This was written by someone
who wants to remain anonymous. It's an amazing story of God's grace and
redemption!
There is no better illustration
of what God has been teaching me this past year than to tell about something I
recently experienced. It’s so easy for me to think that I’m doing all right
with my life and my faith. I go to a public school where most of the kids spend
their weekends in a blur of alcohol. In seeing the mess of their lives, it’s
easy to stop every once in a while and look in the mirror and tell myself that
I am not doing ALL that bad. Actually it’s the simplest thing in the world to
feel like I’m a good person if I compare myself to them. But that is not how
God sees it or me and most definitely not reality.
Recently, I was
going to a friend’s dorm when I walked past a group of about twenty kids
sitting around tables in the woods. Something about the situation made me
interested, so I stopped just to listen. And there on a freezing winter night
these kids, who LOOKED just like me, were sitting around tables and cursing and
screaming at God. It started with drunken songs making fun of Jesus being
tossed around and soon it became a yelling match of insults at the God they
weren’t sure was listening.
I could hear the anger in their
voices and see it in their faces –anger that was rooted so deeply because every
single one of them believed that this “god” had failed them in some way or
another. And here they gathered together to yell insults and in some way avenge
their wrongs. I could barely watch, because the first thought that hit me was
that this is what the crucifixion must have felt like – all those thousands of
people standing around and yelling “crucify, crucify” at a man who at that very
moment was giving his life for them.
The irony stung me, because
this God who we curse and spit on knew the hatred in our hearts and still chose
to save us. And for a moment I felt like I was there and something just clicked
because I was a part of that group of people with their alcohol and slurred
insults. I saw myself in the crowd of mockers, and we were all standing around
the bottom of the cross spitting at the one who came to heal us.
I was literally at a loss for
words, because it had been SO long since I had seen myself as a sinner who was
literally so broken and hard that it could only take an act of God’s grace to
heal me – yet this is who I am. This whole experience almost broke me, and yet
at the same time it made me so incredibly whole.
It reminded me that in the
absolute depth of my depravity the God of all the universe saw me do this, he
sees me do this again and again, and he chooses to forgive, to love, to wipe
away the hatred and the pain and the hardness of my heart and to pick me up
when I am face down and dirty and unable to go on. And I realized my God is
jealous for every one of those broken people standing out there yelling on that
November night. He is jealous for me, so much so that he died for me while I
still hated him.
In essence, this is the
greatest lesson I have learned this year -- that even though I often find
myself in places that I could chose to see my goodness, God has shown me how
broken and sinful I am, how my sins nailed him to the cross and how they in
themselves were the burden he carried to keep me from death. It’s a terrifying
place to be, but with it I have really come to see, in the tiniest of ways, the
amazing love Christ has for me. It is a love that should revolutionize my life
along with every thought and moment and word of mine. Because how can I live a
normal life when I have received such an incredible gift of unconditional love
and forgiveness?
I’m
so thankful God doesn’t change his mind about us like we so often do about each
other and even him. Once he’s adopted us into his family, we’re his children
forever -- no matter what we do or how we perform. He promises that he’s “loved
us with an everlasting love,” and that he's engraved our name on the palms of
his hands (Jer 31:3, Is 49:16).While he is disappointed and disciplines us when
we don’t walk in the Spirit, he won’t ever give up on us or leave us (Deut 31:6).
Though
God’s unchanging character and unconditional love are comforting, I still
struggle many times to communicate with him. Sometimes it’s because of severe
trials which leave me depleted of energy and joy. At other times it’s boredom as
I allow myself to get into a rut in my quiet time and start praying out of
habit instead of focusing on my relationship with him.
And sometimes I let sin remain in my life, which leaves me feeling convicted and uncomfortable in his presence.
The most
challenging part of feeling disconnected from God is dealing with it as
soon as possible so I don’t miss out on the blessings of his love and the fruit
of the Spirit in my life. I’ve recently been having an extremely hard time praying,
so much so that I’ve been giving up after about fifteen minutes, not managing
to say more than a few words. While it’s taken several weeks to realize
that I’ve started a pattern of avoiding him,
I’m beginning to make out glimpses from the past that are strikingly
similar to what I’m experiencing now. In fact, I’m seeing that I’ve been in
this same place many times before. It’s a spiritual desert where dust is flying
and there’s no sign of water. I
know enough from the past that if I’m going to come through this dryness to a period
of refreshing the worst thing I can do is to keep ignoring it. Instead, I
desperately need to refocus on who God is, what he’s done
for me and how he wants to use my life to make a difference in the world.
“I
know that my Redeemer lives” (Job
19:25). Job wrote this in the midst of a
spiritual crisis to remind himself that no matter how far away God seems, he’s living and ruling with power. I
may feel tired and burned out, but I also have confidence that God is alive and
reigning from his position of power in the heavenly places (Ps 47:8). At the
same time, he’s tenderly caring for each of his children, including me (Ps 103:13). He gave
up his Son’s life in exchange for ours, and Christ traded his righteousness for
our sins so that we could stand justified, purified and accepted before God.
“He who knew no sin became sin so that we could become right with God (2 Cor
5:21). As I focus on who he is and what he’s done, my mind is
overwhelmed by the extent of his love, and my heart begins to melt and soften as he draws me back into his presence.
“Apart
from him I can do nothing”
(Jn 15:5). It’s easy to lose a sense of closeness by avoiding him, so that
before long we’re filling his place with anything and everything else. He says
in John 15 that the only way we’ll ever thrive is by staying in a vital,
communing relationship with him. After many years as a Christian, it’s easy to
forget what life was like apart from him. As I look back at chapters from
the past I feel gratitude for all he’s done – lifting me out of the pit and
putting a new song in my heart (Ps 40:2), establishing hope in place of despair
and leading me down paths that have brought purpose to a once self-absorbed,
destructive life. Not only that, but he daily sustains me by his unconditional,
relentless love, grace and mercy. Apart from his salvation and the Spirit’s
work, I know that I can do nothing of any spiritual significance. To venture
into even one day without his transforming power means to choose a dry, tasteless life. It’s a really terrible alternative to the joy and
fruitfulness I can experience by abiding in him (Jn 15:8, Gal 5:22-23).
“With
God all things are possible”
(Mat 19:26). While I can’t do anything of any eternal significance apart from
God’s grace and power, he promises that the possibilities are limitless if I’ll
remain in his love (Jn 15:5). When I’m going through a desert like the one I’m in right
now, I often lose the vision to be a light to others so that they can come to
know the One who rescued me. Life apart from God morphs into a selfish
existence, one that’s all about me and how I can sustain my fleshly comfort. But life in the Spirit propels me to a transformed way of living and
loving so that I desire to take part in God’s greater purpose. He desires to pour out blessings on all his children, to daily enrich us with his Word and Spirit, not only for our own good
but so that we'll move out of our protective comfort zone and into the sphere of
influence he’s given us (no matter how small), freely sharing with others the
message of his redeeming love.
God wants me to remember
these truths each day so that unlike the Israelites I don’t give up, forget hope and lose my footing. They’re
foundational to challenging me to keep pressing into God and praying even when
I don’t feel it. He wants to bring refreshing through streams in the desert, so that I'll learn to live and walk by faith. When I come out on the other side, I’ll have improved strength
and courage along with an ever growing confidence in his goodness and faithfulness.
As I sit down once again and attempt to talk
with him about what’s going on in my heart it’s painful. Snapshots of
previous days spent avoiding him crowd my thinking as I vividly picture all
the sins I’ve piled up. But he’s there with even greater influence, reminding
me of what Christ has finished on the cross. Because of his death and resurrection I
can now stand unashamed in his presence – fully loved, fully accepted and
counted blameless, not because of anything I’ve done but because of his
righteousness, which was a gift of his astounding grace (Eph 2:8-9, Phil 3:9). He looks at me right
now, and instead of seeing my sins, he sees the purity of his own Son. With the reminder of these truths, I’m able to push past condemning thoughts (Rm 8:1) and the pull of indifference
and once again fix my eyes on him. My heart starts to warm, my spirit feels hopeful.
The dullness gradually gives way to expectancy as I once again experience his
refreshing presence.
"I will make rivers flow on barren heights, and springs within the valleys. I will turn the desert into pools of water, the parched ground into springs" (Is 41:18)
In
watching The Sum of All Fears last night I realized that the title as
well as the plot spoke volumes about the Christian life and facing trials.
While God is undoubtedly reigning and ruling the universe, even down to the
tiniest molecule, the enemy has been given some measure of freedom to wreck
havoc on creation and in God’s people’s lives for a season. Jesus conquered him
on the cross, crushing his head and declaring eternal victory over his rule,
yet his final destruction won’t occur until the end of time. So he works to
create situations and to orchestrate problems that will stir up in us the sum
of all our fears so that we’re left powerless, without a passion for God’s
glory and his Kingdom.
As I was watching the movie, I started thinking back on the
times over the past 25 years as a Christian that I faced the most overwhelming
sorrow and fear, when circumstances seemed to say there was no hope and I
should give up. One common theme throughout these experiences was that they
equaled the sum of my fears – those things I dreaded most in life. As I
reflected on them, I saw that in the middle of these earthshaking,
emotion-gripping experiences God beautifully sustained me, provided for all my
needs and never allowed me to be destroyed as I’d imagined.
It's easy to look at past tragedies and say,
“But I was left to suffer intensely.” These memories of rigorous suffering
block us from seeing and appreciating the greater reality that God did provide
relief, healing, restoration and deliverance after a season. The fact that we
had to experience those things we dreaded most can leave us with a rift with
God and an uncertainty that we can trust him to take care of and protect us in
the future. If this happens, we tend to lose our passion to live for his
Kingdom and his will and gravitate instead toward self preseveration and
comfort. We lose our saltiness and begin to look and act like the rest of the
world instead of who we are – children of the most amazing God of the universe.
When I was a young girl I was raped
repeatedly and no one was there to stop it or to protect me. That experience
shaped me for the next ten years, and though I’ve been through a lot of healing
it’s something I’ll never forget. I’ve wondered why that had to happen to me,
why my parents divorced when I was small and my father wasn’t interested in
getting to know me, why I struggled with certain things that others didn’t have
to endure. Then I wondered for many years why God waited so long to bring me
the husband I so wanted, why he allowed us to go through severe testing in the
ministry, why he let me suffer from chronic fatigue for up to five years. I
wondered why our daughters had certain struggles, why we had to move to Korea
when I never wanted to leave the country, why others would ever do and say
things to me that were so hurtful. And the list goes on.
I’ve faced my greatest fears on more than one occasion. But
the sum them does not equal defeat. They only represent the middle of the
story, rather than the end. When reading any good novel, I rarely give up at a
point of great tragedy, since it’s obvious that the author has a plan to reveal
more details and likely to bring about change. In fact, I’m usually so sure of
a better ending that I skip to the last few pages for reassurance that
everything is going to somehow be sorted out and redemption will follow
distress and loss.
As Christians, we know that God promises to sort everything
out in the end, that when we enter his presence all sorrow and pain will be
removed. But even in this life we’re promised that God will restore us from
trials, that he’ll be there with great power to lift us up out of the pits of
life and bring deliverance, renewed strength, and a deeper understanding of his
unfathomable love. For a season we may face our greatest fears, but he
guarantees they won’t consume us. Joy will come in the morning. In 1 Peter
5:10, we’re given this promise: “And after you have suffered a little while,
the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will
himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.” In reflecting on my
past tragedies I can see the “already” of him working them out for good. He’s
never abandoned me, never left me in a pit. He’s always, at the right time,
lifted me up and brought about life-transforming restoration. Though the
painful memories are sometimes more present than I’d like, he even uses these
to give me compassion for others who are suffering through similar trials (2
Cor 1:3-11). He takes every ingredient in the enemy’s attempt to bring
destruction and makes a redemptive masterpiece in its place.
In
light of this reality it makes no sense to dwell on the trauma experienced in
the middle of suffering, but rather to focus on the ensuing chapters when God
begins putting the pieces back together in a healing and restorative way. I,
like you, may have to walk through the valley of the shadow of death, but we
don’t have to allow the enemy or our emotions to distract and terrify us with
the sum of all our fears. Instead, we can be certain that as Christians our
trials never have a tragic ending.
God reaches down, every time, and redeems what looks impossibly broken, no
matter how terrible it appears. He gives us beauty for our ashes, and makes
everything lovely in his time (Is 61:3, Ecc 3:11). With this certainty, we have
all that we need to face today and the rest of our lives with courage and
confidence. While we can’t predict what will happen, we know that God has
promised that he’ll not only get us through it, but that we’ll come through
with great victory (1 Jn 5:4).
