Tag Archives: love

Christmas Letter to My Kids

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Christmas Letter To My Kids

This was a hard, but beautiful Christmas in our family.  Heartache causes us to reflect and to look for beauty that will come out of ashes.  My kids amaze me with their grace and their capacity to love through all of it.  I could not possibly be more thankful for each and every one of them.

The following is a letter I read to them Christmas morning.  I know many people have to look for good through the lens of suffering and this time of year intensifies that.  I hope this will encourage others as well.

Two Strange Passages for Christmas

To My Beloved Children:

I want to read you two passages from the Bible which, at first, might not seem appropriate for Christmas, but I think you’ll understand why I chose them by the time I’m done.

The first is from the book of Genesis – from the story of Joseph.  This is near the end of Joseph’s story – after his brothers had been so wicked and envious of him that they plotted to kill him, sold him into slavery instead, lied to their father and told him Joseph had been eaten by a wild animal, and Joseph had suffered years of slavery, loneliness, unjust imprisonment, and through a myriad of sovereignly appointed events, had risen to enormous power in Egypt.  These years had shaped Joseph and had put him into a position to organize the Egyptians to store up vast amounts of grain during years of plenty because he knew that years of famine were coming.  But Joseph’s family didn’t have such stores.  Their father sent all but one of his sons down to Egypt because they heard there was food there.  The story is a little long, so for brevity, I’ll tell you that it had been many years since Joseph had seen his brothers and when he did, he was both relieved and filled with apprehension.  He remembered all they had done to him.  When he saw them after all those years, he recognized them, but they didn’t recognize him.  He decided to test his brothers to see if they had changed.  If you read the whole story, you’ll see that they had changed… some.  Joseph brought his entire family to safety in Egypt where they stayed and flourished, but when their father eventually died, the brothers revealed that they had not ever really reckoned with what they had done.  Here’s what they said:

“It may be that Joseph will hate us and pay us back for all the evil that we did to him.”  So they sent a message to Joseph, saying, “Your father gave this command before he died: ‘Say to Joseph, “Please forgive the transgression of your brothers and their sin, because they did evil to you.”’  …  Joseph wept when they spoke to him.  His brothers also came and fell down before him and said, “Behold, we are your servants.”  But Joseph said to them, “Do not be afraid, for am I in the place of God?  As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today.”  Genesis 50: 15-20

Nothing Wasted

The point of the story is this:  God used even the evil that Joseph’s brothers had committed for good.  He used it to accomplish his good purposes.  Through all the hard and painful events of Joseph’s life God made him into a humble, powerful leader.  He used it to save the lives of millions of people by giving Joseph the wisdom and strength he needed to rule well.  And he used the wickedness of Joseph’s brothers to save them too.

Nothing is wasted that God ordains.

The second passage I want to read to you is from Matthew 23.  Jesus was talking to a large crowd of people who had gathered to hear his teaching.  The crowd consisted of people who genuinely wanted to follow him, some people who weren’t sure what they thought, and there was also a group of men called Scribes and Pharisees – religious rulers who were supposed to lead the people in all God’s ways.

But there was a huge problem.  The religious leaders – the ones who had full access to the scriptures and knew all the things God had told his people, were using their positions to fleece the people.  The  truth was so mixed up with lies that it was impossible for the people to know what God really required.  And they had become harsh and cruel.

Jesus said:  you say one thing, but do another.  You’ve played games with peoples’ souls and they follow you to hell – becoming even worse than you!  You’ve made it appear to those you should have been caring for that you were being faithful, but really you were feeding your own greedy desires at their expense!  You’ve neglected and taken advantage of the ones you were supposed to protect and care for!  You do not examine your own hearts but cast judgement on others!

But after he brought all these charges against them he mournfully cried out, saying,

O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it!  How often would I have gathered your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!  Matthew 23: 37

Freedom to Grieve

So – why did I choose these two passages?

First, these have been a huge comfort to me and I wanted to share that with you.  This is a hard time in our family and it would be silly to try to act as if it were not so.  But I am convinced that God is working – even through all these hard things, and yes, even through the wicked things that have been done against us – for good.

Second, I want you to know that it’s ok to grieve over the way things should have been.  I’ve often asked, “how does one grieve over something one has never had?”  But then I remembered Jesus’ lament.  The Scribes and Pharisees were terrible leaders.  Their indifference to the suffering they caused was wicked and cruel – they should have shepherded, but didn’t.  That caused Jesus to grieve deeply.  We can grieve, too.

But very shortly after Jesus lamented over this, he was taken away, beaten and tortured and hung on a cross to die for them – for us.  He wept over the way things were, and then laid down his life to change that.  He might have wept bitterly, but he did not become bitter.  He loved.  We can do that, too.

That’s why he came.  That’s why we have Christmas.

I love you guys.

Mom

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Fight for joy…

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James Winn (acrylic on paper)

Fight for joy…

I’ve referenced the above painting before by my friend James Winn  – it’s one of my favorite possessions.   While the bleak mid-western Winter imperceptibly creeps slowly, oh so slowly toward Spring, it takes a lot of faith to believe that things will ever look differently than they do in this painting.  Winter is long and hard – brutal at times – on the plains.

Intellectually we know that Spring will come – it always does.  But there are days, cold, dark days, when it is difficult to believe it.

I don’t live on the Plains anymore.  In comparatively balmy Delaware, Winter just isn’t that bad.  But the painting continues to lift my thoughts to higher things.

Some days – weather aside – that long-endured battle to be warm grips my soul.  The grass might be green, the humidity and temperatures high, and flip-flops the norm, but lurking in the corners of my mind are the dark days of endless, frigid, face-numbing cold and the struggle against it.

As I struggle to replace that feeling of dread with truth I am reminded how easy it is to believe a lie.

It’s all too easy to believe my emotions and dread the coming months, believing they will be filled with hardship and struggle – simply because that’s how they have been for so long.

My fear of what might be, based on what has been, wants to rule, which is understandable, but false.

Faith is the same way.  Sometimes what I have lived wants to dictate what I believe.  Experience tells us to look at a certain set of circumstances and presume the outcome:

“This will always be this way…”

“She’ll always do these things…”

“He’ll never change…”

“This is what I can look forward to…”

But faith says,

“Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow has enough care for itself.”

“’For I know the plans I have for you,’ says the Lord, ‘plans for a future and a hope…’”

“And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good…”

I’ve been kicking around the phrase “The Joy of the Lord is my strength” and have been wondering, “What does that mean – really?”   What does the Joy of the Lord look like?  Is it the happy “season’s greetings” kind of “joy” that tv, or hallmark, or Hollywood puts forth?  Is it supposed to be that 30- or 60-minute contrived, happy-ending kind of gladness, that is somehow meant to mysteriously last longer… if you just get a few things right?  I don’t know anyone who really lives like that – do you?

As is often the case for me, turning the phrase around a little bit has helped me to think about joy from a different angle.  Rather than a church-y cliché that people sometimes use to mask the struggles they are really having, the Lord’s Joy is something altogether deeper and more meaningful.

The Lord’s Joy is my strength.

Think about that.  The Lord’s joy – not mine, or yours – is given to us.  Far from the “find it inside yourself” kind of joy that we try to manufacture, the joy of the Lord isn’t something we come up with at all!

The perfect, full, rich, abundant, and over-flowing joy that the Lord possesses has been given to us.  How much joy does God possess?  Infinite amounts.  What kind of joy does God have?  The very best of perfectly complete joy – and nothing less.  What is he joyful about?  In a word, Christ.  And, inconceivably, that includes you and me.  We are his and he delights in us.  All of creation has been racing toward one fantastic fulfillment – redemption!  That is you and me living for eternity in sweet, joy-filled fellowship with the Father because of the Son.   That is the great news!  We get to be there.  FOREVER.  If that doesn’t fill you will the Lord’s Joy, what can?

What is meant by joy strengthening us?  If all this joy is ours, why do we need to be strengthened at all?

Because sometimes, often times, My fear of what might be based on what has been wants to rule, which is understandable, but false.

Life can be unimaginably hard.  We have trials.  We have pain.  We have searing disappointments and heartaches.  These things can threaten to undo us.  They can cause us to want to give up.  They can cause us to question the goodness of God and the purpose of his will.  They can gnaw at our confidence in Christ’s work on our behalf and they can attempt to grind our faith into dust.

The Lord’s Joy is our strength.  It’s there.  It’s already been freely given.  But sometimes it is so buried under our circumstances that we have to fight to hold onto it the way Jacob clung to God in the wilderness and would not let him go until God blessed him.

Sometimes we have to fight for the joy that already belongs to us.  The world may look a bit like that painting above – bleak and cold and dark.  But that is not the whole story.  Strength is growing under those furrows.  Perseverance and character and hope are being produced there.  Hope for the things that we know but remain as yet, unseen.

And just as winter always yields to spring and reveals what has been covered under cold and dark layers, the seen will yield to the unseen and we will see what we already know to be true: that every hardship, every tear, every lament has a purpose for good.  Nothing is aimless, nothing is a waste.  It is all making us fit in ways we can’t imagine, so that through them we will be made like the One we love.  Perfect.  Righteous.  Pure.  And most of all, ready.   Jesus is gathering his people to himself and preparing us to live forever with him in beautiful, wonderful, perfect joy.

In the meantime, fight for joy.  It is already yours.

God is doing more through your circumstances than you can possibly know…

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debashis-biswas-197401 (1)You cannot know all that God is doing…

There are events and circumstances being woven together in and around and through your life that you cannot possibly fathom.  That is the truth.  Encounters, trials, illnesses, conversations, music, traffic and every single little thing that happens is purposeful in setting things up to be as they must be in order for other things to happen.

These are the kinds of thoughts that can make our heads spin, but it’s important to give them consideration, at least for a little while every now and then.

I’ve been thinking about this lately – mostly because there is so much in my life, and in the world around me that is not the way it ought to be.  Sin – my own and the sin of others – ruins things.  It distorts and twists into unrecognizable forms the beautiful, good, and true.

We need to see the design – we need to see past the distortions and defects.  In Jon Bloom’s excellent book, Don’t Follow Your Heart (see ch 3) he lays out 46 sovereignly appointed details that were necessary for the “saving of many” through Joseph’s life described in Genesis.  He helpfully demonstrates how seemingly inconsequential details – like the forgetfulness of Pharaoh’s cupbearer – each had monumental impact on the lives of millions of people.

But Joseph didn’t know any of that.  And he couldn’t have known any of it.  He grieved painful losses, endured unimaginable cruelty, languished in unjust slavery and imprisonment, and on and on.  I’m certain (because Joseph was a human being) that he cried out for his circumstances to change.  But they did not.  The reasons they did not are myriad, but most importantly, they are good.

Consider Rahab, too.  Joshua tells us that she was a prostitute in Jericho.  Stop and let that sink in.  No child – regardless of how poor or uneducated – grows up thinking, “I’d like to be a prostitute when I grow up.”  What happened in Rahab’s life that got her to a place where she felt like that was her only option?  Who let her down?  Who failed to protect and provide for her?  Who profited by her misfortune?  How many took advantage of her vulnerability in life?  And what did all of that really look like?

I’m certain that she, too, cried out for her circumstances to change.  But they didn’t either…

And yet, we learn that neither Joseph’s nor Rahab’s circumstances are pointless wastes of human suffering.  God had immeasurably good purposes for them.

Through the tapestry of millions of details working together at just the right time and just the right way, Joseph was used to save the lives of millions of people.  And in doing so, he was used to preserve God’s chosen people to ultimately bring salvation to the world.

Similarly, the same tapestry of woven details intertwined and looped together to not only bring Rahab into the world of prostitution, but also into understanding of the world around her, to keen perception into the intricacies of human nature and behavior, and to equip her with the wisdom necessary to do the right thing in the face of incredible risk.  God used a prostitute to accomplish his plan for his people – but God also orchestrated the millions of details in every moment of her life leading up to the moment she hid Joshua’s spies… including all the painful life circumstances that drove her to prostitution.

It’s hard – so hard – to see the goodness of God in painful circumstances.  We rail against them, and in our pain and anguish, we beg for God to take them away.  But if we can step back a bit, and see the character of God in the midst of our suffering, we catch glimpses of the possibilities of the good that he is weaving together in this tapestry of human history and divine purposes.  Romans 8:28 is often thrown out as a “band-aid” verse at suffering and sufferers, which is unhelpful and, truthfully, unkind.  But there is truth there that is worth getting past this tactic for.

I’m not saying we shouldn’t seek to right the wrongs around us.  We should.  But when we have done everything, and our circumstances persist, we can trust that God has good for us through them.  How do we know that all things will work out for our good?  Because we get a glimpse into God’s character by seeing how he worked it for good for the likes of Joseph and Rahab.  And he is the same yesterday, today, and forever more.

Joseph saved his people from starvation, and through that preservation, God significantly shaped the people he was calling to himself.

Rahab, a prostitute, gave Joshua’s army victory over Jericho… and through aligning with God’s people she became the great-grandmother of David.  And out of the house and lineage of David a Savior was born, who is Immanuel – God with us.

We can praise God for the circumstances in Joseph’s life that led him to saving God’s people from starvation.  We can praise God for the circumstances in Rahab’s life that led her to being a prostitute who hid spies, which then led her to being part of Jesus’ family tree.  And because the story isn’t finished yet, and we are part of that story, we can praise God for our circumstances, knowing that even though we cannot possibly know all that God is doing in them, or through them, he will work them out for our good.

Be encouraged.  Don’t give up.  He is doing more through your circumstances than you can possibly know.

The Incredible Gift – and Power – of Being There

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I have seldom heard such crushing news that I couldn’t bear listening to it.  I have heard many hard stories.  But this one broke my heart and almost made me run – almost.

I sat and listened as a woman told of her journey that began as a Christian physician in a worn-torn, Muslim-majority country which weaved its way through bombings, bullets, and resettlements as a refugee.  Her journey brought her to the US, where her faith in Jesus strengthened her yet again to learn English, a strange culture, and to start life over again as an adult.  It was all too much for her husband who left her with a young son to care for, so now she’s doing it on her own.

But none of this is what broke me.  None of this was new to me, and (hopefully this doesn’t sound callous) none of this surprised me.

Since she told me she was a believer, I asked if she had been able to connect with a good church here – had she found community among other believers in the US who were helping her cope with the arduous task of beginning again?  Her answer is what made me catch my breath and try (unsuccessfully) to hold back tears.

She said, “I go to a good church.  The people there – they have been kind, very kind.  The Word is preached, and they have been very generous.  They have helped me find a home and work.  They have helped me with my bills.  They have helped me figure out how to go to school and how to get needed help for my son.”

And then it came…

“But they leave me alone.”

She said, “In my country, if I was having a very hard day – 7 or 8-hour surgeries where I didn’t know if the patient would survive, babies born dead, limbs shattered because of guns – anything – I could call my brothers and sisters in Christ and they would be there.  They would dodge bullets if they needed to – THEY DID!  They would come to me and be with me.  They would let me cry and let out my anguish without running away from it.  I could endure all of that because they were always there.”

She went on, “You asked if I have found community with my church here.  Not like in my country.  People here don’t know how to sit with someone in pain, but my brothers and sisters there did.  They knew they couldn’t take your pain away, but they weren’t afraid to sit with you in it.  My church here is kind – but they run away from things that are not comfortable.  And my life – my pain – is not comfortable for anyone.  So, they leave me alone.  I am very alone.”

If that doesn’t break your heart, there is something very wrong.  I felt overcome with sadness for my new friend, but also a deep, deep sense of shame and grief for my beloved brethren here.  I know that what she said is too true.  We don’t know how to sit with people in pain.  We don’t like being uncomfortable.

I found myself asking, “What kind of suffering does it take to wake us up?”  If a refugee who has been so terribly traumatized won’t do it, what will?  If abused women and children won’t do it, what will?  If death and disease and trials that brake us won’t do it, what will?

Beloved church – dear, kind, generous church – we must wake up to the tremendous power of our presence in another’s life.  We don’t need to know the answers – most of them are unknowable!  But we do need to show up.  We need to let people cry and pour out their anguish and pain.  We need to be patient when they need to do it again and again until the storm is past.  Suffering doesn’t care about schedules, and no sufferer will trust you with their story if you can’t first sit in the presence in their pain.  We need to be there – and stay there while the storm rages.  And since the weight of suffering is so great, sufferers usually need multiple helpers.

We don’t like to make ourselves vulnerable to the discomfort of much of anything really, let alone sitting in the presence of unrelenting suffering.  None of us wants pain.  We don’t know what to do with it.  We don’t know how to just let it be.  But we’re called to bear one another’s burdens – it’s what makes us different from the world around us. It’s how we demonstrate Christ’s love.

What keeps us so distant?  Work?  Sports schedules?  School plays?  Ministries that keep us running around with zero time to spare?  These are not bad things, but none of them is good enough.  We are called to die to ourselves for the sake of the gospel.  If a brother or sister is naked or hungry, we feed them well enough, which is good.  But if one is in prison (and what sufferer wouldn’t describe intractable pain as prison?) we are told to visit thembe there. 

We all needed flesh incarnate to understand the love of God.  We see it in Jesus – Immanuel – God with us.  But we learn it from one another.  We learn it from someone demonstrating it to us.  God uses us to reveal his incarnate presence to others.  Think about the awesome privilege that is:  you, a frail and faulted human being have the honor of representing the living God in this way to a hurting soul.  This is a powerful gift to humanity.  Take it up – cheerfully, gladly, reverently.

Who is there in your life right now that you can give some of yourself to?  Who is there right now who is suffering and lonely?  Who is there who is aching for another human soul to simply show up and be there with them?

Go.  Be there.

The Lack That Fills Us Up

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I was recently with some friends and we were sharing with one another how the hardest things in our lives – the really hard things – are the things, in the end, that we are the most deeply grateful to God for.

This was no list of “privileged” suffering – this was raw, painful stuff – abject poverty, abuse, barrenness, deaths of spouses, and real struggles that make most people uncomfortable to even acknowledge the existence of.  Yet this group, through tears even, rejoiced and expressed gratitude for what God had allowed – or perhaps, more specifically, what God had withheld.

Who among us doesn’t want food and shelter?  Who doesn’t want love and safety in their relationships?  How many of us plan to lose a spouse before we’re old?  And while I’m aware there are some exceptions, how many women do you know who don’t long to bear and raise children?  These are things so basic to our human existence that many people – most people – can’t really imagine what it is like to live without them.  And yet, there we were, without any plans to accomplish this – and to be truthful, not really having even realized all this about our little circle (it’s definitely not why we were together) – sharing how God, in his providential care, had chosen to withhold them from us in various ways.  It was an intensely beautiful time together.

There was real grief shared – painful, sorrowful, hard experiences.  And yet, all of it was accompanied with rejoicing for the deep and profound lessons – the gifts of those lessons! – that God has taught through them.  There was no sugar-coating of the realities involved – the experiences of grief and suffering can feel harsh, unrelenting, and even cruel.  But shining through the lines of story after story were beaming, glorious, wonderful realizations of the light of God’s goodness and kindness in withholding the good things that we had each longed for and providing lack instead.  

How do we learn that God is our provider if we never have to look to him for provision?  How do we learn that God cares for his children if we never know what it is like to lack care?  How do we know how long-suffering God is with our sin if we never face long-standing patterns of sin in those we love?  How can we know the sweet comfort of the Comforter if we never need to be comforted?

We can’t.

And so the truth is, God orchestrates lack into our lives in order to fill us with something infinitely better than what even those very good things can bring – Himself.  When we lack food and shelter, he is our portion and our cup – the bread of life.  He is our strong tower, our refuge and he would rather allow us to hunger and thirst for him than to have a full belly and no taste for Truth.

When we are victims to the horrible evil that dwells within men’s hearts, we find a suffering Savior who knows what that is like because he suffered unimaginable abuse at the hands of the deepest evil the world has ever known, and through it demonstrates how he delights to make beauty that can only truly be appreciated through seeing and knowing and living in the ashes.

When we are devastated by tragedy and loss, we come to know the Man of Sorrows, acquainted with grief who would rather let us experience the searing pain of loss than let us miss out on what a Perfect Bridegroom can provide in the midst of all that pain.

And when we long for something so badly that our chests ache and our souls burn, we find the tender, compassionate Shepherd who would rather give us what he knows we ought to long for so they will shape us into a better reflection of his goodness and care, than allow us to become arrogant or proud in the fulfillment of our lesser desires.

It is so contrary to what we want!  It is so opposite of what we think!  We want good things – and they are good!  But the problem is that they are not good enough – and that is what our lack reveals to us.  Not having what we long for reveals our real needs to us.  Not having the things we want refines our tastes for the things we need.  Suffering the loss of what is precious to us helps us value the One who is most precious of all.

Our lack – especially of good things – ends up making room for the best things.  Praise God for being willing to bear our sorrow and broken hearts in order to fill us with joyful, thankful ones that know him better and love him more because of it!

 

Further thoughts on Luke 10:2… therefore

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“The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few. Therefore pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.”  Luke 10:2

 

Therefore

You’ve probably heard this before, but it’s worth saying here:  whenever you see the word “therefore” you need to look and see what it’s there for.

Therefore is a connecting word.  It connects what has preceded it to what is coming next.  There is culmination involved.  The speaker or writer has been building a case, setting the stage, laying it out as it were to get to something else.

Jesus has done just that here.  The stage is set:

“The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few” has been laid out for all it’s glorious, yet problematic reality.  Jesus has a gargantuan task for his followers to work hard in.  A task so big and so far reaching that it is impossible, except that we know that nothing is impossible with God.

And now he’s about to explain how we are to participate with Him in His glorious plan.  There should be anticipation, expectancy, hope! – for we’ve just seen the problem but we know that the Savior we serve is full of miraculous, unexpected answers for the impossible.

We’ve looked closely at each of these words, both in their meaning separately and in how they stand together.  This is Jesus talking to us.  This is our Savior who has drawn us so effectively to himself that he has taken our hearts of stone and turned them into hearts of flesh to follow hard after him.  This is our friend and teacher – our guide and protector – who has told us “fear not, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.  He will never leave you nor forsake you…”

Everything that precedes the “therefore” is to remind us of the kind of Master we serve.  It is setting the foundation for what follows.  It gives us all the reasons for the next part.  It is saying, “because of all of this….”

We need the foundation because we forget who we are talking about.  We need the setting of the stage because we lose sight of the plan.  We need the case to be built again for us – plainly – because we get distracted by so many lesser things.

Remembering that he is good and kind, faithful, true, loving, patient, powerful, and every other thing that we know is TRUE of the mighty God we serve  will give us courage for the impossible task he is calling us to.  It is because of this that we are reminded that “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me,” and like Paul we preach to ourselves, “It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”

These truths anchor of our souls.  They keep us from being blown and tossed by the storms in our lives.  They center us on what is important and our focused gaze on who is talking to us will help us ignore the thousands of things around us at every given moment on every given day.

Being reminded that Jesus has a purpose to all of this and that he is calling us to see his plan – to be intimately engaged in his mission –  reminds us that the world is not spinning aimlessly into oblivion.  He is in control of all things and through Him all things hold together.  He was sent to bring a people to himself and he is calling us – inviting us – to the same purpose.  He is calling us to be actively involved in his Kingly work.

In calling us to remember that he has already accomplished everything he needs to achieve his stated goals.  He reminds us that His work will be accomplished – we need not ever fear that our labor for Him will be the toil that grinds us into the ground.  Instead, he promises good fruit for faithful service.  Jesus says there is a plentiful harvest.  He doesn’t say, “Look guys, if we all work together we just might be able to pull this one off.”  No!  It’s a sure thing.  A sealed deal.  We have assurance that the One with the power, might, and authority to do all of this is telling us it has already been secured.

“With my plan and purposes in mind,” he says “therefore…”

“Because I am the God of the Universe,” he says,  “therefore…”

“Because I have conquered sin and death,” he says,  “therefore…”

“Because I have a people to call to myself from every tongue and tribe and nation,” he says, “therefore…”

“Because I am who I am,” he says, “therefore…”

And here, if we’re listening and paying attention to the One we know and love and trust, we hear what Jesus is saying.  He is telling us, “Because I have a beautiful harvest that is ready to be brought into my good and perfect kingdom storehouses of souls that will live forever in My presence and sweet communion with me and all who are mine, and because there will never be enough of you to accomplish that – to bring in all the magnificent, glorious, God-magnifying plentiful bounty I have prepared to reap today and in every age until I return, from here and every group of people on the face of the earth… therefore.

These are unshakable truths.  They are not hopeful wishes or sighs of optimistic, positive thinking.  They are givens.  Absolutes.  Unqualified and unconditional.  Jesus will accomplish what he has said he will accomplish because he already has done everything needed to accomplish it.

They are because he says they are – and we can trust in them because we trust in Him.

What if…?

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Yesterday I was challenged with a “What if…?” question.

“What if” questions require imagination.  They require us to ponder the possibilities, explore the potentials, and mentally fly to places unknown.  What if questions are usually an invitation to hope and dream about positive, wonderful things.  I encourage my kids to ask “what if?” all the time.  I want them to learn to imagine and dream the biggest of hopes and possibilities.  It’s a good exercise.

But I have to admit that when the question was first being posed to me, I wasn’t feeling particularly imaginative…or positive…or wonderful.

This particular “what if” scenario wasn’t about imagining the possibilities of great inventions or missions opportunities or travel destinations.  It wasn’t about letting my mind take me away to possible twists and turns on my life journey or even hopes or dreams.

No.  This “what if” question was about pain.

“What if,” my friend asked me, “this current pain that is so hard is actually meant to be life-giving rather than the death you think it is?”  I knew where he was going, but I was not particularly jumping up and down about going down that imaginary road with him.

I was thinking, “But the pain is… well, I don’t mean to sound dense, but… it’s painful.  And I want it to stop – yesterday. I don’t want to open myself up to the possibilities of it – I want to close myself off so it stops hurting so much.”

I knew that probably wasn’t the wisest thing to say out loud.  Even as it was rolling around in my mind, I could hear the stories of Joseph and Job and Paul objecting to my objections.

Still, I wanted to say, “But…”

I didn’t.

I listened.  Wanting desperately to object to the idea that the pain had to continue, and wanting to object vehemently to the notion that it might be for my good.

“Why does pain have to be such a harsh task master?”

Why, oh why can’t we learn the hard things through easier means?”

These were the questions I wanted to raise like a child wailing at the top of her lungs while the Physician was trying to administer a life-saving remedy.

I don’t want pain.  I certainly don’t want pain that has to last and last.

But I know better.

I know that the painful lessons are the most thorough ones.  I know that the tutelage of pain has the most lasting impact.  And I know, more than anything, that the painful times bear the sweetest, truest, deepest, richest spiritual fruit in my life.

Do I want to embrace this pain as the faithful teacher I know it to be?  Not really – do you like hugging porcupines?  But I’ll hug him again and again if I have faith that there will be an even greater reward than I can ask for or imagine on the other side of pulling out the quills.

I’ve been asked to trust that the pain will achieve its purpose because it has come through the hands of my loving Heavenly Father.  And I’m being asked to consider the possibility that hopeful anticipation for the blessed reward on the other side of it all will make me wonder what I was so afraid of.  Big requests, really, but honest ones.

Opening one’s self, voluntarily – willingly ­– to the lessons of pain feels like giving one’s self over to the tyranny of a tormentor… Unless we know our Teacher well.

Trusting in human beings is risky business.  But trusting in the One who loves me enough to lay down His life for me isn’t risky at all.  Keeping my eyes – and heart and thoughts and hopes and dreams – stayed on Jesus will bring me safely to the other side of all of this.  Even if it goes on and on He will sustain me and comfort me and be enough for me.  I know this to be true.

So onward pain.  Do your work. Have your way with me and mold me into a woman who radiates the tested beauty that only the heat of a refiner’s fire can produce.  Keep me captive until I have learned the God-exalting lessons you have prepared for me.  And do not leave until this work is accomplished.

And Lord, for what it’s worth… I do believe all of this.  I know that you work all things together for my good, because I am yours.  I know that you have plans for me for a future and a hope.  I know that my help comes from you and you are my defender and ever-present helper in times of need.  Lord, I do believe all that  – but please, help my unbelief.