Why'd You Have to Put the Peas in It?

     I still remember the look on Sarah’s pudgy, four-year-old face as she scrunched up her nose and asked in a tiny voice, “Why’d you have to put the peas in it?” It was my first attempt at shepherd’s pie and the dawn of new revelation – that she knew what she wanted, how she wanted it and she'd found the voice to communicate her desires.  
     Since then, I use that phrase when life throws something my way with an unexpected twist. I find myself asking God this question when I’ve plotted and planned only to discover that the outcome includes elements that weren’t part of the equation. I’d love to take credit for being the first to ever find fault with God’s plans, but Adam and Eve trumped me on that one. In the garden, their message to him in eating the apple was the same one Sarah echoed and the attitude that often spills from my heart. “Why did you have to make it this way?” “Why’d you have to put the peas in it, God?”  They had their own idea of what garden life should look like, complete with no restrictions.
     As I’ve shared in earlier posts, we’ve been traversing deep waters lately, and it just so happens that I’ve been simultaneously struggling with God about the “peas” on my plate. Packing up and moving across the world was a step I agreed to, but I had definite agenda for how the scenes should play out , presuming all along that God was in agreement. As Beth Moore says, I thought God and I shook on the deal, but there was only one hand wagging – and that was mine. The plan was one of ease and success – something I considered a given since I’d made so many sacrifices in coming here.
     When the trials started piling up I sat before God with a scrunched up nose complaining about how he’d worked out my situation. “If you’d just not allowed this….and if that would just would go away…..and if I had a little more of this…..I could be happy and be a better witness.” But the more I complained, the more miserable I became. I’ve been a Christian long enough to know that giving thanks is essential to a joy-filled life and that unless I surrender to God’s will and embrace his plans I’ll become bitter and angry.
     I’d like to downplay the struggle, saying that I just relinquished these dreams and prayed the   Lord ’s Prayer without reserve. But I didn't. Instead, I’ve laid on the floor weeping and sat up in bed in the middle of the night with my head in my hands trying to figure out if there’s any other way besides surrender. I’ve come at the situation from every angle, argued with God using every tactic I can contrive, but still he brings me back to the issue of acceptance. Will I take the plate he’s given me, complete with peas and some other items I find distasteful? Or will I stay in a state of anger toward him, refusing to believe he’s got my best in mind?
     This week everything came to a head as I’ve worn myself out wrestling with God. I’m still not happy about what he's asking me to give up – possibly another two years apart from our daughters. I still wish it could be another way. But, I’ve finally held out my hands and offered up an initial prayer of relinquishment which, for me, went something like this: “Lord, I’m really struggling to accept that this can be your will for me, but I surrender to your wisdom and your sovereign control. Even though I don’t understand it, I’m going to trust you and thank you and follow you because you’re good.”

     It may sound trite or even contrived, but surrendering this situation has been one of the most painful journeys of my Christian life. It’s reminded me again that God never promised me I’d have an easy or comfortable life. He didn't guarantee that he’d give me what I wanted or that he'd stop me from facing those things I dreaded most. His purpose was, and still is, that I am transformed into his image. And this change, unfortunately, can’t happen unless I walk through tumultuous waters and raging fires. No matter how much I try to water it down, the message remains the same – it’s one of hope and a future but also a life of sacrifice and surrender. It’s not for me to pick and choose what’s put on my plate but to trust the one I’ve entrusted my future to – that he means it for my good and his glory.

“For I know the plans I have for you, Nancy, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jer. 29:11

Hope Fulfilled

     With nearly three months of winter vacation on our obscure island, I decided to tackle some Russian literature that I'd never before had the time or courage to read. I halfway expected it to be a disappointment and gave myself freedom to quit at any point that I found it dull. Instead, I discovered something magical and overall magnificent in these works. While I knew nothing of Russian culture at the start, and not much about its history, I had an instant connection with the characters that transcended time and culture affirming the truth that people, no matter what their race or language, are inherently similar. Not only that, but I was reminded anew that everyone’s chief struggle springs from alienation from God and spills out into broken relationships, finances, health and ultimately broken dreams.
     Reading Brothers Karamazov was a raw experience for me as I peered into the deep recesses of Dostoevsky’s characters, almost with a sense of shame at seeing the baseness of their inner turmoil as they struggled with good and evil. More than anything, I saw myself in many of his characters and could relate on a personal level with them as they anguished over past sins, temptation to repeat them and a longing for life to be different than it actually was.
     While at times I became weighed down by the darkness, he managed to weave hope into the story so that no matter how despairing the circumstances, redemption shone over the horizon --- calling both the characters and me to persevere. In reading the final words I experienced a joy that I’d never had before from reading literature. It was a kind of cleansing that left me refreshed and renewed. Journeying with these real and very broken people though their emotional and psychological wrestling enabled me to pull out my own hidden struggles without the sense of shame I’d had in the past. Bringing them afresh before God and realizing that, unlike many of them, mine had been forever forgiven and washed away made me feel fully alive.
     More than anything, Dostoevsky reminded me that we serve a God of hope. Yes, we’re fallen and desire to do so much that’s contrary to God’s will that we’re often in a state of discontent. To complicate matters, everyone around us has the same bent toward evil, apart from God’s Spirit, so that their sin affects us in ways we often don’t deserve. Simultaneously, creation itself is growing old and wearing out, disappointing us with its inability to deliver a wellspring of youth and beauty, health and healing. But still hope remains – hope that Christ has secured our redemption and our future with him, hope that God is at work in our lives at this moment molding and shaping us into his image, hope that he is guiding and guarding us through the storms and conflicts, hope that we will not live in a broken world forever, but that there will come a day, very soon, when we will be eternally reconciled with him in body and spirit, where we’ll cease struggling with anger, bitterness, hatred, discord, disappointment, envy or anything else. We will dwell in perfect peace, perfect righteousness, and perfect unity with both God and his people. These days on earth will be but a distant memory as we stand in awe of all that God accomplished in and through us on this journey. Every tear will be gone; there will be no regrets -- only joy and rejoicing. Our story, replete with inner struggles as well as hope, much like Dostoevsky’s characters, will end in complete, unimaginable victory with the closing line -- Hope has been fulfilled.