There’s just so much, isn’t there?
Crushing headlines. Unwelcome change. Personal tragedies. Conflicting stories. Unanswerable questions.
Some days, my mind aches and my words disappear.
Then a song like Lauren Daigle’s “Trust in You” comes on the radio and promptly becomes the cry of my heart.
Again and again and again.
When my college roommate Rachel called to tell me her family would be traveling through the area and would love to stop by for an overnight visit, the first question that popped into my mind was what I would serve them for supper.
I realize that other things besides menu planning really should dominate your thinking when one of your dearest friends makes such an announcement. But when said friend is bringing her husband and six energetic children with her, figuring out what to eat is a top priority.
I was getting ready one morning, a few days before a weekend event that required me to be at full strength, when I lost my right contact lens.
I can’t see a thing without eye correction. I have fairly new glasses, and I wear them at home at night. But I chose the frames rather hurriedly and always wished I had picked a different pair. I’d certainly never wear them to a public function that involved a lot of personal interaction, at least not voluntarily.
I wasn’t yet 30 when I was forced to accept the fact that my so-called child-bearing years were over. Randy and I had spent three years trying to get pregnant, to no avail, and we had good reason to believe that any further attempts also would be futile.
We were at peace with our decision to leave the infertility roller coaster behind and move forward with adoption, but I still longed for spiritual closure. I didn’t want to parent my future children with one part of my heart still hoping for a “miracle baby.” I wanted to be all-in with God’s unfolding plan for our family.
This process actually began while we were still trying to conceive, with encouragement coming from a couple of rather unlikely sources.
I was in the shower one day, thinking about how the Bible says that Jesus can empathize with all our weaknesses because He knows “exactly how it feels to be human” (see Hebrews 4:15 in the Amplified Bible.) But Jesus wasn’t a woman, so how could He possibly relate to the grief associated with not being able to conceive a baby? He never had biological children, so perhaps He could relate a little bit. But could He really understand?
Then it hit me. I was focusing on the end result, not the process. Even though my infertility had a known physical cause, my basic problem was a spiritual one: God had responded to my prayers for a baby with a resounding no.
That’s where I found my assurance that Jesus really did understand what I was going through. He wasn’t a woman, so He didn’t have my hormonal makeup and reproductive equipment. But at one point in His life—at the most pivotal crossroads a human being could ever imagine—He too got a big fat no from God.
When Jesus was in the Garden of Gethsemane before His arrest and crucifixion, He asked God for another way three times. And all three times, God said no.
Think about the ramifications of God’s answer. We’re not talking about the disappointment of an unfulfilled dream here. We’re talking about the inexpressible anguish of being separated from the presence of God after an eternity of togetherness.
We’re talking about the relentless agony of having your heavenly Father turn His back on you. We’re talking about the excruciating pain of bearing the punishment for the sins of the world.
Does Jesus understand how it feels when God says no? Absolutely. He’s not some comforter wanna-be who would really like to empathize with people but can’t because he never had cancer, never lost a loved one or never battled depression. The Bible explicitly says He’s a “man of sorrows and acquainted with grief” who has “borne our griefs and carried our sorrows” (see Isaiah 53:3-4).
Knowing that Jesus willingly accepted a no from God, despite the pain it involved, was a tremendous encouragement to me as I slowly released my grip on my dream for a pregnancy.
But Christ’s example wasn’t the only scriptural model that helped me come to spiritual closure, both in that situation as well as ones that came later. The second person was someone who, like me, had an intense desire to do something good and honorable but couldn’t fulfill his dream because God said no.
I’m talking about David, the king of Israel. This man after God’s own heart wanted to build a temple where his countrymen could worship God. But because he had fought in many wars and shed much blood, God would not allow him to construct the structure (see 1 Chronicles 22:7-8).
On the surface, this really doesn’t seem fair. David wasn’t waging war out of some sadistic need to destroy people. He was carrying out God’s plan to defeat Israel’s enemies. In a way, it was his obedience that kept him from building the temple.
I imagine that David was extremely disappointed that he could not oversee this impressive construction project. He might have even been very upset about it at first.
But he didn’t dwell on it. He accepted God’s decree, and he devoted his final years to making “extensive preparations” to ensure that his son Solomon would be able to build a temple for the Lord that would be “of great magnificence and fame and splendor in the sight of all the nations” (1 Chronicles 22:5).
David didn’t just organize the materials, however. He also ordered all of Israel’s leaders to help Solomon. He did everything in his power to make sure the project was a success, no matter who completed it. He was more concerned about giving God glory than he was about adding an impressive accomplishment to his own resume.
Instead of getting bitter, he made the best of a disappointing situation. He didn’t try to forge ahead and build a temple on his own. He obeyed God, and his obedience allowed his son to construct a glorious temple.
In the aftermath of great disappointment, David chose to be selfless. Because he realized it wasn’t all about him, he was able to move on—graciously and helpfully.
No matter the situation, that’s how I want to respond when God says no.
Graciously and helpfully.
♥ Lois
I have a confession to make. When it comes to faith, I find it a bit easier to trust God in the midst of my own struggles than it is to wait on Him to come to the rescue of someone I love.
I don’t know why this is, or if there are others who feel this same way. I just know I’m feeling it deeply right now.
I don’t like to wait. I look up movie spoilers in the middle of the show. I always read the end of the book first.
Maybe it’s a control issue. Maybe it’s a trust issue.
Or maybe I’m just a finite human being who longs for a happy ending—and an easy way to get there.
I can’t make God answer my prayers in the way I want, when I want. I can’t force an outcome.
I’d like to, but I can’t.
I also can’t make other people respond how I might respond—or how I think I might respond—to any given trial. While God offers only one way to salvation, He relates to each mind and heart in a unique way, much like any other loving parent interacts with his or her children individually.
God’s plans for each of us are for our good—I truly believe that. Not in a cliche, pat-answer kind of way, but deep down—in that place where I trust His sovereignty even when the plans He unfolds don’t make any sense to me and might even seem to be the opposite of good.
I believe this, but as time drags on and nothing changes—at least nothing that’s readily apparent—I sometimes wonder.
What’s taking so long? What’s the point of all this? Is healing ever going to come?
I may be misinterpreting my own motivations here, but I honestly don’t think these questions stem from doubt or a lack of faith. They’re based on feelings, which are fickle. They ebb and flow, depending on all kinds of internal and external stimuli.
My faith, on the other hand, is based on a relationship with God, which is eternal. I believe every word of Jeremiah 32:17: “Ah, Sovereign Lord, you have made the heavens and the earth by your great power and outstretched arm. Nothing is too hard for you.”
I know God could remedy in an instant the situations in which my loved ones find themselves. When He doesn’t, it makes me sad to see them struggling or suffering. To feel otherwise would be somewhat less than human, I think.
And sadness does not indicate an absence or lack of faith. Faith has nothing to do with feelings, in fact. According to Hebrews 11:1, it’s “being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.”
I can’t see what’s going on behind the curtain, but I know there’s not a fake wizard back there. I believe that the God who is working in the lives of my loved ones is the same God who was with Jeremiah and all the other Old Testament prophets—the very same ones who wondered when God was going to act and yet wrote so eloquently about His compassion, protection, mercy and justice.
So while I keep praying for Him to move, my hope remains this: that “the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Christ Jesus, will personally restore, establish, strengthen, and support you after you have suffered a little.” (1 Peter 5:10)
♥ Lois
I can’t make God answer my prayers in the way I want, when I want. I can’t force an outcome. Share on X
Choosing “fruit” as my One Word for 2015 was a game changer for me.
My daily practice of praying for the fruit of the Spirit to grow in the hearts of every person in my house ushered in an acute awareness of how these lovely character traits function (or not) in my own life. It was convicting, to say the least, but also inspiring to see how God answered those prayers throughout the year.
When the time came to choose a new word for 2016, I thought about zeroing in on a single piece of the fruit of the Spirit. I still have room for improvement with all nine—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control—so I could hardly go wrong with any of them.
Even as I was mulling over these attributes, though, the word “satisfied” kept popping up. I dismissed it at first, because it didn’t seem all that relevant. I’m generally pretty content, and I wanted a word with more immediate application to my life.
Then the month of December wore on and I became increasingly frustrated (some might say obsessed) with relatively insignificant things that normally don’t bother me.
My hair (mostly my inability to find an affordable stylist who can cut it exactly how I want it, every time). Finding the perfect sweater/top/tunic for special Christmas events. The way the pounds seem to be redistributing themselves on my middle-aged body. My ever-increasing reliance on my reading glasses.
Shallow, I know. But after devoting an entire morning to fretting about the aforementioned hair issue, I realized that maybe I’m not as content as I thought.
The Song of the Month I shared a few days ago sealed the deal. After listening to Jordan Feliz sing this moving ballad a half a dozen times, I knew.
My One Word for 2016 had to be “satisfied.”
Notice I didn’t say “self-satisfied.” My word has nothing to do with being complacent, lackadaisical or smug.
It’s all about contentment—not with the clothes I wear, what I look like, what anyone else does (or doesn’t do) or what I’m able to accomplish, but in God alone. Expressed in verse form, it looks like this:
“Who do I have in heaven but You? And I desire nothing on earth but You. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart, my portion forever.” (Psalm 73:25-26)
When this kind of satisfaction infiltrates my world, I can rejoice more easily with those who rejoice. I can wait prayerfully for God to open doors instead of trying to drum up opportunities on my own.
I can embrace whatever season I’m in without longing for the good old days or wishing for some ideal future scenario. I can do my best with the gifts God has given me and trust that He will use my efforts for His glory—no matter the size or scope of the outcome.
I want all this to be true in my life, but I can’t make it happen on my own. So Psalm 90:14 is now my daily prayer—for me and for the others in my home:
“Satisfy us in the morning with Your faithful love so that we may shout with joy and be glad all our days.”
No matter the season, no matter the circumstances, no matter the struggle, He is enough.
Only by His grace can I live like I truly believe this.
And only then will my soul be satisfied.
♥ Lois