2 Corinthians 1:9-10: ‘Indeed in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us.’
If we ever question anything about our past or our circumstances, we merely need to read this passage. It is the universal answer to the question of ‘why?’. At one time I spent an inordinant amount of time asking pestering the Lord with my questions of ‘why?’. I was rather demanding. Then I grew petulant when all I heard was silence.
Most of my ‘why?’ questions have been about other people. For some strange reason (sin) we hurt each other. Some people hurt more easily and some people are quicker to throw the spear. I find it agonizing when it is a fellow believer. I find it heart wrenching when I realize I just threw the spear. I find it difficult when my heart runs straight to embracing an offense.
What a fine line we walk! People are given the amazing privilege of reflecting God to the world around us and yet we fail everyday. We are to look for ‘fruit’. We are to live at peace and in unity with each other. We put so much pressure on ourselves and each other.
I know this Christian life was meant to be lived out with people, but it is so hard and so distracting. For instance: People are way more visible than God. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t actually seen God, I see his people. Unfortunately, I don’t see them through the veil of the righteousness of Jesus—I see them through my own sin-scaled eyes that are slowing, painfully being made new. Oh, that I would have the eyes to see as clearly as he does. Unfortunately, I don’t. I really don’t. I think I see fruit. I think I see evidence of God working in someone’s life. But when tragedy comes, when betrayal comes, it is difficult to look at their lives and believe that I saw clearly.
‘But God? I ask, it’s people that prove that your plan works. It’s people committing their lives to you. It’s people growing in you. It’s people committing their time to their local church. It’s about the people, right?’
No. It’s about God and him fulfilling his purpose.
When I am hurt by people I can run to this verse in 2 Corinthians and transfer my hope in people to hope in him.
It’s about setting our hope on God. Setting my hope on God. He has said he will deliver us. Do I believe it? Do I look for it? Do I believe that he raises the dead—not just raised the dead, past tense, but raise the dead, present tense? Do I really believe that he is powerful to take any situation and make it into something that brings him glory?
I have to or I would throw in the towel of following where he leads and where he goes. It’s the only answer that makes sense–it’s the only answer that satisfies the perpetual ‘why?’.
It’s about God—setting my hope on him—the author of my faith and the finisher of my faith.
People disappointing me does not have to finish my faith. It only does if my hope is centered on people.
‘The waiting, God, is so hard. Is this dream a dream from you or is it rooted in my selfish ambition?’
I imagine with Abraham what it was like to wait 25 years for the promise of God to be fulfilled. What must it have been like year after year, month after month, day after day to wait and believe?
We are not all Abraham’s. Not all of us have been called to leave our homes, our family, and our city, but we are all called to believe and to trust.
That’s hard. It’s harder than hard. Sometimes it seems impossible. How do I trust when I cannot see? How do I trust when I do not know where I am going? How do I trust when it seems as though God has left me to flounder?
I know it’s been said to ‘look up to Jesus’ and ‘keep your eyes focused on him’ and ‘look above your circumstances and focus on Him, ‘and all those sayings are true, I’ve even said it myself, but sometimes it seems like a trite saying when I just can’t see Him.
The thing I love about Abraham is that he didn’t deny his circumstances. He faced the reality of his circumstances. His circumstances were that he and his wife were unable to bear children because of their age, yet they were given the promise of a son. So Abraham believed and it is credited to him as righteousness. He faced reality, and he believed.
Those aren’t two contradictory statements. In fact, we can learn how to navigate our sticky, painful circumstances if we follow Abraham’s example.
Looking up isn’t always the answer. Sometimes we have to look down. Sometimes we have to accept our reality and look at it for what it is. Struggling with idols? Struggling in your relationships? Struggling with your church? Struggling with past regret? Don’t deny it. See it for what it is.
And then see Jesus in the middle of it. Look for him. Ask him to reveal himself. Ask him to change you and grow you. There is nothing more beautiful than seeing Jesus in the middle of our circumstances.
Will you see him in the beauty of a sunrise and thank him for another day to wake up and walk with him? Will you see him in the delicacy of a tiny wildflower that could be overlooked during a wander through the woods? Will you see him in the smile of your children? Will you see him in the rustle of the autumn leaves as they slowly change their hue from green to yellow gold, fiery red, and burnished bronze? Even in your hurt will you see him?
He calls us to believe and to trust.
Can we believe like Abraham even when the circumstances seem and feel impossible?
We can.
We will.
Faith does not make things easy, but it does make them possible.
This is the key to making it through those days when you get up out of bed and want to crawl back into bed, throw the covers over your head because there is a big, hairy, scary monster out there called ‘To-Do’ that just might chew you up and spit you out.
Oy. I love where God has placed me. It’s hard though. and this year is a stretch. I’ve got kids stretched out all over the emotional need spectrum. I have two teenage daughters–one half way through those teen years and the other just beginning. Then there is my son who seems to be on the cusp of pre-teen, I just wish someone would have told me my son would lose his brain at the age of ten…oh wait, someone did… I just didn’t believe them. And then there is the baby, who truly is in the middle of childhood. I wish I could go back and tell myself that those years when I had four children under the age of 10 were the easiest years yet. (I don’t think I would have believed myself either).
But God is faithful.
And loving.
And kind.
And strong.
And all-knowing.
And full of wisdom.
This is the deal: when I abide, when I rest in him, when I rely on him for my strength, my joy, and my knowledge, I am truly carried through the turmoil of emotions that I don’t even know how to deal with within myself let alone guide my daughters through. I am given wisdom on how to relate to my son in such a way that lets him know that I value him. I am given times of joy when I take the time to laugh with my 8 year old.
When I abide, I am able to be in the moment with my loved ones. I am able to embrace exactly where I am at while also recognizing the reality that I am stretched to what feels my limits in regards to time management, home organization, and being what my husband and kids need at any given moment.
Abiding. It reminds me of rest.
A virtual rest in a very real, very busy life. A perspective shift. Instead of searching for solutions to the busyness, I choose to abide in the Lord in the midst of the busy life.
Abiding.
If I remain in him, he will remain in me. John 15:4.
There is peace there.
There is rest there.
There is hope there.
Joy.
Wisdom.
Strength.
Love.
So much love.
Love greater than our greatest need or biggest fear.
