christian roots behind. At major crossroads, I have prayed for guidance and have received the power of his steadfast love from within, listening to ‘that still, small voice.’ I had somehow learned to trust that voice through those formative years.
I trusted that voice when it told me that a life in the music business was not for me. Soon afterwards, I found my helpmate, Mac Whitt, who I would marry after I finished my college career. I followed that voice by accepting a job here in Paris and moving back (after I had sworn I would never move back!). I followed that voice when Mac and I decided to have a child later in our lives. That voice told me to explore other avenues which resulted in our precious child. I had almost given up. I followed the voice when I left the job I loved to be a stay-at-home mom. What a blessing! My inner voice led me to my work with special needs students at school when I went back to work. Another blessing!
My inner voice has led me through the toughest battles. I have faced the illness and death of my husband and mother, and raising a teenager on my own. That voice is still guiding me and has led me to another helpmate and greater involvement with the wonderful congregation of Paris First Christian Church. Full circle!
God’s steadfast love has brought me thus far and will lead me the rest of my life, as long as that is. That voice is strong, but still and quiet. I have to listen for it. I trust it.
Betsy Whitt