Both these words possess the same letters, but with a flip of two letters we have a whole new word.
Trials lead us to blaze new trails.
But sometimes trails lead us right into trials.
There have been trails that I have hesitated to follow because I knew they would lead me right into a trial. I could foresee that a particular path would not be easy. Trials weary me. Trials scare me. Trials require much of me. Trials are hindrances.
‘These have come [all kinds of trials] so that your faith–more worth than gold,which perishes even though refined by fire–may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory, and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.’ 1 Peter 1:7
Faith. It is a gift from God. A gift. But it’s not a gift that we put on a shelf and wait for a special day to take it down and use it. Or to ‘re-gift’ it. Or to ‘repurpose’ it. Or even to ‘recycle’ it. No. It is a gift. For you and for me to use. Faith has a purpose and it is valuable and available.
My faith is worth more than gold, and it grows more in value with use. Your faith is worth more than gold and grows more in value as you use it.
Each trial is an opportunity for my faith to be refined and to be made more genuine. Who wouldn’t want that? But who counts the cost? Could I be satisfied with mediocre faith or do I want the real, unmoving, firm kind of faith? Then I must welcome trials. Not that I am going to go create trials, but my perspective on trials should change.
To see it as a loving refining fire. To see it as an opportunity to prove to myself and the world that my faith is genuine. Why? So that Jesus Christ is revealed in my life and receive praise, glory, and honor.
In Genesis we meet a young man by the name of Joseph, who experienced a long, refining trail. His dreams, his integrity, and his faith did not keep him out of the the trials he experienced, but God used them to affect a miracle in the lives of his people.
Sometimes our trials are meant for a bigger story than just us and ours. Sometimes our stories are meant for someone yet to be. Sometimes our stories are for someone we may never meet. Sometimes are stories are meant for God alone to use as he sees best.
May we greet each trial, with faith instead of fear? May we trust the heart of God that the trail that appears dark and frightening is really filled with treasured beauty that will be revealed as we take those steps of faith?
We can say we believe, but do we? When the way grows rough and the storm looms close do we believe as much as we did when the way was smooth and the skies clear? When it feels like you cannot catch your breath because the waves are crashing with increasing ferocity, do you believe with the same amount of fervor as when the water was as smooth as glass?
This question comes up to haunt me in the night. It hounds me when I am trapped in shame. It challenges my desperation. It ramrods my pride.
Yet, belief was the key to the sick woman and the synagogue ruler. It was their belief that fueled their desperation. It was their belief that prompted their seeking Jesus. Belief fueled their reception of their personal miracle.
Belief.
There were those in the synagogue leader’s and the woman’s life that did not believe that healing could come. Think of the woman: she spent all she had searching for health through the hands of mere men and instead of getting better she grew worse. She was probably written off as a lost cause and there was no one left to believe that she would be restored. Think of Jairus: his daughter was still alive when he fell at Jesus’ feet begging for Jesus to come and heal his daughter, yet, when Jesus finally arrived, Jairus’ daughter was dead. There was no hope because there was no life.
There have been and probably always will be those folks in my life who challenge my belief in my Jesus. There will be those that will tell me to stop bothering Jesus with the request that obviously is dead. I have those kind of latent dreams that I wonder if they will ever happen in this world. But the dreams persist and I hear Jesus tell me, just as he told Jairus: ‘Don’t be afraid, just believe.’
In that statement, Jairus had to choose who he was going to believe. Would he believe his friends and family or would he believe Jesus? Can you imagine the single-mindedness of Jairus as he walked those last, long, short steps to his home? Can you imagine the battle within his heart and what his mind was telling him? His heart is telling him to believe and reverberating through his mind is the news that his daughter is dead. Whose voice will be louder? Jesus or the crowd?
This is the challenge that I face. Will I let Jesus’ voice be louder in my mind and heart or will I let the crowd of doubt and logic drown it?
It wasn’t logical that by just one touch of Jesus’ hem would the woman be healed. It wasn’t logical that a child could be raised from the dead. There is no human logic that could explain or support a healing touch.
But what part of Jesus follows our human logic? I have experienced a peace that makes no sense when I look at the circumstances in my life. I have experienced the courage to take the next step to tear down idols that prevent the people I serve from growing in their worship experience. I have experienced freedom from the approval seeking junkie I once was.
These things are unexplainable outside the power of the touch of Jesus in my life.Will you believe? Will you be desperate? Will you seek out the presence of Jesus in your life? If you can, if you will to, you might experience miracles in your life that defy our human logic as well. And that is a very exciting place to be.
I take comfort in knowing that you too have a little mess-up in your life. It makes me not feel alone. And yet that solidarity can be a trap. It can fool us into thinking that we are on the same team that must win at being screwed up. It can trick us into the comparison game: ‘Well, I am not as bad as so and so’, or ‘boy, I really screwed up, look at her, she’s messed up too, but is making good, I don’t think I can have the life change she has’.
What if we accepted ourselves as wholly screwed up while at the same time embraced Christ for what he did for us? Which is the removal of our sin, our shame, and our guilt. What if we took the truth of God’s word and wrapped it around ourselves like a mantle and let the truths settle on our shoulders and actually felt the weight truth?
I think I would be wholly changed.
I think that my messed up soul imprint would begin to take on the imprint of God himself and then I must ask myself if I am really as messed up as I believe or is my mess somehow being made beautiful.
Or I am just seeing myself, without the guilt and shame, as God sees me.
Wholly loved.
Wholly messy beautiful.
Can mess be beautiful? I must believe it or I would be crippled by the weight of regret and bitterness and unforgiveness. Every time I have turned over my regrets to my Abba Father, I come away encouraged that there is redemption. Every time I let go of bitterness I smell the fragrance of the rose rather than feel the prick of the thorns. Each time I choose forgiveness I am reminded of my own forgiveness.
Every time I offer my mess-up soul to him, I receive grace in return and that is wholly beautiful.
Receive grace. Will you offer your messed-up self to him and open your arms to receive his grace? Grace that changes us into a new kind of beautiful we cannot even begin to imagine. Grace that reveals truth. Truth that reveals grace.
