One of my favorite parts of summer mornings is sitting out on our back patio with my coffee before my kids get up, enjoying the bird songs and the smell of the flowers as they bloom. This particular morning, however, was a bit different because they had decided to repave the street that runs behind our house past the neighbors’ houses. The only thing I could hear or enjoy this morning was big rumbling trucks and beeping pavers, while the smell of asphalt permeated the air. I was less than impressed. I am grateful for the road refreshing, but couldn’t hear any birds or smell the flowers that I usually so enjoy.

As I sat there, I suddenly realized that the birds were still there, and still singing, but it was hard to make out their songs because of all the mechanical noise. I originally thought they were all gone—headed to somewhere more peaceful and less noisy. I could just barely make out a few songs, though, and was surprised to hear them. And I thought about how often distraction and confusion are the greatest tools of the enemy (along with shame of course) as they make us believe that maybe God has left.

When there are big, smelly, loud problems in our lives, it’s very easy to focus on them and feel as if hope and joy have gone. Anything from financial stress to health problems to relationship issues can be the things that demand our attention in the worst possible way—being louder in our heads and more all-consuming than anything else. I’m not for a minute arguing that they aren’t big, smelly and loud. That’s why they are so distracting. But I do want to fight for focus as I listen for the bird songs and get up close to the flowers so I don’t forget how they smell.

The truth of God’s presence is still there, but sometimes it’s really hard to see or hear Him. Sometimes it feels like we are surrounded by yucky things and are staring down the path of scary, awful futures. It’s in those times that I most need to refocus and ask for the ability to see and hear Jesus standing with me. He never leaves, but I can convince myself that He does. He never checks out, but I can feel as though He probably should. He never gives up on us, but I can give you all the reasons He really ought to.