Seeming Contradictions

 “You’re the most flexible, inflexible person I know.”

     Straight from the mouth of my husband, who loves me more than anyone else. That's why he gets away with it. He claims that it isn't in any way intended as a jab (hmmm), but merely a statement of truth that in Christ my rigid nature becomes pliable, able to endure and accept that which in my flesh I’d only rail against.

     He says it when the hot water gets cut off for two weeks and I’m whimpering that I might die -- but don't. Or, when I’ve returned from three stores trying to find sour cream and come home empty handed and extremely frustrated but still manage to prepare dinner. Though it annoyed me at first, I’ve come to appreciate his insight and even, on occasion, find myself boasting about it. I’ll never forget the girls’ confused expressions the first time they heard me declare it like it was my badge of honor.

     I have enough self awareness to realize that what he's saying is absolutely true. In fact, my incompetency transcends rigid boundaries. Apart from Christ I’m not only inflexible but completely unable to love, to give, to endure difficulties with joy and thanksgiving. Apart from him I can do nothing (John 15:5).  And without his grace I wouldn't survive in Korea, living away from our daughters, our home, friends and everything else that’s familiar.
     I remember reading missionary biographies with an intense longing -- not that I'd follow in their adventures but that God would leave me completely out of them. I prayed repeatedly that God wouldn't send me to Africa, or Asia or to any other continent. "Please," I begged. "Just let me stay in the South where I belong." My husband, who had missions on his heart since he was a child, had us first slated  to go to Africa, then Kazakhstan and finally New Zealand. When none of these adventures panned out, we succumbed to an ordinary life in the mountains of North Carolina where, thankfully, nothing too dangerous occurred.  Life went on with great monotony, the kind that sends some people reeling but leaves me longing for more. I was content to stay put for the rest of my life.
     That's when Korea burst onto the scene. Before the dust could settle, we were packing our bags, closing down the house and moving to a country we'd never even visited before. Mark was ecstatic; I was mortified. The girls hoping until the last second that it was only a dream.
     Something became clear to me when I first started reading the Bible in my 20's. In Genesis I saw Abraham, Moses, Joseph and a host of others receive callings that shook up their lives and had them accomplishing tasks they never before imagined. The pattern continued all the way to Revelation where the author spent his last days in exile on a deserted island.  I never considered myself as monumental as these key leaders, but I was certain from what I'd learned about God's character that his plans for me contained surprises that I'd never before dreamed.  
     Though we don't know all the reasons, God often calls his people to the impossible so that he can reveal his power through us (2 Cor 12:9). He takes inflexible human beings, bent on having things our own way, and sets us on a different path that requires a constant yielding of our will to his. The impossibility of the task is designed to draw us to himself so that we find life in him -- not in our own strength and understanding (Prov 3:5-6, 2 Cor 1:9-10).
     Paul has been my hero in this regard as I've watched him bound from one adventure to the next, some not so wonderful. His refrain, through the good times and bad, was that God is in control, he's good, he's faithful and he's got a purpose for every life event. He praised God in prison, praised him in the synagogues, and praised him in house arrest. He struggled with anxiety at times, had sleepless nights, went hungry on many occasions and was in fear of death. Hunted. Despised. At times honored and loved. But regardless of his circumstances he fixed his gaze upon God's goodness and gave thanks. It wasn't a feeling but a concrete-solid resolve to trust the one he'd surrendered his heart to on the road to Damascus. His unwavering certainty in God's kingship enabled him to press on through extreme testings and hardships. Life wasn't always what he wanted, I'm sure. Who wants to endure a shipwreck only to be bitten by a viper? But, because his goal wasn't his right to comfort and personal success, he was able to persevere with joy.
    I'm not going to lie and say that God's leading always feels good, because it doesn't. But I will say that nothing gives me greater joy than seeing God at work in and through me, enabling me to accomplish things that otherwise would be impossible. My victories may be in the grocery store instead of a lion's den, but they're present nonetheless. God's grace is tenaciously abounding, equipping me for every good work that he's called me to, though many times simple and what others would consider mundane. I'm thankful every day for his commitment to working in someone as inflexible as me, and excited that my husband is on the sidelines to witness this miraculous transformation and cheer me on.

And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work." 2 Cor 9:8

Peace Beyond Understanding

     “Peace which passes all understanding.” That’s what Christ promises to give us as we look to him for life and purpose.

     In walking by the ocean today, I took some time to sit awhile and watch the waves with their rhythmic patterns as they crashed against the rocks.  Peace came to mind as I soaked in the beauty of God’s creation. But that’s not what Jesus was talking about – peaceful thoughts stirred by gazing upon something beautiful. In fact, the peace he promises has nothing to do with pleasant circumstances or surroundings.

     Jesus specifically contrasted his peace with the world’s to help us understand that the two are diametrically opposed. The peace offered by the world is evasive, threatening to leave at any moment. It’s conditional, based upon circumstances and good times. It’s imperfect, mingled with fear at the possibility of losing those things which brought peace to begin with. Someone with all that the world has to offer can still be completely without peace. Pride keeps them longing for more while fear strips them of the ability to bask in and enjoy their material comforts.

     I remember as an unbeliever thinking that once I achieved certain goals I’d have peace. Yet when I got what I thought I wanted, peace was nowhere to be found. Like a mirage, it eluded me every time. With each disappointment, my insatiable thirst for peace propelled me into a more obsessive quest for it. Running determinedly in the direction of my dreams, I became blinded to the reality that past conquests were ineffective in achieving what I most longed for – a heart and mind at peace with God.

     I look around me and see that the world’s quest for peace is no different. We search for it in our surroundings and relationships, our health, security and professions. We’re obsessed with staging peaceful lives only to have the winds of adversity and change blow them apart. A perfect vacation promises to give us that repose we so long for. Once we climb that mountain, looking out over the vast countryside, we see beauty that looks peaceful but it fails to provide us with an inner peace that’s healing or lasting. No matter how many trips we make to the beach to gaze upon the sparkling waves and listen to their calm roar, we’ll not find peace “that passes all understanding.” That peace can only be found in Christ.

    We may lose all that the world deems valuable, but God has promised that he’s with us and will supply all of our needs, that our hope isn’t derived from the things of the world, but in belonging to him and fulfilling his purposes on earth. We are his children, adopted into his family and given a guarantee that nothing can ever separate us from his love. His peace is meant to impact us internally, affecting the very essence of our souls so that we’re able to experience calm in the midst of storms.

     On many occasions I’ve forfeited peace while undergoing trials. I’ve panicked and allowed myself to fear the future instead of standing on God’s promises that he’s secured it for me. At the core of this fear and lack of peace is a lack of faith that God is who he says he is and will do all that’s he’s promised in his word. When I go through times like this, it doesn’t in any way disprove Christ’s promise of perfect peace, but rather shows my sinful decision to choose fear over faith.

         As much as we long for it, we’re not perfect and won’t be this side of heaven. We’re living in the time of the already and the not yet, and the tension of this in-between time means that the complete realization and application of all of God’s promises is not yet perfected in our lives. We’ll have seasons, and hopefully ever increasing ones as we grow in grace and knowledge of God, where we experience great peace. But we also have times when we struggle with fear and anxiety. The goal during these times is not to embrace the struggle and so get stuck in it, but to accept it as reality with the prayerful anticipation that God will give us the faith to grow past it in the future.

     We’re not stagnate creatures but people created to change so that we reflect Christ’s image. We do this in an ever increasing manner as we abide in his word, in prayer and walk by faith. He shows us daily his faithfulness and love, penetrating through those dark areas of doubt and fear which cause us to shrink back from walking by faith. The more we abide in him and find him faithful, the greater our faith becomes so that when hard times come that challenge our peace we’re more and more inclined to rest upon the Rock of Christ who has proven himself to be reliable. He himself is our peace.