I was too used to looking for serpents.

It all started a year ago. At that time, my housemates and I were looking for a new house to rent. We had found a tidy ranch-style that looked just right. But then I headed to Rwanda for two weeks and left the paperwork to my roommates. When I returned, I discovered that a number of reasonable factors had kept them from signing the lease. I understood, but I was still disappointed.

And then February happened. A thunderstorm and the sound of smashing glass one dark night let me know that not all was well on Ellenwood Drive.

I dashed to the basement. The torrential downpour had turned the backyard into a flood zone, and a poorly constructed well window didn’t muster enough strength to keep the waters from rushing into the basement. Within minutes, muddy water had risen two feet from the floor. Boxes of Christmas decorations levitated. Brand new suitcases toppled over. I waded through the murky mess trying to salvage what I could, before my housemate yelled at me to evacuate before I got electrocuted.

When the grimy waters subsided and we surveyed the wreckage, there was no question in anybody’s mind that we wanted out of that place, and fast.

But as we talked about new possibilities, something nagged at me telling me that I would never get out of that flood zone, that somehow it was God’s best, that it would be good for me. And I hated it.

By July we had discovered a beautiful little house, closer to our church community and replete with wood floors and plenty of charm. It was a perfect little catch, but it seemed too good to be true. I feared that it was.

We signed on the dotted line, and then, like last year, I went on vacation. I was afraid to return, worried that some disaster had befallen us and we would be banished back to the flood zone.

My fears were unfounded. I returned to a “move in” date set for the upcoming Saturday and the promise that a few friends would help us out. But we still needed more help. So, we decided to take a chance on faith and see what would happen. We prayed and then we asked for help.

On Saturday, I came home from the grocery store to find a friend disassembling my bed. Within minutes another friend was helping me take down my curtains. Within the hour, my house was swarming with friends moving furniture, cleaning out the oven, making extra runs to the grocery store for more boxes. I didn’t touch a single piece of furniture that entire day.

That night, as I sat drinking a beer in the backyard with friends, I realized that I had been too busy looking for serpents that I had forgotten my Father’s heart.

 “Or what man is there among you who, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will he give him a serpent? If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask Him!” (Matthew 7: 9-11)