“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
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
