If you know me in real life, you know I love to sing. Often to the annoyance of The Inventor and The Equestrian, you can find me singing almost anywhere, at any time, about almost anything. In fact, I used to play a game with them called “Real or Not Real” whereby I would sing a song and they’d have to determine whether it was real or not real. I probably found it more amusing than they did, but I digress.

Yesterday I had the opportunity to sing with the worship team at church. One of the songs we sang was Refiner by Maverick City Music. (If you haven’t heard it, be sure to check it out here. Take twelve minutes to go listen to it and come back. It’s worth it. I’ll wait…) When I saw it on the set list, I had no idea that this cold weather would be the stand in for the Refiner’s fire in my life. Let me explain.

The mental load of caring for our animals in this cold is heavy. Far heavier than I expected it to be. (Seriously…if you eat food, go thank a farmer.) When I was looking ahead to see what other precautions we needed to take and what further preparations we needed to make, I was constantly feeling like I was on the verge of tears. Will Baconator and Company turn into porkcicles? Will Iggy’s frostbite get worse? Will Moose survive the subzero temps outside? Add to this the logistics of three members of our family needing to be at work on the coldest day of the year, all three of whom are often outside for their work, and it’s no wonder that I was feeling such heaviness.

Once I realized what was happening, I started confessing it. First to my husband, then to the Lord. When a friend asked me before service yesterday morning how I was doing, I was able to say, “Honestly, this cold weather and taking care of my animals is a heavier mental burden than I expected. I wouldn’t say I’m anxious about it, but I am experiencing a heavy mental load.” As I was sharing this with her, I felt the tears springing up again and then added, “It’s an opportunity for me to learn to trust Jesus more.” She agreed and immediately offered to pray with me in that moment. She prayed for peace over my heart, protection over my little farm, and comfort while the storm was raging. During her prayer she used a phrase that almost made me giggle. She asked that God would place “bubbles of heat” around my property to protect my animals. Giggles suppressed, I thought, “Yes! Lord, you are able! You can make a way! You are the WayMaker! Bring on the bubbles of heat!”

We finished praying and soon service was starting. Our first song was Refiner. I was so excited to sing this song. I love making music in worship to the Lord and serving our congregation in this way. During yesterday’s service, I had the opportunity to sing with a brother in Christ with whom I’d never sang. Harmonies for this song during practice had been on point and despite the fact that I’d missed my entrance both times, I was confident that I was going to get it right for the actual service. My heart is always to be competent leader in worship, not a distraction. Sure enough, I nailed it. Only my microphone wasn’t working.

So there I was, singing my heart out and no one could really hear me. Listen, this should go without saying, but I’m going to say it anyway: worship isn’t about me. It’s about the Lord. I wasn’t singing for anyone but Him. In that moment I was singing “I wanna be tried by fire, purified; Take whatever you desire; Lord, here’s my life.” Apparently, He found it necessary to take my microphone for a bit, and I believe he used that moment so I could sing about being refined by his fire with my heart and mind fully engaged on Him alone and not whether or not I was sounding just right. I also found it a bit ironic that we were singing about fire when it was 2 degrees outside (as I type this, it’s -6 degrees, and that’s BEFORE the windchill). And then it hit me: the “fire” by which I’m being refined right now is this polar vortex.

As I shared with my friend yesterday morning before church and confessed to my husband over the weekend, this mental load could easily (EASILY) manifest as worry and anxiety. I love the life and work that the Lord has for me in this season. I have grown in the discipline of seeking Him first in all my daily comings and goings. Sometimes, however, and more often than I’d care to admit, I am easily distracted from the truth of matter – none of this exists without Him. It’s easy…so very easy…for me to settle into a routine where I behave in a way that says, “I got this! Look at what I can accomplish! I’ve done this by my own power!” This can be in me drilling a piece of music to be able to get it just right or in finding the perfect morning chores rhythm. The truth is: Apart from him I can do nothing. He is my sustainer and provider, my strength and my help.

I saw this on a micro level when I was singing and my microphone wasn’t working and on a macro level when it comes to surviving winter on my homestead. I can make all the preparations in the world. I could knit pajamas for my pigs and sweaters for my chickens (actually, I couldn’t, as I don’t know how to knit, but I think you get my point). I could make the deepest beds of straw for my animals and get the coziest shelters. I could ensure their water stays in a liquid state and their food bins are always full. I could do all that and more, but the rest is in the hands of Jesus. He knows the finances, time, and emotions we have invested in our farm. He knows the dangers of this weather. He knows the mental burden I carry in trying to manage it all, and his invitation is to bring it all to him.

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

Matthew 11:28-30

~Louise