Tag: Trials

emmaus or bust

The Road to Emmaus, artwork by Daniel Bonnell

C. S. Lewis identified many of us as “ordinary privates in the huge army of the bereaved, slogging along and making the best of a bad job.”

Today is a struggle job for me. I went through my prayers this morning with monotone indifference. The reading of the Word was like a dried up fountain. I’m very close to tears and want very much to be left alone.

Very little is working out the way Sandy and I hoped (expected?) 333 days ago. I am slogging through sludge in heavy boots and an overfilled backpack. If I didn’t feel the need to preserve an iota of dignity I’d be tempted to throw my head back and scream. I’ll restrain myself.

When I left the house this morning I said barely ten words to Sandy, telling her, “Headed to the library. I love you.” How I longed for some quiet and introspection. I need to process; I need to think; I need to write.

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Before heading out I grabbed the recent Plough Quarterly that arrived in yesterday’s mail and have it open before me now. The theme for the issue is, “PAIN & PASSION.” What a coincidence.

One of the opening articles features a Dominican order of Sisters who offer palliative care to dying patients in NYC. Here’s what got me: the older Sisters advise the newbies that (1) their ministry is just that; it requires they first attend to their own souls in Christ before they can love and offer mercy to their patients. And, (2), never forget that all their patients are terminal; the Sisters are there to lovingly prepare them for the next world.

Those same pieces of advice will do good for me today, if I pay heed. I can’t rise above this unless I receive the love of Jesus and trust him, first and foremost; and next I must resign to the dictum, once again, that I am not made for this world.

A page over, a pastor who lost his 22-year old to an aggressive form of lymphoma cancer wrote about his desperate search for solace against the backdrop of stupefying loss:

It was a tremendous relief to realize that we [he and his wife] are not strong people; we are plain, ordinary people. And if we need to cry, then cry. If we need to grieve, then grieve. Do it hard and deeply, and then move on.

Randall Gauger, In Search of Solace

That’s good counsel. I think I’ll cry.

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I’ve spent some time this week with three people: N. T. Wright and a pair of disgruntled disciples on the road away from Jerusalem. Wright captures their mood with,

“They had been traveling up a road they thought was leading to freedom, and it turned out to be a cul-de-sac.”

N. T. Wright, The Challenge of Jesus

The thing is, the Emmaus Road disciples were having their debate in the early evening hours of Easter! They’d heard rumors about a Missing Body and certain women having visions, but instead of staying back and investigating they slogged their way home.

Jesus had already risen. The apex of redemptive history has just happened. The Blessed Hope of Mankind is alive! And they are grousing about how nothing has worked out the way it was promised.

About here is where I need to do some Soul Talk. I don’t mind that you’re here, but if you’ll excuse me: Soul, why are you downcast? Why are you in turmoil? Has Jesus not Risen?

Bring me your sorrow, and watch for the sunrise of the resurrection. Yes, truly there comes always a resurrection – a morning when hope is reborn and life finds new beginning. Wait for it as tulip bulbs anticipate the spring. The rarest blooms are enhanced by the coldness of winter…Your God is your maker. He is your defender. And He is mighty to save. Yes, He is not only mighty to save from sin, but He is mighty to save from despair, from sorrow, from disappointment, from regret, from remorse, from self-castigation, and from the hot, blinding tears of rebellion against fateful circumstances.

Francis J. Roberts, Come Away, My Beloved

These two, perhaps husband and wife (I think so), mourned the loss of hope. But, just then, a Man joined them in their walk of sorrow. Jesus was a Stranger to them but he gave both something they could carry the rest of their way home. The Resurrected One granted them their own resurrection. Did not our hearts burn within us?

I’m on the struggle bus today but I’ll be fine. My heart will live to burn again another day. Today I cry; tonight I’ll still be His. He’s resurrected my tired bones before and he’ll do it 10,000 more times before I get home. What I have is terminal; what he has is eternal.

Amen.

faithfully trusting when the assignment is hard

Should anyone’s life illustrate the maxim, “If God brought you to it, he’ll bring you through it” it’s Joseph. Very much against his will Joseph was “brought down to Egypt.” But it would not be the end of the story. Faithful Joseph, as you know, went from the pits to a palace and became the vice-ruler in Egypt!

I’ve been thinking about Joseph a lot these days. His brothers contemplated murdering him, and then they settled for the lesser crime of trafficking him into slavery. By the providence of God he finds himself in a rather favorable arrangement. That all blows up when his sex-starved employer’s wife falsely accuses him of attempted rape.

All this and Joseph is still only 17 years old.

His employer explodes and throws him in prison. Even still, Joseph conducts himself in such a way that impresses the warden and is given special privileges. If he thought his good conduct might gain him an early release, however, Joseph, now in his 20s, had another thing coming. Literally.

This is the life of young Joseph. Misunderstanding. Betrayal. Mistreatment. Injustice. One thing after another, and still more after that. Thirteen l o n g years.

All of it, every last bit of it, was intended to get Joseph next to the ruler of Egypt where he could be positioned to do greater good in the world. Talk about earning a promotion!

Could you handle that assignment?

After all he had to endure, Joseph grabbed hold of his God and clung to him for dear life. There are quite a few sterling moments to draw out of his testimony, but I want to highlight just this one:

Pharaoh said to Joseph, “I had a dream, and there is no one who can interpret it. But I have heard about you, that you can interpret dreams.” Joseph replied to Pharaoh, “It is not within my power, but God will speak concerning the welfare of Pharaoh.”

What startles me about this is that Joseph, in spite of everything, still believed God was all-powerful and he was motivated to do good. There doesn’t seem to be a shred of bitterness in him. Joseph still believed there was a divine plan at work and God was using his story of faith to bless others.

Fellow struggler, trust God down there in your Egypt. There is a way forward even though you wake up to the same thing day after day. You think this is it, this is all, just grit your teeth and bear it. I assure you there’s a plan in the mind of God and it is good.

One thing you don’t see Joseph doing — quite remarkably — is playing the victim. He shows us if we can thrive in and rise to the level of excellence in our adversity, by the grace of God, we will be overcomers. It may take 13 years (Joseph) or 20 years (Jacob) or 25 years (Abraham & Sarah) or 40 years (Moses), or however long, but you won’t find a better alternative than to

TRUST

GOD’S

PLAN.

I must hasten. In studying the travails of Joseph I want to leave you with two immutable truths:

1. it’s always right to do good even if you don’t see a reward for it

I get it; everything about this makes you want to scream. Where’s the justice? The equity? You wonder why you have to smile and take it. Do right though the stars fall, I once heard. Keep your hand to the plow, Jesus said. Don’t do right for right’s sake, Paul said, do right for Jesus’s sake.

To that end I read this aloud from my prayer book this morning:

I would serve in imitation of you, who poured out your life for me. I would serve knowing that your Spirit is ever at work in the lives of those I serve, ever calling, ever drawing, ever seeking to soften hearts encased in fear and disappointment and anger and idolatry. So let my kindnesses and sacrifice fall like warm shafts of sunlight on icy ground.

I cannot know the end of another person’s story… So let me be content to minister regardless of visible outcomes, trusting that the small mercies I extend will be woven into the larger theme of redemption at work in the lives of others, as you woo them to yourself…

Every Moment Holy, Vol. 1, p. 158

2. God’s favor will find you even in your darkest trial

Okay. If we’re being honest, none of us is going to be a ruler over a nation. We probably won’t get our story published; this post won’t go viral. But is that what it’s about anyway? Could we (hear me out) say amen to God even if we knew nothing would change?

I leave you with this. At the end of his grave injustices, Joseph got married and raised a family. I beg you to read about that here. The names of those two boys, Manasseh and Ephraim, tell quite a story. Your homework is to study their meanings. What I’ll say about it is this: Joseph married an Egyptian bride, but their sons bore Hebrew names.

That tells me Joseph wanted to remember his journey. None of it was a mistake. Not a single year was wasted. Even in Egypt, Joseph’s God was faithful, his trials were necessary, and the outcome was favorable. I have a feeling if Joseph never got out of that prison, never sat on a throne, never had a family, he’d still say

“It’s not me, it’s God.”

Joseph lived to be 110. He learned to love Egypt but his hope was in the home country. He wanted to go home. That’s all that matters in the end. When you’re finished with me in Egypt, Lord, take me home.

Hey, beloved of God, if he brought you to it he’ll bring you through it. He gave you the assignment; he must be pretty certain you will come through to the other side to tell your story. And what a story you’ll have.

Selah.

broken record

Scott’s sick. Again.

Scott’s in the hospital. Again.

We need to pray for Scott‘s health. Again.

In recent weeks yet another ambulance crew carried me from my home where once again I brushed up against the cold bosom of death.

Yesterday, glory hallelujah, my wife carried me from the hospital, still alive and well, God having shown himself — again — faithful to deliver me from yet another close call.

Charles Spurgeon said, “He who has been with us in six troubles, will not forsake us in the seventh.”

I’m imagining you through my screen and telling you with all sincerity that there has never been a trial or a problem or tribulation or hardship or difficulty that God has not come through for me and delivered me. It is true his deliverance does not always come at the exact moment or in the exact way I thought, but I have never been forsaken and he has always shown his redemptive purposes in setting me free.

But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair;

2 Corinthians 4:7-8

Through it all, through everything, he’s shown himself faithful and there’s no end to how grateful and in awe of him I am.

This is my story.
And, yes, this is my song.
I’m praising my Savior all the day long.

For obvious reasons, the book of Job has been a regular read for me. I’ve often turn to its pages to remind myself that God is sovereign through all of my hard times.

When you come to Job 23:14, it reads,

“For he will complete what he appoints for me,

and many such things are in his mind.”

Which could be paraphrased to mean:

“He has many ways to refine us – and He’ll use them anytime, anyway He wants.”

Here’s my story in 6 words:

Broken.
Blessed.

Grieving.
Grateful.

Waiting.
Worshipping.

My suffering was good for me,

because through it I learned your statutes.

Psalm 119:71

David referred to himself as a “broken” man. As bad as that is, he still knew a secret: the word he chose (‘âḇaḏ’) is the same Hebrew word used when God put Adam in His Garden and told him to “tend” it. It’s the picture of breaking up the sod and clods of dirt, using a hoe or rake. Poured into those crevasses and furrows and holes is the fertilizer needed to grow fruit and grain from fertile soil.

David was saying, “He fills my broken places with His Life and I rejoice in my afflictions because I know my dying is my living!”

David recognizes he might be broken, but he’s not a LOST CAUSE. He’s not unfixable, not unredeemable. He has greater value when he submits to the Lord’s plough.

Everything you suffer, all you’ve lost, whatever breaking you’ve endured, is working in you a lush harvest that will bring life to others!

A few years ago, my Sandy had the opportunity to travel with a high school choir to Italy for competition. On one particular off-day they did some sightseeing and visited Venice and “The Bridge of Sighs.”

There’s a long history with this famous place in Venice but the thing that most sticks out is the bridge connects a prison with a palace. Back in the day, the prisoners were led across this bridge after their sentencing in the palace and they would have to look through the narrow windows of the bridge on their last look at freedom. They would “sigh” in sorrow as they were led away in chains to their cell where they would live out the rest of their days.

Your trials feel like a prison. You ask God, “Why am I still single?“ “Why am I depressed?” “Why can’t I ever seem to get a break?” “Why can’t I get past this?” You wonder if he has abandoned you. You question his goodness. Some days you feel as though you’re serving hard time. It’s very much a prison to you.

The Lord invites you to “sigh” and surrender and believe he is going to escort you from your cell and lead you into a palace of blessing.

In a way I am still on the prison side of the bridge but, like Paul and Silas, I am singing at midnight… so it feels like I am on the palace side!

Let’s go back to our scripture we considered first.

Many are the afflictions of the righteous…

That tells me trials are a necessary part of our discipleship. That message doesn’t always draw a crowd, but it’s undeniably true. There are so many manys on our journey with Christ. We’re all like broken records.

The Hebrew word “affliction” is often translated in the Old Testament as “evil.” It is also translated “bad.”
“Wicked.”“Mischief.”

Take heart, sisters and brothers; when bad befalls you it comes from an enemy that despises you. This means you are in the safe embrace of Someone who loves you.

Scott’s sick. Again.

We gotta pray for Scott. Again.

Scott’s got another wound.

Trouble for the Mitchells. Again.

James says life is “hole-punched” with trials. Paul said “it is through many hardships we come into the kingdom.” He told the Corinthians he “faces daily pressure” and “anxiety.” David said, “every night I flood my bed with tears; I drenched my couch with my weeping.”

You can’t walk with Christ and not feel the blows. Romans tells us we “died with him” but we also “suffer with with him.”

Paul Miller writes of his daughter Ashley who died at age 42 of stage-4 colon cancer. Before she died Ashley told her bible study group:

“I cannot talk about cancer without talking about Jesus. I cannot talk about my trials without Jesus. I equate it to eating a Reese‘s – Jesus is the chocolate and suffering is the peanut butter – they just go together.”

Paul E. Miller, The J-Curve, 310-11

But wait. The second line of our verse makes the first line worth it: “But the Lord delivers him out of them all.”

Peter said even if you’re “grieved by various trials” you can “rejoice” (“dance for joy”) in this: future glory (and oftentimes present) will be much sweeter to you than you can even imagine.

Soon and very soon, the record that’s been skipping and repeating and jumping and scratching will stop and all our agains will be wiped away and his eternal never again will be our forever anthem.

This is our story, this is our unbroken song. Amen.

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