Don't Trust the Journey, But One Who Set You on It

Imagine a journey. At the start of the journey, it becomes evident there is a wonderful opportunity for redemption. A friend tells you God has given her a word; the word is "Redemption." And it's confirmed. You set out, praying for everyone you meet along the way. You know this is about redemption, but you're not sure whose. Is it yours? Someone your caring for? Someone watching? Maybe it's the redemption of someone who is discouraging you, trying to thwart your progress along this journey. You administer grace. You focus on God and what He tells you to do. You wake up each morning, a surrendered spirit. And you have peace. Daily you bask in the grace and mercy of God. You see miracle after miracle taking place. When problems arise, you simply pray, and sometimes you're not even certain if God solved them, or removed them, or changed you; you just know that whatever it is isn't a problem anymore. It is like nothing you've ever experienced. 

But then, the journey gets longer. And the journey gets harder. There are "earthly" things to do. The battle rages and your emotions become the sword you wield. You no longer pray for everyone you meet. Some of those people you thought might be redeemed don't seem too interested, so you just pray for the ones that seem a little more ready for redemption. It's busy around here, why waste your time with people who "will never change?" You have to focus on facts and circumstances. Before you know it, your goal is a right end -- not a righteous end -- to the journey. Your prayers are less about redemption, and more about victory. Sure, it's all for the Lord. Sure, you'll give Him all the credit. But, your plan is just so perfect, so succinct. Why would God want anything different?

Like it's been since days of old, humanity turns its focus from God -- the One who created and sustains us, the Alpha and Omega, the Most High, the Sovereign and Mighty -- to itself. "We can handle this one. The way we say it, or do it is just a bit better suited for this situation. Sure, we're spiritual, but sometimes the natural demands we do it this way." That's utter foolishness. And it's our foolishness. Why would God want anything different? Because He doesn't think the way we do, because He is not corrupt or limited the way we are. With God, nothing is impossible -- even His purpose that grows to appear unlikely as we journey.

Whatever it is, whatever path He has set you on, is by His design. He is working all things out for His glory and your good. Keep your eyes fixed on Him. Trust that He is working even when you can't see it, even when it appears there is no way. He is the Way Maker, the Miracle Worker, and He is God. 

Sometimes a Broken Heart Is Just What God Gives Us

What does it mean to be a "mom?" I'm still learning. Though the tangibles seem to change with time, the intangibles appear to remain the same. It's just that the intangibles, at least for me, have been a little more difficult to maintain. For instance, when my first child was born, I knew there'd be diapers and feedings and lots of sleepless nights. I had no idea just how many and how difficult some of those days would be. I knew that, in spite of all of that, I would love this precious gift the best way I knew how. I'd play and kiss booboos and surround him with love and teach him everything I could so he could grow up with every advantage possible. A bond was formed from the moment I knew he was, and I could actually feel terror rising up within me when I thought of anything that might harm him.

But children grow up, and the tangibles change. Feedings morphed into an adequate supply of chicken nuggets; booboos were exchanged for rides to work. I'd still tell him I loved him and I tried to teach him, but he was developing his own ideas, and the things I knew no longer appeared relevant to him. The terror I now felt came from the feeling he was harming himself. And I tendered my resignation.

I've been studying the Book of Jonah. God called Jonah to be a prophet to the people of Nineveh, a desperately wicked people. Jonah knew of their wickedness and God's mercy. Why try to reform people that haven't done a thing to help themselves? Why have people like that -- people who should be punished for their recidivism and wantonness -- in "our" club? Why keep hoping for people who have proven themselves hopeless? Jonah tendered his resignation.

One of the intangibles of motherhood -- of parenthood, is having a broken heart for your child. When my children were small, I was not a Christ follower. I believed He existed, but I only talked to Him when I was really in a jam. I lived in such a way that those things which caused me pain or conflict, I extinguished or disregarded. I did not build healthy relationships -- with anyone, and my children suffered for that. By the time my children were well into their teen years, I was seeking Jesus, but quite a bit of damage had been done, and the hurt was deep on both sides. As I began to mature in Christ, I asked forgiveness and tried to approach our relationship in a new and more Christlike way. Some responded, some did not. When it came to the "did nots," my resignation still stood. I can't do anything about unforgiveness. I can't do anything about someone who blames me for everything. When does it stop being my fault, and they start taking responsibility for their own problems? I can't do anything about someone who won't help themselves. And my heart became hard. Praise God, I am still growing! The history of Jonah is showing me my resignation has never been accepted by the Lord. I was commissioned to have a broken heart -- and to pray -- for my children from the moment I became a mother. Their failures and foolishness may be painful for me to watch; I may even become so frustrated and discouraged by their lack of regard that I want to quit. Fractures in our relationship may prevent me from being a mom the way I was most comfortable -- sharing meals, conversations, hugs, gifts, attending church together -- but I CANNOT resign. And I cannot allow hardness in my heart. Like Jonah, I cannot stop being who God has called me to be until He says I can stop. That doesn't mean accepting responsibility for anything I did not do; it doesn't mean beating myself up for the things for which I have sought forgiveness (God doesn't want unforgiveness in my heart either). But, that means allowing my heart to be broken for the things that break my Savior's heart, and praying. For them. Without ceasing.

Pain and Promise

"The pains of death surrounded me,
And the pangs of Sheol laid hold of me;
I found trouble and sorrow."

Psalm 116:3. Imagine Jesus singing these words just hours before His murder. This is a portion of the Hallel, a song of praise to to the Lord. A song Jesus and His friends would have sung at the Passover dinner He planned so carefully for them. Verse 4 continues, "Then I called upon the name of the Lord: 'O Lord, I implore You, deliver my soul!'” Is there any fear greater than the fear of death? Death finds us at the hands of another. We are powerless against its ravages and against the means it will use to ravage us. We were not created to die, and our flesh testifies to that by crying out against it. Even in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus pleaded with His Father again and again, "O My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me." Jesus had come to a place where He would give up His life in death, the most human of things this world requires of our bodies. But, He would lay it down, willingly, obediently. When He sang those words of the Hallel, describing the encroaching savagery of death, when He considered the impending abuse His body would suffer, what was going through His mind? When He sang of crying out to His Father, begging Him to deliver His soul, did the tears begin to well up? 

Months before we knew the children would be leaving us, God began sending me messages, messages of hope. Social media, sermons, songs. Hope was everywhere I turned. And I have learned, if He is talking to me about something, I'm going to need it. When everyone said, "There's no way those children will leave," when all the facts spoke out against them leaving, something inside me said, "You're going to need hope. It's going to be difficult, but don't lose hope." I prayed against what I was feeling; I prayed God's will and my wish had been forged in the same fire. But, I knew, His answer would be, "No." At the moment Jesus sang these words, He'd not yet prayed; He'd not yet lifted up His petition in Gethsemane, but I have to believe Jesus knew on some level, there would be no change to the solution for mankind's separation from God. I have to believe He knew He was going to have to go through with it. The answer the Father gave Jesus was "no". God had a plan, and it required His Son's complete obedience, no matter how difficult the circumstances. 

"Gracious is the Lord, and righteous; Yes, our God is merciful." The psalmist doesn't tell us, in verse 5, how God answered his plea. He sings of death, and crying out, and then... "Gracious is the Lord, and righteous; Yes, our God is merciful." Maybe God delivered him right then and there. Maybe God told him, just as He told His Son, "I can't do that right now. It will be for your good and My glory, but it's got to happen this way." I imagine Jesus singing these words, tears streaming down His face the same way they have mine. I imagine His voice cracking as mine has when I have, especially during great pain, raised a song to His inestimable goodness. It's the steadfast knowledge of the kindness of God as it collides with the excruciating pain of circumstances, of what will or probably will be. It's resolute, unwavering faith in the mercy and grace of God as it meets heartbreak, uncertainty, and a desire to escape bitter conditions. It is trusting in the hope we have, believing in the promise of deliverance and victory, but knowing that, at least for now, you are here. At this point. Not lost, but certainly not where your flesh desires to be; not faithless, but certainly not where your spirit longs to be. And the tears fall.

"Gracious is the Lord, and righteous; Yes, our God is merciful."