And even if not...




I wake up bleary-eyed and despondent: my friend is hurting, and there is nothing anyone can do about it. I pray, I struggle and later the questions pour out into an angst-ridden email: "Is life just way more painful than I've ever really contemplated? Is the only response we have left to lower your expectations and cling to the cross and the painful mystery of 'suffering now, glory later?' Because that is hard. That is so much harder than I ever thought."

The answer comes back, wise and gentle: "You are probably on to something Cat, life is worse than we think, but it is also more amazing." I go for a walk by the river, and I'm humbled. What do I think clinging to the cross means if not opening my eyes to God's strange yet wonderful scheduling? The cross can never be the end. Redemption is coming - invisible, utterly unlikely, but coming. 

God is good. And he often delivers us from trouble. But even if he does not (Daniel 3), that doesn't change who he is: it's that the scale of what he is up to is bigger - way bigger -  than what we can see. We want shopping list deliverance. Quick fixes. Instant relief. He is writing a different story - one with blessings deeper than the ones we think we need that will spill over into untold blessings for others. That knowledge is the only thing that can make you brave enough to falteringly point your feet in the direction of a burning furnace. Brave enough to be willing to be seen to be weak. So that He can be seen through us. 

I am privileged that I have friends who live this where it counts. I know what courage looks like because of you. 

I'm thankful for you and I'm thankful for Jesus who is our promise that "this thing is not going to break you."

You could not plan for this
No, there was no silhouette
Up against the pink horizon
To warn you of the hit
But you absorbed it all with grace
Like a child you spoke of faith unmoved
That holds onto you

This thing is going to try to break you
But it doesn’t have to
You’re showing us how
This thing is going to bend and shape you
But He won’t let it take you
You know it somehow
This thing is not going to break you

You  could take your loss
You could hide away from us
With your grief lassoed around you
But you’re laying it in the sun
And you stare straight into the light
You say you’d rather go blind than look away
What can I say?

This thing is going to try to break you
But it doesn’t have to
You’re showing us how
This thing is going to bend and shape you
But He won’t let it take you
You know it somehow
This thing is not going to break you
This thing is not going to break you
This thing is not going to break you

Christa Wells (2013)




Comments

Popular Posts