Blessings and Trials Intermingled

It’s not that popular as Christians to talk about suffering, but even more unlikely to connect trials with blessings.  We tend to polarize the topics – a lot like we do life and death, marriage and divorce, sickness and health. But Jesus did the exact opposite. He told the disciples their new life in Christ included an intermingling of blessings and trials. When Peter wanted to know about the good things they would receive for leaving everything to follow Him, Jesus said they would get “a hundred times as much now in the present age, houses and brothers and sisters and mothers and children and farms, along with persecutions” (Matt 10:30).

He wanted to be certain they knew God’s intention to bless them, but He didn’t want them deceived into thinking life as followers of Christ was without trials and suffering.  James said we shouldn’t just expect them, but rejoice whenever we face troubles of many kinds. Because it’s the testing of our faith, not the blessing of houses and farms and other means of prosperity, that produces in us perseverance so that we’re mature and complete lacking in nothing (Jas 1:2-4).

I’ve found this principle to be true, not just in my own life but in countless others, including people of faith in the Bible. Each life reveals God’s sovereign plan of interconnected blessings and trials that He somehow uses for His glory and the good of those He loves.  

There’s Abraham and Isaac

God sought out Abraham and promised his offspring would be uncountable, more numerous than the stars. Though Abraham and Sarah were too old to have a child they believed God and took Him at His word.  Even though they were promised a gift beyond comprehension, it carried with it the trial of waiting thirty years as they moved from place to place, following God’s leading. Once Isaac was born, Abraham may have thought his season of struggle was over. But God in His wisdom allowed Abraham to go through a painful surrender of his only son. While God wanted him to enjoy the blessing, he wanted even more to test Abraham’s heart and protect him from idolatry.  

Then there’s Jacob wrestling for a blessing

As he fought all night with the angel of the Lord, Jacob wouldn’t let go until God blessed him. Interestingly, he got the gift he so longed for – along with a “touch” on his hip socket. Jacob left that place with the blessing of a new name signifying his overcoming spirit, but he also had a new limp to remind him that he’d wrestled with the Lord.  He knew Jacob needed both – the promise of His favor after all he’d suffered, and a symbolic reminder that God’s power was infinitely greater than his own.

The Israelites asking for deliverance

As the Israelites were crying out to God to rescue them from exile, He assured them of plans to “prosper them and not to harm them – to give them hope and a future” (Jer 29:11).  But, in the context of that promise, He also gave them the hard news that they would go through seventy more years of exile before they came to a place of humble submission, seeking Him with all their hearts. He knew what they needed to receive the promised blessing, and it included the trial of suffering for many more years.

Jonah, David and Jeremiah

One of my favorite prophets, Jonah, was blessed with taking the Good News to the Ninevites, but only at the cost of giving up his own desires, demands and prejudices.

David received God’s promise that the throne would remain with his descendants forever. Yet, shortly after being anointed by the Spirit, he was thrown into an intense trial of being hunted down by King Saul. His blessing of ruling as king included many chapters of suffering, including hiding in caves where he was pleading for God to protect him. 

Jeremiah, appointed by God as a “prophet to the nations”, was reminded he’d been chosen for the job before he was born. God gave him an extraordinary task of tearing down and destroying as well as building and planting nations. But, this blessing didn’t come without a cost. God reminded him at the start “they will fight against you but will not overcome you, for I am with you and will rescue you.” Jeremiah, known as the weeping prophet, was threatened with treason, thrown into a pit and left to die. He was given a great calling but daily faced threats on his life.

And many others

Hebrews gives a brief list of them in chapter eleven saying, “These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised.”  Some were “tortured, put in prison, stoned, sawed in two, killed by the sword, “destitute, persecuted and mistreated…They wandered in deserts and mountains, and in caves and holes in the ground.”  These men and women of faith, great leaders in His earthly kingdom, were blessed with God’s presence, given the Spirit’s power and wisdom. They each had the sense of knowing that they were called by God for specific tasks as Kingdom builders, but they had to suffer intensely as part of the blessing.

The mysterious interconnection of blessings and trials

It’s almost impossible to experience blessings without trials, at least in all the lives I’ve seen in the Bible and those I’ve been close to. Yet even with the overwhelming evidence that points to this reality, we tend to form a dichotomy that almost polarizes the two, keeping us from accepting them as part of the same package. In fact, we ask for blessings all the time without even thinking that suffering is going to be an important part in receiving and being able to enjoy them.

I’m coming to a place where I’m ready to accept the truth, as painful as it is. By embracing them both, I can enjoy what I consider the “good stuff” without becoming addicted to it. At the same time, I can be certain that trials will be part of the package. For reasons beyond my comprehension God allows them to be interconnected. He’s the giver of every good and perfect gift – both the blessings and the trials. And often the greater blessing comes out of the trial.

Casting Our Cares

Standing on a patchwork of slate colored stones, I looked out over the serene ocean with a renewed sense of awe. We’d just finished walking down twisting, jagged stairs and along an ocean front that appeared to be untouched by Korean hands. As we walked, we found freedom in the quiet beauty to talk unrestrained about God, life, dreams and disappointments. Old issues that we’d brought up so many times before somehow gained renewed vigor as they blended almost seamlessly with new ideas and passions fresh on our hearts. 

Something else amazing happened as we breathed in gusts of cool, salty air and watched the sun gently slip behind the mountains. I glanced down at the massive array of stones that I’d seen so many times before and had an idea. “Want to do something fun?” I asked Mark before handing him a large, smooth stone that was sitting right beside my foot. I chose another one for myself – big enough to signify something weighty, but not too heavy to hold. Grasping mine, I shared with him what I wanted to do which was just a visual demonstration of 1 Peter 5:7.  With that we began something that initially felt a little awkward but ended up making a deep impression on us both. We started taking turns sharing our burdens and dreams, praying God’s promises over them and then hurling the stones into the ocean.

As we stood on the shore throwing the oversized stones as far out as we possibly could, I realized that the command in 1 Peter implies a similar exertion. Casting isn’t meant to be effortless or easy, but an aggressive, intentional act of releasing a burden. It’s not natural for me, but instead something I often neglect out of fear or uncertainty that God will take care of the burdens I'm releasing.

The whole experience of letting go of our cares as we prayed together also created a striking picture in my mind of what a living faith looks like. It’s active, determined, refusing to stand under the weight of burdens we weren’t created to carry. It’s a faith that says to God, “I believe you want to carry my load, and so I’m giving it to you now!”

One of my favorite stories in the Bible is when the Israelites set up stones of remembrance so that they wouldn’t forget the great works God had accomplished in their lives. Casting stones has become a way for Mark and me to make a mental memorial, creating  a lasting impression on our minds of surrendering our burdens to God. When these same fears and worries try to come back, we can recall standing together with unburdened hearts, enjoying the freedom of a lightened load and resting in the assurance od God's great care.  

"Casting the whole of your care on Him, for He cares for you affectionately and cares about you watchfully.” 1 Pet 5:7

A Fork in the Road

I never realized I had a problem with fearing people or people pleasing until I started teaching college students in Korea. Before, I’d mostly interacted with family and friends since I stayed at home for many years. Now I'm going into 12 classrooms a week and facing up to 100 students with different needs and personalities – all from a culture completely different from mine.  I started out doing everything I could to build a bridge so we could connect, which in many ways was good, but in others became fuel for people pleasing.

Over the past four years as I’ve taught about a thousand students I’ve learned that to be effective for Christ and make an impact in their lives, I’ve got to reject people pleasing and decide each day instead to respect and stand in awe of Him. I also know that it’s impossible to fear both God and man, just like it’s impossible to love God and money. Yet, it’s easy to fall into the sin of loving human praise more than praise from God (Jn 12:43).  The outcome, unfortunately, is a trap (Prov 29:25) and results in forfeiting the joyful presence of the Lord, along with eternal rewards.

Throughout the winter I’ve been calling out to God for wisdom to overcome this sin, because quite honestly it has stolen my peace and left me feeling afraid.  Though I’d gained a lot of insight from reading Fighting Fear with Fear by Wayne Mack and meditating on God’s promises, I still sensed when the semester started that I needed a breakthrough. Thankfully, I recently had a long weekend to pray and read and even go on a hike alone.

Walking up the mountain behind our apartment, I decided instead of going on the curvy trails which always get me lost I’d just walk straight up until I couldn’t walk anymore. I knew it would get my heart rate up, which I desperately needed, and free my mind not to worry about losing my way.

About three fourths of the way up the trail I came to a fork, with one path curving a little then continuing straight up the mountain and the other flattening out and, I’m guessing, eventually heading back down.  That’s when the thought hit me: I was at a fork just like this in my classrooms, and God was giving me a choice over which path to take.  I stood looking at the totally different paths and the implications of taking them. If I chose the hard way I would reach a higher more beautiful point, be physically challenged and have the opportunity for a greater sense of accomplishment. If I went on the other path, I could relax and have a peaceful, predictable walk right back to where I started.

In life I had a similar choice to make. I could either keep proclaiming Christ despite some opposition and hardship for the sake of God’s glory and experience a deeper relationship with Him, new opportunities and a chance to share in the fellowship of His sufferings.  Or I could take the easy way – to stay a people pleaser and strive to maintain peace at the expense of God’s name.

While I was thinking about it, I turned around and looked back down the steep mountain path that I’d spent the last twenty minutes climbing and realized that I’d spent the past four years getting to the place I was now. If I decided to retreat out of fear of man I’d lose all that I’d fought for – all the times I’d kept moving forward even when it was hard and I thought I couldn’t make it. God had given me grace to get this far, and He was going to keep giving me grace if I’d walk with Him in trust. The only thing I had to lose was the fear of man, which was tormenting me anyway!

I knew this hike wasn’t just another walk and that God had brought me here so I could make a decision: Was I going to be for Him, to gather with Him, to stand in His corner or not?  I took the rock I was carrying and carved a cross in the dirt at the fork. “I choose you, Lord, even if people reject me and I suffer."

As I turned to walk back down the mountain I knew God answered my prayers for wisdom and insight about how to overcome this fear. The only way to break free from it is by moving forward with Him, one day at a time, one step at a time, refusing to hide Christ, refusing to let anyone intimidate me into being silent about who He is and what He’s done for me.

Tomorrow and the weeks ahead will be the real test as I go back into the classroom where I’ll face a lot of people. I know that because of the Gospel some will love me and others will not -- even though I'm committed to sharing Christ with tenderness, humility and compassion. Regardless of how they respond, I believe the Holy Spirit has given me a renewed determination to go in with a passion for His glory that exceeds my desire to be praised.

I want to be able to say at the end of each day, “I did not hide your righteousness in my heart; I spoke about your faithfulness and salvation; I did not conceal your constant love and truth from the great assembly.” (Ps 40:10).

“Stand at the crossroads and look;
    ask for the ancient paths,
ask where the good way is, and walk in it,
    and you will find rest for your souls." Jer 6:16

Healer of the Brokenhearted

As a child, I remember hearing about someone dying from a broken heart. I never actually believed it was true but thought it was the Southern way of covering up some tragedy or disease that was inappropriate to talk about. In my mind, the phrase kept their story sacred so that no one could go prying around trying to figure out what really happened.

When I got older I fell in love with British literature, where it seemed no story was complete without the tragedy of a broken heart. By instinct, I rushed past these pages, still convincing myself that nothing that radical could actually happen.

Or could it?

After saying goodbye twenty times to the girls over the past four years as they made their way back to school in the Philippines and then to America, I’ve learned that broken heartedness isn’t a cover up or imaginary, but a real life condition. In fact, the Hebrew word Shabar means brokenhearted, crushed or shattered.

It started with a crack

Each time I watched the glass doors slide shut as the girls passed through security a tiny crack formed in my heart until somehow, over the years, the fragile lines began intersecting and expanding.

It was somewhere around the eighteenth flight at the beginning of last summer that I felt something shifting in my heart as it began to fissure and shatter. At that point I remembered all the stories I’d read and the times I’d heard about what I thought was a made up condition, and knew from instinct that I was experiencing what Jesus and many others called a broken heart.

My heart has undergone a painful transformation since then. It hurts, but not in a heart attack kind of way, just  a constant aching and longing to be near the girls --  the ones I played with for hours on the floor, prayed over constantly and organized my days around. I was motivated to do much of the mundane for their two beautiful smiles and twinkling eyes, propelled into many unknowns for the sake of making their future a little more bright and beautiful. Their lives were so joined with mine that even thinking about a time when we wouldn’t be together was hard for me.

Though I hung on to hope for a while out of courage that our separation would soon end and we’d all be back together again, reality began to set in as Caroline left for Chapel Hill two summers ago and Sarah started her senior year, which was her fourth at boarding school.

I began waking up in the morning to an immediate realization that something inside was all splintered and messed up. At night I slipped into a rhythm of wondering how I could move on from the pain of living so far away from the ones I promised to take care of until they were grown.

Looking up from the wreckage

When Sarah boarded her flight this Christmas to go back to school, I robotically made my way to the car with Mark, where we began a silent trudge back to what we declared as “nine more weeks without her.” As I was crying and grieving over what felt like an unbearable goodbye, the Lord reminded me that He’s not only my brother and savior and friend, but my doctor, my healer, who promises to “bind up the wounds of the brokenhearted” (Is 61:1). He’s been whispering to me through His Word that He’s perfect at restoring broken hearts, and takes delight in healing the most cracked and shattered lives.

As I’m embracing His promises to heal, I’m going back to the places where I’ve seen Him with others whose hearts were cracked wide open. I see him embracing Martha and Mary with hope as they were despairing about their brother’s death, standing beside a well in the sweltering heat to comfort a woman who’d all but given up on life, turning around in a crowd just to find the woman who’d touched his robe so he could heal her bleeding along with her broken heart and spirit. I see Him looking down from the cross on his own mom’s breaking heart and waiting for Peter on the shore after his resurrection, even cooking a meal, so he could comfort him from shame and brokenness.

As I look at these stories together, I’m amazed at how I spend most my life trying to avoid the people he intentionally intermingled with – the ones he hunted down at noon or searched out in obscure places. Jesus had eyes to see the broken hearted, ears to hear their language and a heart that pounded with mercy not only to hear them but to heal them.

So, why would it be any different for me or you? How is it that I can convince myself in my darkest moments of loss and depression that He doesn’t care, that He’s not with me and that I’ve got to find a way to put the pieces of my heart back together again?

The one who was broken in every way, crushed in Spirit and caused to suffer for wrongs He didn’t commit understands broken hearts better than anyone. Not only that, He promised that He came to heal them.

Logic has taken root somehow through God’s wisdom and revelation as I’ve carefully assessed my situation. Yes, I’m brokenhearted and need healing. And, yes, it’s going to take time. No, I cannot possibly do it by myself, and I know from experience that no counselor on this earth can begin to reach inside my heart and bring the kind of healing I need.

On the other hand, Christ is with me. He wants to bind up my wounds – the most penetrating and excruciating of them. He knows exactly what to do, how to do it and how long it will take. It’s not something He hopes to accomplish but a healing He’s guaranteed.

Trusting Christ for healing

As I kneeled praying and crying the other day, I kept asking God, “What is it that you want me to do? How can I make this pain go away?” I thought through all the things I’ve been doing like getting exercise and sleep, praying, listening to music and sermons and inspiring stories, and how each of these is only putting a band aid on an oozing sore. Then two words came to my mind in the silence as I was waiting for an answer, “Trust me.”

It seems too easy or maybe too hard. Easy in the sense that I can put away all my formulas and tactics to try to fix myself and hard in the sense that I have to trust, to rely on, His willingness and ability to bring wholeness to what seems like a hopelessly broken situation.

“Help me,” I whispered back. For His two words I had only two to say back, but honestly I think  more happened in that simple conversation than had transpired in my long winded monologues with him over the past six months about what’s wrong and how I can’t fix it and how it’s eating me alive.

I know that the road to healing may be time intensive. I’ve missed four years of my daughters’ high school lives, four years of sharing meals together, of arguing over chores and laughing over silly things. We have snapshots of summers and Christmases and fall and spring breaks, but they can never make up for the long seasons we’ve been apart and the distance it’s created in our hearts.

As much as I want I can’t reverse time and do it all again. God had a good plan in calling us to Korea and an even better plan to teach me how to love by letting go and trusting Him with the most precious treasures I’ve ever dreamed of holding in my hands.  As I’m learning to surrender  them and my brokenness to Him, I’m starting to see hope – that He’s going to make my heart whole again, to seal and heal the cracks that seem unfixable and to restore joy to my life.

“If Christ does not heal the broken-hearted, he will not fulfill the mission for which he came from heaven. If the broken-hearted are not cheered by his glorious life and the blessings that flow out of his death, then he will have come to earth for nothing. This is the very errand on which the Lord of glory left the bosom of the Father to be veiled in human clay, that he might heal the broken in heart; and he will do it.

Jesus Christ has gone on healing broken hearts for thousands of years, and he is well up in the business. He understands it by experience, as well as by education. He is "mighty to save." Consider him; consider him; and the Lord grant you grace to come and trust him even now!” Spurgeon