There is a downside to the fact that God wants what is best for us: He is willing to do whatever it takes to get us to cooperate with His plan.
If you subscribe to the concept of free will, then God is never going to force us to do anything. But He will arrange circumstances to "encourage" us to move toward Him.
Hebrews 12:7 tells us to "endure hardship as discipline." I'm not sure when the word discipline got its negative connotation, but, originally, it was a positive thing. Discipline meant "instruction which aims at increasing virtue" (BLB). And that's how the author of Hebrews is using the word, too. He says, "God disciplines us for our good, that we may share in his holiness," and discipline "produces a harvest of righteousness and peace" (Hebrews 12:10-11).
Holiness. Righteousness. Peace.
These are all things I want. These are all things God wants for me. But when I can't see how obeying God in a given situation is going to help me reach these goals, God is willing to do whatever He has to in order to adjust my vision. He is willing to send hardship. He is willing to discipline in the hopes that I will be trained by it (Hebrews 12:11).
He can correct me all day long, but if I refuse to learn from the discipline, I'll never share in his holiness or righteousness or peace. Instead, I'll stay in my selfishness and turmoil. And God, in turn, will have to tweak my circumstances once again in order to show me the way I am operating is not in my best interest.
A long time ago, God told Jeremiah, "In vain I punished your people; they did not respond to correction" (Jeremiah 2:30). God was exasperated with Israel! Year after year they traded His Glory for worthless idols (Jeremiah 2:11). The rest of the book tells of how Israel is unwilling to do what is in their best interest. They are unwilling to be trained by the discipline God has been employing. He is going to have to go to extreme measures if He wants to convince Israel that their idol worship is bad for them. So He does. He lets Judah be conquered, and the Israelites were taken into captivity for 70 years.
SEVENTY YEARS!
I don't want God to have to go to extremes to get my attention. I don't want Him to have to keep turning up the heat because I am so stubborn I refuse to pursue what's best for me. I want to respond immediately to His discipline. I want to be trained by it. I want to trust Him enough to obey Him even when I can't see how anything good will come from it.
Showing posts with label trials. Show all posts
Showing posts with label trials. Show all posts
5.09.2011
How to Rejoice When You Don't Want to
When life sucks, I have a hard time rejoicing. But God wants believers to rejoice always (Philippians 4:4).
Always?
Surely God doesn't mean always. Because that's impossible.
How can we be expected to rejoice when we're stuck in a job we hate? Or when our kids are sick? Or when our marriage is at an all-time low? Or when the doctor tells us we are infertile? Or when we don't know how we're going to pay the mortgage this month?
How can a reasonable God require us to rejoice in these kinds of circumstances?
I think the answer is He doesn't.
He never calls us to rejoice in circumstances at all. He calls us to rejoice in Him, no matter what our circumstances look like.
I think this distinction is huge. It directly affects how we view God.
Philippians 4:4 reads, "Rejoice in the Lord always."
If we think God wants us to rejoice over the loss of a child or our recent divorce, then we'll see God as sadistic and unfeeling.
But if we think God wants us to rejoice in Him - His goodness and His unfailing love - while we're in the circumstances, then we'll see God as a compassionate Savior and a heroic Redeemer, offering us hope that we don't otherwise have.
Here's how that pans out in reality.
You've just moved to a new town where you have no friends or family to speak of. You are far from home. You feel isolated and depressed as you grieve the friendships you've left. You're hating life right now, loathing each and every minute. And the Lord says rejoice. If we hear this as "rejoice in your situation", we'll say, "There is nothing good about this situation. I am hurting! Even if I try to think positively about all the Lord might have in store for me in my new surroundings, that doesn't make my present pain any less." But, if we hear the command to rejoice as "rejoice in the Lord," we can say, "Lord, I hurt right now. The end of this pain is nowhere in sight. But I know that you love me, and I know you are in control. Thank you for being so trustworthy, especially when life is difficult."
The difference is, when we are rejoicing in who the Lord is instead of what our circumstances are, we are free to feel our pain. We can be honest about our emotions and don't have to feel guilty for not feeling joyful toward life.
Always?
Surely God doesn't mean always. Because that's impossible.
How can we be expected to rejoice when we're stuck in a job we hate? Or when our kids are sick? Or when our marriage is at an all-time low? Or when the doctor tells us we are infertile? Or when we don't know how we're going to pay the mortgage this month?
How can a reasonable God require us to rejoice in these kinds of circumstances?
I think the answer is He doesn't.
He never calls us to rejoice in circumstances at all. He calls us to rejoice in Him, no matter what our circumstances look like.
I think this distinction is huge. It directly affects how we view God.
Philippians 4:4 reads, "Rejoice in the Lord always."
If we think God wants us to rejoice over the loss of a child or our recent divorce, then we'll see God as sadistic and unfeeling.
But if we think God wants us to rejoice in Him - His goodness and His unfailing love - while we're in the circumstances, then we'll see God as a compassionate Savior and a heroic Redeemer, offering us hope that we don't otherwise have.
Here's how that pans out in reality.
You've just moved to a new town where you have no friends or family to speak of. You are far from home. You feel isolated and depressed as you grieve the friendships you've left. You're hating life right now, loathing each and every minute. And the Lord says rejoice. If we hear this as "rejoice in your situation", we'll say, "There is nothing good about this situation. I am hurting! Even if I try to think positively about all the Lord might have in store for me in my new surroundings, that doesn't make my present pain any less." But, if we hear the command to rejoice as "rejoice in the Lord," we can say, "Lord, I hurt right now. The end of this pain is nowhere in sight. But I know that you love me, and I know you are in control. Thank you for being so trustworthy, especially when life is difficult."
The difference is, when we are rejoicing in who the Lord is instead of what our circumstances are, we are free to feel our pain. We can be honest about our emotions and don't have to feel guilty for not feeling joyful toward life.
4.05.2011
What to Do When You Don't Know What to Do
At least once a week, my three year old, Lexi, asks, "Mommy, when am I gonna get to go to Heaven?" And I say, "I don't know; only God knows that." Her response is always the same, "I wish I could go to Heaven now. I just can't wait to see Jesus!" And my response is always the same, "Me too."
Lexi's desire for Heaven is marked with great excitement and anticipation. She's learned some basic things in her short life - things like God is wonderful; God loves her; God lives in Heaven; Heaven is the most fantastic place ever; and because she's accepted Jesus, God will one day bring her to Heaven. And this knowledge births a beautiful longing in her soul to be there now.
My desire for Heaven is a little more complex than Lexi's is. It is more than just anticipating bliss. In large part, my motivation for Heaven is rooted in my desire for relief from pain. I almost don't even have to have the promise that Heaven will be full of wonderful things; I just need the promise that it will be devoid of painful things. The blissful aspects of Heaven are like a bonus, an extra declaration of God's infinite grace and love. I think I'd choose to go there even if Heaven didn't hold blessings for me, as long as I was sure it didn't hold pain.
What my daughter will one day discover is that life hurts. Relationships break. Bones break. Faith breaks. Pain traverses our hearts, bodies, and souls. And there are times when we just sit down in the mud and say, "I don't know what to do."
Enter Job.
Job loved God. The Bible says Job was, "fearful and upright; he feared God and shunned evil," (Job 1:1). In our language, Job was the equivalent of a real-deal Christian - someone who loves God in words AND actions and whose personal relationship with God thrives. Job was blessed with wealth, a large family, and fame (Job 1:1-3). He was plugging along in life, living out his faith, experiencing blessing for his obedience, and, presumably, loving life.
Then God allowed Job's world to be turned upside down.
Job's wealth was stolen and destroyed (Job 1:13-17); his children all died in a freak accident (Job 1:18-19); he acquired a painful disease (Job 2:7); his wife stopped supporting him (Job 2:8); his friends turned on him, accusing him of being weak in faith (Job 4:6) and even inferring that he was wicked (Job 15:20-35; Job 18:5-21).
How did Job respond?
He wondered why he had even been born (Job 3:11).
He said things like, "I loathe my very life; therefore, I will give free rein to my complaint and speak out in the bitterness of my soul" (Job 10:1), and, "My spirit is broken" (Job 17:1), and, "I cry out to you, God, but you do not answer" (Job 30:20).
In a word, Job despaired. He felt powerless and confused. He didn't know what to do.
So...
He did all he could do - he trusted God. When Job's life fell apart, he fell back on what he knew.
"To God belong wisdom and power; counsel and understanding are his" (Job 12:13).
"I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand upon the earth...and I will see God; I myself will see him with my own eyes" (Job 19:25-27).
"[God] knows the way that I take; when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold" (Job 23:10).
"I know that [God] can do all things; no plan of [his] can be thwarted" (Job 42:2).
When we don't know what to do, we can take a page out of Job's book. We can fall back on what we know is true of God. We can seek comfort from His Word that He knows us, that he's for us, and that, one day, we will see Him face to face.
And, hopefully, this knowledge will give us the strength to take the next breath and press on.
Lexi's desire for Heaven is marked with great excitement and anticipation. She's learned some basic things in her short life - things like God is wonderful; God loves her; God lives in Heaven; Heaven is the most fantastic place ever; and because she's accepted Jesus, God will one day bring her to Heaven. And this knowledge births a beautiful longing in her soul to be there now.
My desire for Heaven is a little more complex than Lexi's is. It is more than just anticipating bliss. In large part, my motivation for Heaven is rooted in my desire for relief from pain. I almost don't even have to have the promise that Heaven will be full of wonderful things; I just need the promise that it will be devoid of painful things. The blissful aspects of Heaven are like a bonus, an extra declaration of God's infinite grace and love. I think I'd choose to go there even if Heaven didn't hold blessings for me, as long as I was sure it didn't hold pain.
What my daughter will one day discover is that life hurts. Relationships break. Bones break. Faith breaks. Pain traverses our hearts, bodies, and souls. And there are times when we just sit down in the mud and say, "I don't know what to do."
Enter Job.
Job loved God. The Bible says Job was, "fearful and upright; he feared God and shunned evil," (Job 1:1). In our language, Job was the equivalent of a real-deal Christian - someone who loves God in words AND actions and whose personal relationship with God thrives. Job was blessed with wealth, a large family, and fame (Job 1:1-3). He was plugging along in life, living out his faith, experiencing blessing for his obedience, and, presumably, loving life.
Then God allowed Job's world to be turned upside down.
Job's wealth was stolen and destroyed (Job 1:13-17); his children all died in a freak accident (Job 1:18-19); he acquired a painful disease (Job 2:7); his wife stopped supporting him (Job 2:8); his friends turned on him, accusing him of being weak in faith (Job 4:6) and even inferring that he was wicked (Job 15:20-35; Job 18:5-21).
How did Job respond?
He wondered why he had even been born (Job 3:11).
He said things like, "I loathe my very life; therefore, I will give free rein to my complaint and speak out in the bitterness of my soul" (Job 10:1), and, "My spirit is broken" (Job 17:1), and, "I cry out to you, God, but you do not answer" (Job 30:20).
In a word, Job despaired. He felt powerless and confused. He didn't know what to do.
So...
He did all he could do - he trusted God. When Job's life fell apart, he fell back on what he knew.
"To God belong wisdom and power; counsel and understanding are his" (Job 12:13).
"I know that my Redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand upon the earth...and I will see God; I myself will see him with my own eyes" (Job 19:25-27).
"[God] knows the way that I take; when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold" (Job 23:10).
"I know that [God] can do all things; no plan of [his] can be thwarted" (Job 42:2).
When we don't know what to do, we can take a page out of Job's book. We can fall back on what we know is true of God. We can seek comfort from His Word that He knows us, that he's for us, and that, one day, we will see Him face to face.
And, hopefully, this knowledge will give us the strength to take the next breath and press on.
3.25.2011
What Do You REALLY Want?
Most of the time, when God is trying to teach me something by allowing me to experience pain, I sit around and complain. I tell Him that I hate what He's doing, and I want Him to stop. I tell Him I want out of whatever particular circumstance is grieving me at the moment.
And He reminds me that the point of the pain is to help me rely on Him more, know Him better, and, ultimately, reflect Christ more accurately to others.
So I stop complaining.
Well, not entirely.
I still complain, I just change it up a bit. Instead of telling God to end my painful situation, I tell Him to speed it up. Just get me through it as fast as possible. Help me to learn whatever it is I need to learn so the pain can end. Fast forward this bad boy, and get me to the happily ever after.
And then I get convicted.
I am desiring comfort and relief more than I am desiring to know Christ better. I would rather feel good now than walk the long, hard road that leads to an unbelievably satisfying relationship with the Lover of my soul.
There was a guy in the Bible just like me. He asked Jesus what he had to do to get eternal life. And knowing that the man's sense of security and comfort was in his great wealth, Jesus told him he had to sell everything he owned, give the money he made to the poor, and come follow Jesus (Matthew 19:16-22).
Jesus wasn't just trying to promote humanitarianism in this story. He was trying to illustrate in a tangible way that unless we are willing to give up everything that makes us comfortable to know Jesus more deeply, we need to seriously consider whether we actually love Jesus as much as we like to say we do.
After Jesus told the rich man what he had to do to get eternal life, the Bible says, "the man went away sad because he had great wealth," (Matthew 19:22). The man wanted eternal life, but not enough to give up his money.
How would you complete this sentence:
I want a deeper relationship with Jesus, but not enough to give up __________________.
Whatever you put in that blank is an idol. The rich man was sold out to his money. And it was his god.
I find it interesting that the man didn't walk away feeling justified or confident that he had made the right decision. No, he was sad. He knew in his heart that he was missing out on something wonderful. But he just couldn't get it through his thick skull.
His worldly logic failed him.
He kept his money. He desired comfort and familiarity over Jesus. And he lost his soul.
When we find ourselves in the middle of a painful situation, we can pursue comfort, or we can pursue Jesus.
Comfort is temporary.
Jesus is forever.
And He reminds me that the point of the pain is to help me rely on Him more, know Him better, and, ultimately, reflect Christ more accurately to others.
So I stop complaining.
Well, not entirely.
I still complain, I just change it up a bit. Instead of telling God to end my painful situation, I tell Him to speed it up. Just get me through it as fast as possible. Help me to learn whatever it is I need to learn so the pain can end. Fast forward this bad boy, and get me to the happily ever after.
And then I get convicted.
I am desiring comfort and relief more than I am desiring to know Christ better. I would rather feel good now than walk the long, hard road that leads to an unbelievably satisfying relationship with the Lover of my soul.
There was a guy in the Bible just like me. He asked Jesus what he had to do to get eternal life. And knowing that the man's sense of security and comfort was in his great wealth, Jesus told him he had to sell everything he owned, give the money he made to the poor, and come follow Jesus (Matthew 19:16-22).
Jesus wasn't just trying to promote humanitarianism in this story. He was trying to illustrate in a tangible way that unless we are willing to give up everything that makes us comfortable to know Jesus more deeply, we need to seriously consider whether we actually love Jesus as much as we like to say we do.
After Jesus told the rich man what he had to do to get eternal life, the Bible says, "the man went away sad because he had great wealth," (Matthew 19:22). The man wanted eternal life, but not enough to give up his money.
How would you complete this sentence:
I want a deeper relationship with Jesus, but not enough to give up __________________.
Whatever you put in that blank is an idol. The rich man was sold out to his money. And it was his god.
I find it interesting that the man didn't walk away feeling justified or confident that he had made the right decision. No, he was sad. He knew in his heart that he was missing out on something wonderful. But he just couldn't get it through his thick skull.
His worldly logic failed him.
He kept his money. He desired comfort and familiarity over Jesus. And he lost his soul.
When we find ourselves in the middle of a painful situation, we can pursue comfort, or we can pursue Jesus.
Comfort is temporary.
Jesus is forever.
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