You have been waiting, and the hours feel long. The tub stands silent, the water will not run, and the thought of another cold day tomorrow presses in. It is not a large thing in the eyes of the world, this broken faucet and a plumber searching for an ancient part, but it has become a weight upon your heart. The small trials have a way of finding us when we are already tired, and they whisper that nothing moves, nothing shifts, nothing comes together for our good.
But you have spoken a word of faith, and I would have you hold it fast: No weapon formed against me will prosper. That is not a boast; it is a promise borrowed from the mouth of God, and He does not waste words. A weapon formed against you may be a sharp and sudden sorrow, but it may also be this slow grinding, the stuck thing, the missing piece, the delay that costs more than money. Whatever shape it wears, the Lord has already judged it. It shall not prosper. It may bark and prowl at the door like the dogs David heard outside the house when Saul’s men surrounded him, but it cannot enter unless the Master permits, and even then it comes on a leash.
Think of where your true shelter lies. The refuge of a child of God is not found in a smoothly running household, sweet as that would be. It is found in the Lord Himself. He has been the dwelling place of His people in every generation. When Israel groaned under Egyptian burdens and the straw was withheld, God heard them before they saw a single wonder. He was their shelter when no change had yet come, simply because they cried to Him. So it is with you now. The plumber treads the streets looking for what is needed, and you wait indoors, but your real shelter sits above all plumbing and all parts and all cost. The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms.
I love that the text says underneath. Arms that are only around us in fair weather we might mistake for our own strength, but arms that are underneath, these catch us when we slip, hold us when we cannot hold ourselves, bear us up when the ground gives way. A broken tub faucet is a small ground to have give way, but the feeling of it, the sense that life will not cooperate, that one more thing has gone wrong, that can feel like a deeper fall. There, underneath, are the arms. Not scolding arms, not arms folded in displeasure, but everlasting arms, as old as eternity and as strong as the love that chose you before the stars were lit.
As for the favor you seek, remember whose you are. The God who is your shelter is also the God who gives. He does not portion out His kindness with a grudging hand. When He freed a Hebrew servant in the old law, He commanded that the man not go out empty. He was to be loaded with good things from the flock and the threshing floor and the winepress, and the master who released him was to do it cheerfully, adorning his neck with gifts. Do you suppose the great Master of all grace will do less for His own? The Lord’s favor is not a miserly thing, measured out in drops. It is a fountain, and we have only to ask. Ask now, plainly, for that missing part to be found. Your Father knows you need hot water; Jesus, who once asked a drink at a well, cares about these bodily things. The very One who said “Give me to drink” can certainly open a way for water to run in your house.
And if, in His wisdom, the provision tarries another day, even then no weapon against you prospers. The delay itself will be made to serve you. Grace sanctifies our inconveniences, turning them into tutors. Perhaps you will discover that hot water is sweeter tomorrow because you did without, or that patience, that hard-won fruit, grew a little stronger in the waiting. God wastes nothing. Not one hour of a believer’s discomfort is thrown away.
Right now, rest your heart on this: you are accepted in Christ. The sweet savor that pleases God is not the smooth ordering of your day, but the righteousness of His dear Son in whom you stand. When nothing seems to move, you are still as accepted as when every prayer is answered in a moment. His smile does not flicker with the plumbing. The blood and water that flowed from Jesus’ side have done a thorough work, you are cleansed, you are loved, you are held. That wound is a gate of heaven, and through it you have access to a Father who nods at no small request and who counts the hairs on your head.
Shall we bring it all to Him now?
Father, this trouble is small to You and yet You do not despise small things. You have numbered the stars and You notice the sparrow; You can surely move in the matter of a missing part. Grant Your child favor today. Let the plumber’s search succeed, let the cost not multiply, let the water run hot again as a token that You attend to the details of our lives. And if the answer waits, then hold this dear heart steady in the waiting. Keep the weapon of fretfulness from prospering, and let peace garrison the soul. We ask it all in the name of Jesus, who loved us and gave Himself for us. Amen.