Hope and reassurance
I know God's goodness and blessings. I've watched them unfold. They're real. I'm deeply questioning if He really holds our hearts close to Him. Is He really working for our good? Are we really going to prosper? The past two weeks have been a battle between what I know in my head and what my heart is crying for. What am I so afraid of? Why do I fear my God's abandonment after all His provision? This is the darkest and most frightening part of our path so far. God's character is not frightening. The state of my heart is. How broken must a heart be to ask these questions?
We happen to be going through Hebrews in my flock at church. We've made it to Hebrews 11.
"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. 2 For by it the people of old received their commendation. 3 By faith we understand that the universe was created by the word of God, so that what is seen was not made out of things that are visible."
We've been called to a daunting task. The task of trusting the One who controls what we can't see. Although this is a very commonly known verse, it has massive connotations. It's totally opposite of our nature. As a believer I know our ending brings the ultimate hope. But what about this life in the meantime? We SO want to know the closing of the story! Does it bring demise? Does it bring joy? Does it bring relief? Truthfully, God has ultimately spared me from sight of the future. If God made our lives predictable, He wouldn't be our Author. If we could understand, He wouldn't be our great Teacher. If we knew the unveiling, He wouldn't be the Artist. He simply wouldn't be God.
After I've seen the "proof" in ways the Lord has come through on our behalf I still want further proof that He is good, proof that this will end well, something hopeful to cling to in the midst of the mess. This desire makes me incredibly aware of how tiny my grasp is and how vast God is. The simple and minuscule have become massive because that's how little control we have. I am a mere human being. We just want to see a dream come true. We just want to hear this one thing. We just want to touch the one we miss or long for. We just have this craving or thirst. We miss that one scent that takes us back to a fond memory. In summary, all we can honestly see is what we're in the middle of and our pleadings are small.
There is too much garbage out there telling us we hold our destiny. We always wonder why these little bandaids leave us empty and hurting. The illusion of sight or "control" of the future offers surface value. He has given us His character, His Son, and His Word as an offering of hope, not sight. God has given us the freedom to make a choice that can ultimately affect our hearts in the overall outcome. I can determine my response. I reached a moment where I had to alter my choices this last week.
I've recently gotten to join in fellowship with some new friends. They range from single, to newly married, to married with kids. The variety is refreshing. We can all pleasantly coexist in vastly different life phases.
Ryan has been exhausted and hasn't been able to join in fellowship with these friends. Something we've found is that he greatly struggles in groups. He becomes very agitated and frustrated with himself because he can't seem to follow more than one conversation anymore. It's a new limitation and, sadly, I'm relieved that I have something to myself. This time has become an escape from the daily struggles with Ryan.
Recently, we went around in a circle and used one word to describe how we were doing and further elaborated on it. It was somewhat profound. As I listened to people share, it was shocking that they're all in a similar place as myself. It was thoroughly humbling and convicting. Maybe not similar in circumstance, but so many are trying or struggling to find contentment with where they are at in life. Waiting is a hard, disheartening place to be. It ranged anywhere from being in stressful job situations that are stealing time from their family, waiting for a professional job to turn up after years of investing in further education, or waiting to be called abroad for full time mission work. So many of us seem to be in this waiting or transition phase.
I kept thinking about how much promise and hope these people do have. They deeply love their spouses and their physical mannerisms with each other show it so clearly and innocently. Some have children. Parenthood is the most exhausting, rewarding, nurturing thing we could be called to do. Jobs, money, and missions are indeed important, but these people have the "big" stuff going for them, the things that matter most. Each other. I began feeling pitiful for myself. These people have what I long for. These people have what I'm losing grasp of.
As I lifted these people up in prayer, God, clear as day, reminded me that there is hope for me too and that there is a whole book full of His promises to me in my hands. He broke me...hard. I've spent too much time waiting. Either waiting for something as simple as the day to end all the way to waiting for Ryan to win this battle and meet Jesus. Just like everyone else, I'm waiting for life to move forward. I'm sick of the circle.
I know the day draws near. Life won't always be this way. Differing from my last entry, I'm reassured it's not my hope talking. I have this restlessness in me that the Lord will end the battle. I don't know when. I don't know how. I just know. This knowledge has turned my days into getting through. Last night really helped me to re-evaluate what I want these last times with Ryan to be like. I deeply desire to remember the best of Ryan, not this valley we're in. I desperately want my heart to be intact. This is where my choice and response comes in. I will miss him. Heck, I already miss him. I miss what was. I miss what could have been. But I have to believe that he won't be an incomplete work when he's called home. I have to believe that his life will be a life filled to it's entirety. To believe this, there must be less time spent in wanting and more time spent in living with what we have. By living, I mean really soaking in even the smallest of moments.
Yesterday Ryan and I were planting flowers and bushes out in the rain and mud. Ryan was getting really agitated because he couldn't find his gloves and didn't want to dig his hands in the soaking wet soil. At first, I decided to condescend him by promptly scooping up a handful of mud, making a fist, and squeezing it between my fingers, proving my point that he was behaving more like a princess than his own wife. I decided to prolong his suffering by demanding his help to plant flower seeds in my front porch pots. In doing this, we had a rare moment. It was amazing. We actually enjoyed each other. He helped pour the bag of soil in the pots while I rearranged and planted the seeds. He kept spilling the soil he didn't want to touch and my condescending turned into lighthearted teasing. There we were laughing and planting things that will grow into something beautiful over time. How perfect and harmonious.
Here I've been clinging to the ending. Anything less than the relief of an ending wasn't enough. Yet the Lord is giving me just enough to sustain for right now. He's not giving me enough to help me live comfortably. He's giving me all I need. These are moments to remember and be thankful for, and more time spent in the awareness of these moments are what will bring us to our fulfillment. God wants that fulfillment to be beautiful and masterful. One peaceful moment has to outweigh thousands of the bad ones.
We happen to be going through Hebrews in my flock at church. We've made it to Hebrews 11.
"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. 2 For by it the people of old received their commendation. 3 By faith we understand that the universe was created by the word of God, so that what is seen was not made out of things that are visible."
We've been called to a daunting task. The task of trusting the One who controls what we can't see. Although this is a very commonly known verse, it has massive connotations. It's totally opposite of our nature. As a believer I know our ending brings the ultimate hope. But what about this life in the meantime? We SO want to know the closing of the story! Does it bring demise? Does it bring joy? Does it bring relief? Truthfully, God has ultimately spared me from sight of the future. If God made our lives predictable, He wouldn't be our Author. If we could understand, He wouldn't be our great Teacher. If we knew the unveiling, He wouldn't be the Artist. He simply wouldn't be God.
After I've seen the "proof" in ways the Lord has come through on our behalf I still want further proof that He is good, proof that this will end well, something hopeful to cling to in the midst of the mess. This desire makes me incredibly aware of how tiny my grasp is and how vast God is. The simple and minuscule have become massive because that's how little control we have. I am a mere human being. We just want to see a dream come true. We just want to hear this one thing. We just want to touch the one we miss or long for. We just have this craving or thirst. We miss that one scent that takes us back to a fond memory. In summary, all we can honestly see is what we're in the middle of and our pleadings are small.
There is too much garbage out there telling us we hold our destiny. We always wonder why these little bandaids leave us empty and hurting. The illusion of sight or "control" of the future offers surface value. He has given us His character, His Son, and His Word as an offering of hope, not sight. God has given us the freedom to make a choice that can ultimately affect our hearts in the overall outcome. I can determine my response. I reached a moment where I had to alter my choices this last week.
I've recently gotten to join in fellowship with some new friends. They range from single, to newly married, to married with kids. The variety is refreshing. We can all pleasantly coexist in vastly different life phases.
Ryan has been exhausted and hasn't been able to join in fellowship with these friends. Something we've found is that he greatly struggles in groups. He becomes very agitated and frustrated with himself because he can't seem to follow more than one conversation anymore. It's a new limitation and, sadly, I'm relieved that I have something to myself. This time has become an escape from the daily struggles with Ryan.
Recently, we went around in a circle and used one word to describe how we were doing and further elaborated on it. It was somewhat profound. As I listened to people share, it was shocking that they're all in a similar place as myself. It was thoroughly humbling and convicting. Maybe not similar in circumstance, but so many are trying or struggling to find contentment with where they are at in life. Waiting is a hard, disheartening place to be. It ranged anywhere from being in stressful job situations that are stealing time from their family, waiting for a professional job to turn up after years of investing in further education, or waiting to be called abroad for full time mission work. So many of us seem to be in this waiting or transition phase.
I kept thinking about how much promise and hope these people do have. They deeply love their spouses and their physical mannerisms with each other show it so clearly and innocently. Some have children. Parenthood is the most exhausting, rewarding, nurturing thing we could be called to do. Jobs, money, and missions are indeed important, but these people have the "big" stuff going for them, the things that matter most. Each other. I began feeling pitiful for myself. These people have what I long for. These people have what I'm losing grasp of.
As I lifted these people up in prayer, God, clear as day, reminded me that there is hope for me too and that there is a whole book full of His promises to me in my hands. He broke me...hard. I've spent too much time waiting. Either waiting for something as simple as the day to end all the way to waiting for Ryan to win this battle and meet Jesus. Just like everyone else, I'm waiting for life to move forward. I'm sick of the circle.
I know the day draws near. Life won't always be this way. Differing from my last entry, I'm reassured it's not my hope talking. I have this restlessness in me that the Lord will end the battle. I don't know when. I don't know how. I just know. This knowledge has turned my days into getting through. Last night really helped me to re-evaluate what I want these last times with Ryan to be like. I deeply desire to remember the best of Ryan, not this valley we're in. I desperately want my heart to be intact. This is where my choice and response comes in. I will miss him. Heck, I already miss him. I miss what was. I miss what could have been. But I have to believe that he won't be an incomplete work when he's called home. I have to believe that his life will be a life filled to it's entirety. To believe this, there must be less time spent in wanting and more time spent in living with what we have. By living, I mean really soaking in even the smallest of moments.
Yesterday Ryan and I were planting flowers and bushes out in the rain and mud. Ryan was getting really agitated because he couldn't find his gloves and didn't want to dig his hands in the soaking wet soil. At first, I decided to condescend him by promptly scooping up a handful of mud, making a fist, and squeezing it between my fingers, proving my point that he was behaving more like a princess than his own wife. I decided to prolong his suffering by demanding his help to plant flower seeds in my front porch pots. In doing this, we had a rare moment. It was amazing. We actually enjoyed each other. He helped pour the bag of soil in the pots while I rearranged and planted the seeds. He kept spilling the soil he didn't want to touch and my condescending turned into lighthearted teasing. There we were laughing and planting things that will grow into something beautiful over time. How perfect and harmonious.
Here I've been clinging to the ending. Anything less than the relief of an ending wasn't enough. Yet the Lord is giving me just enough to sustain for right now. He's not giving me enough to help me live comfortably. He's giving me all I need. These are moments to remember and be thankful for, and more time spent in the awareness of these moments are what will bring us to our fulfillment. God wants that fulfillment to be beautiful and masterful. One peaceful moment has to outweigh thousands of the bad ones.
Copyright 2014 ->Renee Sunberg
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