My roommate has a cat named Elway, and used to have a dog named Ginger. There is a pet door for the cat and dog that allows them out into the backyard. Ginger was old and had liver cancer, so my roommate put her down last October. Now that there is no dog around, my roommate is concerned that a coyote might attack the cat. We live near enough to wild space that this is a possibility. So we now close the pet door at night. Elway has free access to the outside during the day; but once it gets dark, the door is closed and he has to stay inside.

To say the least, Elway was very unhappy about this change. He would come down to my room and whine, then lead me up to the pet door, clearly explaining that he wanted me to let him outside. Even now, if I’m up, he’ll come down and whine to be let out at 4 a.m. or so—a couple hours before it gets light out. In his way, he explains the situation and asks me to solve it for him. But I don’t do what he asks, and he lacks the ability to understand that it’s for his safety. I have a much better picture of the situation, one that he can never understand.

Elway’s relationship with me is a good reminder of my relationship with God. I’m going, “God, here’s my problem. Please solve it.” And God tells me, “No.” In reality, I don’t have the big picture. I don’t have the God’s-eye view. Perhaps I’m not even capable of understanding “why” God refuses to act. Or maybe I will understand only after I’ve grown and changed.

This is where I get to practice acceptance. Certainly, Elway would be a much happier cat if he just accepted the situation. I get to remind myself that I fail at managing my own life, and that God has my best interests at heart. It’s about faith and about trust—trust that God is better at running my life than I am. Even if I don’t understand why, my job is to learn to accept His management of my life.