storiesofvalue

Chapter 14 – The Conversation of Faith

My #2 Pencil Faith illustration grew out of a need to calm the nerves of people I met whose walk with the Lord had come to an impasse.  Some feared their faith was slipping away, and even more that God was angry with them for their failure to stand up under their circumstances.

When I talk with people going through a trial, I am amazed by how quickly they digress to a work-based faith.  I am not talking about the more familiar error of salvation by works, but rather the idea that faith itself is a work.  I watch this notion emerge when people try to discern why God hasn’t answered their prayers as they had hoped.  They suppose it is because they lack enough faith, which leads them to wonder how much more faith they might need to gain God’s favor.  Exactly how more faith can be acquired is a mystery to them.  Perhaps if they worship more, pray with greater fervor, or do some good deed God will answer.  While these are not bad activities, they do not necessarily produce more faith.  As a matter of fact, they might produce the exact opposite.

If life is a journey and faith a learning experience, then our conversation of faith must be seen as a novel, not a cliché slapped on a bumper sticker or trinket we purchase at our local Christian bookstore.  As well, faith itself must be linked to our relationship with Jesus, and never seen as a badge of individual achievement.

How do we grow in faith?  What did the disciples lack in their fishing boat that caused Jesus to be critical, and how were they supposed to fix the problem?  If they needed to do some good thing in their lives, surely Jesus would have told them.  But He actually gave them very little in the way of instruction, except to confront their faith.  How then does faith grow?

Faith is trust.  Therefore, for faith to grow, we must be more open to God’s leading, and more willing to accept His will in our lives. This means the sign of a maturing faith is not the quick resolution of our circumstances, but rather God’s growing influence in our lives as we trust Him to use us for His glory.  The problem with the disciples in the boat wasn’t that they hadn’t done enough for God, but rather that they forgot what God was willing and able to do for them.

Faith is nurtured when we fill our minds with God’s Word, and walk without pretense.  Heroes of faith learn to care less about the earthly outcome of their own lives, but focus more on God’s kingdom and the working out of His eternal plan.

I hurt for people who agonize over perceived deficiencies in their faith which they believed to be responsible for the death of a loved one, or some other tragedy.  I tell them trials are not necessarily a sign that one lacks faith, but rather an opportunity to exercise greater faith.  I also remind them the greatest servants of faith throughout history are those God challenged to take big steps of faith, often resulting in pain, or death.

This means our conversation of faith should not be about what God has done for us because of our faith, but rather what we are learning about God, and whether or not we are willing to go where He leads us.  This approach changes everything.  We are finally able to release ourselves of unwarranted guilt and move forward with a childlike trust, discovering the unique path God has set before us.  We are less likely to evaluate ourselves by the story God is writing in others’ lives, and we are not so easily shaken by fear and doubt.  We simply choose to follow, no matter what, and to wait and watch as God reveals His infinite wisdom.

Once we break our obsession with works-based faith, we are free to grow in trust, even in the midst of the most difficult circumstances.  Instead of holding a grudge against God because He didn’t reward our faith, we crack the door to our hearts and let his love and grace pour in.  We still want to know the answer to the question “why?” but are willing to learn as we wait.  We can also accept the fact we may never have all of the answers we seek.  God grants us the freedom to cry out, to grieve and to take our time.  He puts the pieces of our lives back together in new and beautiful ways.

As Jesus lay in the tomb, the disciples huddled together, fearing for their lives. Although they had walked with Jesus for three years and had been told He would die and rise again, the truth of the resurrection was still cloudy in their minds.  They were afraid, and one of them, Thomas was filled with doubt.  Even Peter, the one who confessed, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God” (Matthew 16:16) was crushed by Jesus death and personal failure.  The reality of Peter’s confession had not changed, but the delusion of defeat left the disciples in limbo.

Mary Magdalene wanted to know where the gardener had hid her Savior’s body.  She saw Him, but she didn’t see.  The other women delivered the angels’ message to the disciples, but they didn’t believe.  Then the two on the road to Emmaus spoke to a traveler about the events that had just taken place in Jerusalem.  They saw, but only for a moment.  And it was these two who told the traveler, “Then some of our companions went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said, but him they did not see.” (Luke 24:24)

“But him they did not see”.  The very ones who had followed Jesus as the Son of God struggled to embrace the resurrection.  Perhaps they still viewed his mission through the prism of politics.  Or maybe they speculated, “Can the dead raise the dead?”  What they needed most was a burst of growth in faith; an infusion of new possibilities!  Later, they saw the Lord with their own eyes and the resurrection took its place among the foundational truths of their gospel.

It is hard to believe anything we have yet to discover will equal or rise above Jesus crucified, buried and raised.  We do, however, have many things to learn, and every new lesson deepens our faith.  A growing faith is more likely to consider unseen possibilities than be shaken by unresolved circumstances.  Trust expands our vision of what God might do, and teaches us patience as He works out the details of our lives.  While we still ask many things of God, our prayers are more focused on learning His will than imposing ours.  As we align our hearts with His, we see His hand more.  We still face disappointments and frustrations, but our maturing faith gives us a broader context within which to navigate.  What we once thought was a contractual arrangement of works and reward becomes instead a journey.

Chapter 13 – Challenging the Delusion

We return now to our original framework for the #2 Pencil Faith.  In way of review, the two outer pencils of our metaphor represent the full spectrum of our faith.  Within this framework are the certainties we stand on.  These involve the things God has told us about Himself through His Word and the validation of that Word through our human experience.  Alongside these certainties are our fears and doubts.  Though we all have them, and should forever seek a resolution, we choose to tolerate their existence in order to journey forward.

As I have shared, I estimate those things I am certain of at 80% of my faith and my fears and doubts, the remaining 20%.   A sliding pencil in the middle of the metaphor marks this dividing line (Figure 3).  I should qualify, when I speak of my certainties I do not mean to suggest I know 80% of everything there is to know about God, but rather that this portion of my journey contains the foundational principles of my confidence.

The middle pencil is a fragile reference point that defines my present reality.  When I am in the midst of an unfortunate crisis and Satan kindles the fires of fear and doubt, my point of reference shifts, pressing against my certainties.  Here I wonder if the things I don’t understand about God are bigger than the things of which I am certain.  The prospect of spiritual disaster threatens my peace.

But this is a delusion.  In reality I am certain of much more than is evident at the moment, and my fears and doubts are not nearly as imposing as they appear.  The basic premises upon which my faith is built have not changed.  I am merely challenged to consider the immensity of God’s divine option as I seek to understand how He might be working in a way yet unknown to me.  This is how faith grows: by watching God work in new ways as He proves the precept of the angel Gabriel to Mary that with Him, “Nothing is impossible”!

Our struggles are where Satan digs in his heels to perpetuate the delusion.  He attacks our confidence with feelings of inequality, and prompts us to cut off communication with God, to move too fast, or to pretend we are someone we are not.  If we practice patience and remember God loves us in spite of our momentary confusion, we can withstand the Deceiver’s efforts to undermine our faith.  In fact, the very things He uses to destroy us can be turned against him.  Fear and doubt only drive us deeper into the mind and heart of God, shoring up our certainties and allowing His glory to be seen in our lives.  The Apostle Paul gave witness to this dynamic when he wrote, “Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me” (2 Cor. 12:9).

The delusion seeks to define our faith, but God comes to our rescue to confront our blindness.  This is how He saved Job through the whirlwind when he proclaimed, “Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge?” (Job 38:2).  God reviewed His creation record to impress upon Job the complexity of His genius.  Crushed by these word pictures Job exclaimed, “Well, shut my mouth!”  Actually, he said, “I am unworthy–how can I reply to you?  I put my hand over my mouth” (Job 40:4).

Growing in our faith is the process of learning more about God, His will and His ways.  It involves a child-like trust that waits on Him to reveal His glory.  This is how Jesus’ disciples matured in their time with Him on earth.  It seems they lived in a constant state of fear and doubt, but as they learned the way of the cross their pride was supplanted with humility.  Only then were they able to forget their own strength and catch a glimpse of the Father’s incomprehensible power.

On the stormy sea the disciples cried out to their sleeping Savior, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?” (Mark 4:38) Jesus rose and spoke: “Quiet, Be still!” And the storm ceased. Jesus asked the disciples, “Do you still have no faith?”  They answered, “Who is this?  Even the winds and the waves obey him.”

How strange.  The disciples trusted Jesus enough to leave their old lives behind and follow Him.  Yet, their faith was still shallow.  That day on the sea they witnessed God’s infinite, immeasurable power in the person of His Son, and their spiritual eyes were wide with wonder.  In the future their certainty would grow, and their faith would no longer be subject to the wind and the waves.

God’s revelation of Himself is our greatest weapon against delusion.  Satan wants to keep us in spiritual darkness where He impairs our view of God.  He terrorizes us with past failures, and encircles us with lies.  If we remain imprisoned by his storyline our doubt becomes our shackle and fear our chains.  But when we see God move in new ways, we are reminded we have much to learn.  As Jesus reassured the adulterous woman, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life” (John 8:12).

Trust deepens and our delusions weaken.  We meditate on the tapestry of God’s divine wisdom and chip away at Satan’s destructive logic.  The assurance of the Lord’s abiding grace gives us space to contend and adjust, which makes it very difficult for Satan to exploit our anxieties.  Evil is outflanked by truth!  This doesn’t mean our battle will be easy, or painless.  Yet, holy blood has already been shed at Calvary, and the victory won there makes our victory certain here.  The delusion has been exposed and no longer has mastery over us.

Chapter 12 – Cheaters Never Win

“Keep your eyes on your own paper!” So goes the final instruction before a test, and every student understands the consequences of failing to heed them.  Sometimes teachers add a little philosophy to their warning: “If you cheat you are only cheating yourself.”

To be honest, the fear of getting caught always frightened me most.  When I was young I wasn’t worried about having to apologize to myself.  But as I have aged, I have come to appreciate this wisdom, especially as it applies to life’s trials.

We cheat when we compare our circumstances and God’s response to others.  In so doing, we risk damaging our relationship with God and inhibiting our spiritual growth.  Yet we do it.  We can’t help but wonder why others have fewer trials, lesser trials, and shorter trials, and why they sometimes seem to tolerate them better than we do.

The problem with these kinds of comparisons is they frequently overlook the unique story God is writing in each of our lives.  Our test sheets are one-of-a-kind.  God teaches us with the same truth, but we apply what we learn through the filter of our personal calling.  Some share their struggles openly and look for opportunities to counsel others.  A few find less revealing ways to pass along the grace they have found, perhaps with simple acts of kindness.  Our wounds and healing processes differ and we shouldn’t be anxious if we think we are failing in our response.  God’s grace and comfort are available to all, but His work in our individual lives is distinct.

People cheat to meet expectations.  They are driven to bad choices by the opinions of others and their personal dreams.  There is no good excuse for cheating, but most of us understand the power of the human desire to succeed.  This is no less true in the spiritual realm where we are reluctant to admit there is anything deficient in our faith.

When David ruled as king over Israel, his son Absalom usurped his throne.  David was forced to carry the burden of hunting down his own son along with failures in his own life that helped fuel the rebellion.  Eventually, Absalom was killed in battle.  When David heard the news, he cried out, “O my son Absalom! My son, my son Absalom! If only I had died instead of you–O Absalom, my son, my son!” (2 Samuel 18:33).  The commander of Israel’s army, Joab, confronted David for humiliating the soldiers who had just saved his kingdom by failing to praise them, but instead grieving for their enemy.  He also warned him his behavior might encourage them to serve another king.  David pulled himself together and put on an act for his troops, because that’s what leaders do when there is an expectation.

I must make a confession. Actually I must make two confessions.  I am prone to look over other people’s shoulders, and I am also good at telling people what they want to hear. That’s right!  I am a cheater and a liar! Before you contact my home church to have my ordination certificate revoked, let me explain.

On Sunday mornings I try to be at my best.  I go to bed early Saturday evening, double-check to make sure my clothes match, and “pray up” before meeting the public.  But sometimes I am not in the right spiritual, mental and emotional place necessary to deliver God’s truth to His congregation.  This might be due to a head cold, distractions, discouragements, or even a mild case of depression.  On these days, a staff member or elder who knows I am struggling will see me in the hallway and ask me how I am doing.  I offer my standard response: “Great!”  They smile because they know better, but we also both understand how it is.  As leaders we have to be confident and strong for the sake of those who are hurting.

Incidentally, if I know I am lying and another church leader knows I am lying, and I know he knows I am lying, is that the same as telling the truth?  Never mind.  I know the answer.

I actually think staying focused and standing strong as I prepare to preach is a thing.  I don’t want my problems to be a distraction.  Yet, I must find a way to be authentic, even if it involves confessing my hurt in a purposeful way in my sermons.  I am not afraid to pour out my heart to others and ask them to pray for me in my distress, as long as I don’t add to their distress.  If I can’t be honest, I become a slave to expectations and a spiritual fraud.  More than one servant of God has shipwrecked on the shoals of such pretense.

I would like to encourage you to participate in a small exercise.  Try it right now if possible. Imagine for a moment the only expectations in life are the one’s God has shared with you in His Word.  This means the agendas other people in your life have for you are non-existent.  The voices from your past that often drive your actions were never spoken.  There is no such thing as a self-help book and those magazines on the grocery rack that promise a “better life now” were never printed.

If these things were true, would it be easier for you to be honest with God about your needs, and less consumed with comparisons?  Obviously, other people’s expectations are not necessarily negative.  We need accountability, which is why God has put others in our lives to reinforce His truth and encourage us.  But in the final analysis, God’s will for our lives is the only thing that ultimately matters, and the only burden for conformity we should allow others to put on our shoulders is that we be transformed into His image.  The apostle Paul articulated this goal in his letter to the church in Rome: “Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.  Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is–his good, pleasing and perfect will.” (Romans 12:2)

I avoid man-made spiritual super-systems that are loaded with self-help jargon and led by experts who claim to have unlocked the secret of a happy life.  It seems to me they are heavy on guilt and human compliance and weak on the abiding grace of Jesus.  A good rule of thumb is to be careful about trusting our souls to anything that requires the three-digit code on the back of our credit card.

Therefore, if your faith has been shaken by your circumstances, resist the urge to use someone else’s answers.  Instead, surround yourself with people of faith who are committed to helping you discover how God is moving in your life.  Make sure they are the kind of believers who understand God’s unique design for every individual and His infinite wisdom in putting the pieces of our lives back together.  If you are blessed with these kinds of companions on your journey you will never need to cheat.  Were you to do so, you would truly be cheating yourself.

Chapter 11 – One Answer at a Time

On June 13, 2012, Michael Sokolski died.  Sokolski was the Polish-born American engineer who created the computer test sheet.  His invention is now known as the “Scranton”, which has become a code word for the act of filling in small circles with a #2 pencils by students everywhere.

A culture of urban wisdom has grown up around the Scranton, with several Internet sites devoted to beating the system.  Did you know all of the answers on a test sheet will be counted correctly if you smear them with Chapstick?  And we all know everything we read on the Internet is true!

Some advice is helpful.  Perhaps you remember your teacher telling you to guess as  a last resort if you were stumped on a test question.  On Scranton tests, wrong answers don’t count against the final score so it only makes sense to make a choice, even if it is an uninformed one.  But it is important not to get carried away.  If a test sheet scanner reads two answers for one question it will automatically count it wrong.

Similarly, when it comes to personal trials, if we try to answer too many questions at once, we can get stuck in analysis and never answer anything.  We begin to resemble those coin counting machines in grocery stores that shut down when we pile up too much change.  The counter can do the job, but only at a given pace.

When we are struggling to process events in our lives, it helps to break things down into smaller pieces and prioritize our steps.  Most of us do this instinctively, and the degree to which we take time to do it purposefully will increase our sense of control over our circumstances.  When Jesus’ brother James told us to find joy in our trials because they develop perseverance, he added, “Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything” (James 1:4). Maturity is a process that rarely occurs when we try to apply a quick fix.  For this reason we must learn to take deep breaths, and give God time to help us order our steps, one question at a time.

The day after the fire that claimed our church facility, our leaders met to begin charting a course for recovery.  We were confident God would show us how to turn our tragedy into a triumph for His kingdom, but we knew the road ahead was long and we could only speculate how Satan might try to destroy us.  The good news is we survived with flying colors.  Our ministry emerged from our restoration stronger and more vibrant than ever.

I contribute our success first to a faithful God who guided us, secondly, to some of the wisest and most gifted leaders in the world, and third to a church family that responded with unwavering devotion.  As the Body of Christ we put our personal goals aside for the season of need and pressed on day after day, year after year.

But we didn’t move without a plan. The “day after”, we sorted through many necessary tasks, processes and priorities.  We assembled teams of people to assume important roles. Most importantly, we resisted the urge to decide everything overnight.  In fact, our first step was to take a day to pray, plan and rest.  Outside well-wishers showed up to help, but in most cases we just wrote down their names and phone numbers and thanked them for their thoughtfulness.

In times of crisis we want to take control and start “doing”, but usually what we need most is not control, but self-control.  If we fail in this respect we can find ourselves answering so many questions at once we get them all wrong.

How then, do we organize our steps?  In life, our struggles don’t come to us on a test sheet with three or four possible solutions.  Instead, they flood into our lives like tidal waves.  How can we think about the next step when the ground beneath us has disappeared and we find ourselves treading water in an endless bath of froth and debris?

In the case of our fire recovery we decided ministry to people would be our number one priority.  This doesn’t mean our reconstruction work was not ministry, or that the logistics of things had nothing to do with people.  Yes, it was important to physically secure the burned out remains of our facility, and to begin the long journey that would ultimately lead us to a new home for ministry.  But it was more important to find a temporarily place to gather, establish a means for people to find the help they needed, and continue our mission of grace to a lost and dying world.

In most trials, once we identify what’s important, we can climb above the rubble and create a reasonable timeline for reclaiming our lives.  First we address the critical questions, make a few guesses when we don’t know for sure, and lay the rest aside to be dealt with when time and energy permits.  I have found three “C’s” to be extremely helpful as we make these determinations.  They are, “comfort”, “control” and “cause.”

We all need to be comforted when we are hurting.  Our compassionate Father cares for us through His angels, the providential unfolding of circumstances, and the love of His people. The Psalmist wrote, “When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul” (Psalm 94:19).

God will define His ministry in our lives, but it is partially up to us to decide what we need from His people.  Depending on our circumstances and our personality, we will either choose to share our needs with everyone, or limit our information to a select few.  Those who know us will pick up on our cues and apply God’s grace accordingly.  Establishing these kinds of boundaries is natural and healthy.  This doesn’t mean there aren’t times when we need the whole church body to surround us in love, but it does acknowledge there are times when the most loving thing people can do is give us the space we need to heal.  Caring people who have experienced trials themselves know there is such a thing as too much help, and we shouldn’t feel guilty if we need to be left alone or find a place to hide with our loved ones.  If you fear pushing people away is unspiritual, consider the example of Jesus who slipped away to pray alone and surrounded Himself with His closest disciples while He anguished in the Garden of Gethsemane.

Secondly, we need control in the midst of chaos.  We should not expect to have complete control over everything, but our ability to order our own lives in some way reminds us we are not destitute.  When we face tragedies, we will often busy ourselves with unimportant tasks because we are consumed with the need to manage, and the people who love us turn us loose to “knock ourselves out.”  Nothing is more human.

Of course, we know God is in control.  With the psalmist we proclaim, “The Lord reigns, let the nations tremble; he sits enthroned between the cherubim, let the earth shake” (Psalm 99:1).  Yet, we still need to know we have the power to personally influence events in our lives. When we can’t do anything about everything we will do everything possible about anything.

When my father died, I faced these obsessions.  I wasn’t able to determine the circumstances of my father’s death, but I could decide who I was going to allow in my circle of pain.  With the exception of my wife who was on the journey with me, I guarded my feelings and looked for an opportunity to grieve at a time and place of my choosing.  My church family understood, and ironically I would reveal some of my deepest thoughts in front of them as I preached.  Preaching was a forum I could control since the congregation wasn’t likely to talk back.  This is very human as well.

While our desire to control is fundamental, as our trials unfold we must discern what we can and can’t control.  It is wearisome to care for things we can entrust to close friends, and counterproductive to manage things that are unmanageable.  This is an area where our dependence on God must grow, and our pride must shrink.  Sometimes the first glimmer of hope appears in our lives when we turn loose of the things we have been trying to control and focus on the few simple things we know for sure.

Lastly, we must order our perception of cause.  Cause is the context for the hard questions of “Why me?” and “Why now?” that were addressed earlier.  We have already determined it is impossible to answer all of the “whys” of life, however, it is possible to answer some of them.  Knowing the difference is the key to clearing away the fog in our minds and finding the strength to move forward when we haven’t completely resolved the past.

Cause is undoubtedly the most difficult of the three “C’s” to process.  Why did an SUV hit a tree killing its driver and sparing its passenger?  Did the driver err?  Was he intoxicated? Did the driver forget to buckle his seat belt?  Did he swerve to spare the life of a pedestrian?  Was there a mechanical malfunction in the SUV’s steering system, or did a tire blow out?  Was the passenger’s life miraculously saved because God had a job for him to do?  Was the driver’s life lost because his work on earth was complete?

Some “whys” can be resolved through careful investigation, especially when they involve machinery or technology.  For example, NASA’s space shuttle program, while wildly successful, will be remembered for two disasters involving shuttles Challenger and Columbia.  Challenger exploded during its ascent due to a faulty O-ring.  Columbia broke apart on reentry as a result of damaged heat shield tiles.  When the cause of these tragedies was discovered, measures were taken to prevent the same malfunctions from occurring again.  Still, some ask: was there a higher purpose at work?  Apollo 13 also suffered a catastrophic accident while orbiting the moon, but its passengers returned safely to earth.  Why?

These parallel investigations involving mechanical-technical and higher purpose causes represent two important thought processes that are evident in most of our lives when we face a trial.  I should clarify my use of the word “cause” is not intended to suggest God initiates tragedy.  Human suffering is to be expected in a fallen world.  But regardless of whether God directly causes an event or merely allows it, we still want to know “why?”

I used to cringe when family members asked police officers or doctors about the grizzly details of a loved one’s death.  It seemed to me graphic facts could only serve to accentuate the pain.  In some ways, they did, but in other ways they were all a part of coming to terms with the cause.  Piecing together why something bad happened seemed to help people move forward.  The truth didn’t always make them less angry or resentful, but it did remove the fog.

Unfortunately, finding a higher purpose is more difficult than finding a faulty piece of machinery.  This is especially true when we discover our pain is the result of irresponsibility or some evil act.  People sometimes tell me they believe their trial is a part of a bigger plan, yet they still experience feelings of confusion and abandonment.  What they are really sharing is an accurate picture of the spiritual struggle between our certainties and uncertainties, and the frantic need to find God’s hand in them.

This is why I encourage people to practice the biblical principle of contending.  It is nearly impossible to live with profound questions we can’t presently answer, or may never answer, if we don’t believe we are free to be honest with God.  There is no sin in saying, “God, I don’t like it.  I don’t even agree with it.  But I am going to try to learn to live with it because I trust You.”  In this way we can acknowledge the existence of a higher purpose but still have peace if we never know it.  When we come to this place, and stop trying to answer too many questions at once, healing begins.

Chapter 10 – The Grace of Contending

“If four workers can build a shed in fifteen hours, how many workers will it take to build a shed in three hours?”  Who cares!

Alright, the manager of the project might care.  But there is no such person because this question is nothing more than a despicable word problem designed to drive us crazy when we were taking tests as students.  To make matters worse, many of us were warned not to ask questions about our test questions, but to read the problem again and choose the best answer.

It is possible the scars I bear from word problems are responsible for my reluctance to question God about my circumstances.  After all, God doesn’t make mistakes.  But what am I supposed to do when my trial doesn’t make sense?  Do I press the issue or guess and move on?

It wasn’t until I worked through the Old Testament book of Job during a graduate class that I began to find help for this dilemma through the theology of “contending.”  I had always considered arguing with God a dangerous proposition.  My closest encounter with a contender had been in an Alcoholics Anonymous session where a leader made an obscene gesture at God and cursed.  I was attending the session with a friend who wanted me to consider opening our church building up to the group.  I passed.

What do we learn from Job about approaching God with our disagreements?  Job’s suffering was not a result of sin, as his friends suggested, but he did sin when he questioned God’s wisdom.  Job forgot the limits of his human perspective and when God had heard enough, He spoke out of a whirlwind:  “Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me.” (Job 38:2-3)

What strikes me most is the fact Job lived another day to enjoy the favor of God.  He questioned God, crossed a line or two, but didn’t incur the full wrath of the Almighty.  Perhaps he escaped because he despised himself and repented in “dust and ashes” (Job 42:6).

We should not assume God ignores any blasphemous or statements on our part, just because we are in the midst of a personal storm.  He understands our trials, but He still holds us accountable.  Yet, I am convinced there is another sin that is potentially more harmful because it involves a spiritual state and not just a sinful word spoken in a moment of passion.  When Cain and Abel offered sacrifices to God, God rejected Cain’s sacrifice, but accepted Abel’s.  Many have suggested Cain failed to offer his best, but regardless of the reason, Cain didn’t handle God’s rejection well.  The Bible says, “So Cain was very angry, and his face was downcast” (Gen 4:5).  And that’s where his face stayed: “downcast.”  God tried to engage him in a conversation with the stern warning, “sin is crouching at your door” (Gen 4:7), but Cain continued down his path of rage.  It isn’t hard to understand how he eventually came to murder his brother in an open field.

Cain killed, in part because he refused to contend.  Had he been honest with God about his feelings of rejection, he might have been able to work through his anger.  While it is true he might have sinned in his conversation with God, at least his brother would still be alive.

I don’t view a heated discussion with God lightly.  Yet, I would rather risk His discipline than hide from His presence and allow Satan to devour my soul uncontested.  I have learned to raise my hand and question God, not to place Him on trial, but to acknowledge my frustrations and seek His guidance.  But where is the critical line?  What should I not say, and how should I not say it?

The Apostle Paul prayed for God to remove a “thorn in the flesh” that tormented him in his ministry.  While we don’t know the exact nature of his condition, we know Paul desperately sought healing.  In his second letter to the church at Corinth he wrote, “Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me” (2 Cor. 12:8), but the thorn remained.  The Lord answered, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9).  Do you think Paul wondered why he was allowed to suffer when He had given so much to the kingdom?  His thorn was a test to keep him from becoming conceited, but once the lesson was learned, was it really necessary?  I personally believe the Lord’s refusal to deliver Paul from his thorn was a very difficult pill to swallow.  Yet, he knew Christ’s power would be displayed in his weakness and was willing to live on the sufficient grace that was promised.

It does not appear Paul sinned when he pleaded.  Therefore, we can assume it is permissible to ask God for confirmation when we aren’t sure the pain we have been asked to bear is necessary.  He is not offended as long as we are ultimately obedient and willing to be used for His glory.

On the other hand, Israel fashioned a golden calf at the foot of Mt. Sinai while Moses was on the mountain receiving the Law of God.  They grew impatient and exchanged the Living God and his faithful servant Moses for an idol.  God’s wrath was poured out on them and they learned the hard way there is a line one must not cross.

Both Paul and the Israelites were challenged by God’s timing but one chose to seek His will while the other stepped outside of it.  This is the line: We can question our circumstances and God’s involvement in them, but we must do so with a spirit of humility and obedience, even if it kills us.

What value, then, is there in contending with God if we have ultimately determined to live for Him regardless of our circumstances?  Wouldn’t we save ourselves a lot of anxiety by accepting events as they occur without asking “why?”  We might at that.  But is this God’s will? Did He create us with a free will only to watch us refuse to face our fears and doubts and merely accept life as it comes?  I am convinced there are two reasons why God is very pleased when we raise questions.

First, we learn by attacking tough questions.  School debate teams are more than vehicles for people who love to argue.  They nurture a thirst for truth and share
ideas in a public forum where they can be tested.  Questions expose weak logic and give others the freedom to share opposing theories and conclusions.

I have walked with many people through the valley of doubt and fear and joined them in their confusion.  Seldom have we discovered “why?”  Yet, in our quest for resolutions we have uncovered other truths of great value. Like the man who sold everything he owned to purchase a priceless pearl, sometimes the things we find in our search for the things we seek are the most important.

The process of debate not only helps uncover unexpected truths, but it also exposes impure motives and hidden sin. The writer of Hebrews tells us God uses our trials as a form of discipline: “Our fathers disciplined us for a little while as they thought best; but God disciplines us for our good, that we may share in his holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it” (Hebrews 12:10-11).

The sin that has lodged itself in our hearts is not easily extracted.  It is enmeshed in a web of rationalization and self-justification. But trials break through our defenses and while we may never win a single argument with God, He leads us in victory over ourselves.

Therefore, contending produces maturity.  It opens the door for godly instruction which yields eternal fruit.  And while we might prefer an easier course, we know our stubborn hearts must be challenged if change is to occur.

Secondly, God is pleased to hear our questions, because on occasion He chooses to change our circumstances.  His intervention is not guaranteed, but when it happens we are overcome by joy and filled with praise.  God uses our testimony to encourage others in their faith and draw attention to the glorious working of His power.  We do not possess perfect knowledge to ascertain with certainty when and how God will move in our lives.  Yet, when we have pleaded as Paul, and witnessed His providential hand, we must honor Him with thanksgiving.

Within our #2 Pencil Faith framework, the “Law of Possibilities” affirms God can stay true to His will, even as He meets our needs and sometimes changes the course of our trials.  We may not know with certainty how He will act, or how He will use our actions, but we know He is able.  We learn to trust His wisdom as He weaves people, places and things together for His ultimate purposes.

We should pray, believing God will hear us and possibly change our circumstances. To think less than this would ignore James’ statement, “You do not have, because you do not ask God” (James 4:2).   In the asking, however, we should pursue God’s ultimate design for our lives and put aside our personal agendas (James 4:3).

God permits our contention, and in my opinion welcomes it, as long as we trust Him to do what is best.  I have seen people collapse under the false assumption their questions are going to imperil their salvation.  It is true we must eventually grow in our faith and move past our earthly struggles.  But if we deny their existence we can damage our relationship with God.  Grace is a broad shoulder upon which our tears can pour down.  Our Father already knows our pain.  It is fruitless to ignore it, and pretend we don’t care.  And it is downright dangerous to think for one moment He doesn’t care for us.

Chapter 9 – Why Now?

If the answer to the question “Why me?” can elude us, then what should we expect when we pursue its partner, “Why now?”  If God, in His wisdom, has chosen not to spare us our trials, perhaps He will carve out some generous respites in the ebb and flow of life.  One might postulate so, but one would be wrong.  God does not appear to offer any more deference in the timing of our pain than He does His decision to allow us to suffer in the first place.  I am not confirming this is the case, but I sense it accurately reflects our perceptions.

As they say, “the hits just keep on coming.” Like a flurry of punches in the late rounds of a boxing match, each troubling experience in our lives brings us closer to a knock-out.  It is hard to imagine a good time for a trial, but at least when our challenges are spread out over weeks, months, or years we have an opportunity to regroup and heal.  On the other hand, when the enemy’s attacks are unrelenting, we can find ourselves overwhelmed.

The Bible is filled with the accounts of godly people who encountered the worst trials imaginable at the worst possible time.  Consider the widow of Zerephath.  God pressed her into service to provide shelter for the prophet Elijah.  Elijah’s effectual prayer, designed to bring wicked King Ahab to his knees, had brought drought and family to the land.  Unfortunately, both Elijah and the widow suffered along with everyone in the land.  When Elijah arrived at the widow’s home he asked her to draw him some water and bake him a cake.  His timing was horrible!  The poor widow was already busy preparing what she believed to be her last meal before she and her son died of starvation.  But in faith she obeyed and God blessed her with a miraculously supply of oil and flower throughout Elijah’s visit.

Then the widow’s son grew ill and died.  Really?  The widow who was so faithful lost her son, even as she was caring for God’s anointed?  How could such a thing happen to a woman who had been so faithful?  We can appreciate her words to Elijah: “What do you have against me, man of God? Did you come to remind me of my sin and kill my son” (1 Kings 17:18)?  Elijah was no less shocked as he prayed, “O LORD my God, have you brought tragedy also upon this widow I am staying with, by causing her son to die” (1 Kings 17:20)?  Ok, so the story had a happy ending when Elijah raised the boy from the dead.  But resurrections from the dead in this life are rare.

If we knew all of our trials were going to end happily, the wait would be less agonizing.  We sympathize with the widow and aren’t surprised by her confusion.  Why would God provide for her needs if His intention all along was to punish her by taking away the only thing that really mattered?  Why would He do such a thing “now” after she and the boy had already been through so much?

Bad timing begs the question “Why now?” But it can hardly been seen apart from our other question, “Why me?”  If our issue with trials were merely a matter of inconvenience, we might easily endure.  But when we experience one struggle after another we begin to think God has indeed singled us out.  With the widow we shout, “What do you have against me?  Why me?  Why now?”  We can’t imagine what we have done to suffer so, and for so long, and so often.

Perhaps you have seen stress charts that assign numerical values to various events, such as the loss of a family member, major illness or new career.  While these tools might help us understand our feelings and behaviors, they don’t save us from the summary point, “This isn’t fair!”  Just because something can be defined doesn’t mean it makes sense.  If we ultimately conclude the timing of our circumstances is nonsensical, we are left to ask how we might expect God to move, how we might move without God, or something in-between.

A fatalist assumes inequality in a universe without a God who is intimately involved in the lives of His people.  But those who trust in God look beyond their circumstances to a God of possibilities.  He alone possesses perfect vision with the freedom to exercise His will in infinite ways to accomplish His purposes.

How does this trust work in practical terms?  Some believers, finding themselves on the losing side of mathematical odds, assume there must be a heavenly reason for their earthly pain.  They are certain nothing happens without a reason.

A few years ago I sat in my office with a young woman who had lost nearly every member of her family within the span of a year. The first two were murdered, a third died of cancer, a fourth of a massive heart attack and a fifth from cancer.  I wrongly assumed this dear sister in Christ was heavily burdened with doubt, so I subjected her to a twenty minute seminar on why bad things happen to good people.  When I finally came up for air, she looked at me with a hopeful countenance and said, “Momma always taught us to trust God whether we understand what is happening in our lives or not. I believe everything happens for a reason and that’s what I’m holding on to.”

I am in basic agreement with this “for a reason” approach, as long as it doesn’t attribute evil acts to God, but accepts the fact He sometimes allows them and has the ability to use them for a holy purpose.  This principle is rooted in God’s decision to give us free will, and presumes some of our hardships in life might also be self-inflicted.  As long as we define “reason” within these parameters, it will be difficult for Satan to gain a foothold in our hearts.

When Joseph’s brothers sold him into slavery, they put him in harm’s way and nearly destroyed their father Jacob.  In the years that followed Joseph was slandered, imprisoned and abandoned, but God preserved him for a divine strategy.  When Joseph was finally reunited with his brothers, he showed them grace and took care of their families.  But when Jacob died, his brothers were afraid of retaliation, so they fabricated a will from their father requiring mercy from Joseph.  Joseph’s response revealed his love for his brothers and his heart for God:  “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives” (Genesis 50:20).  Joseph’s trial couldn’t have happened at a worse time for him or his father.  He endured one test after another until God finally delivered Him and elevated him to a powerful position in Egypt.  His troubles seemed poorly sequenced and intolerably intense, but God used them for His glory.

Yet, we are still left with a dilemma if God is truly in control of our circumstances.  If His power is absolute why doesn’t He strategically position our trials so we have more time to recover from one to the next?  Would it be too much to ask Him to set age limits on suffering, so our children have time to enjoy life before they are struck down by disease or some thoughtless act of violence?  In the interest of timing, perhaps the young single mother could be spared until her children are grown, or the husband until he has lovingly nursed his wife of fifty-five years through the cruel valley of Alzheimer’s.

I realize if we had our way each time we cried, “Why now?” we would eliminate trials altogether.  There would be no such things as dental work, car repairs, power outages or door-to-door salesmen who interrupt our family meal.  “Great!” you say.  “Would it really matter in the whole scheme of things if these unwelcomed quests disappeared?”  Perhaps it would not, but how would we know?  And what kind of people would we be if God shielded us from every uncertainty?  Could we endure the greater struggles if we escaped the lesser?

Such a proposition is also inconsistent with the Bible’s description of mankind.  If all have sinned, then we cannot escape suffering.  This doesn’t mean all suffering is a result of sin, but rather that sin is one cause of suffering in the life of sinner and those he hurts.

Perhaps God could set limits, allowing just enough suffering in our lives to maintain our status as free agents, but give us more choice over events, times and places.  Some say He does set limits and will only allow us to suffer what He thinks we can endure.  But has He really promised this, or merely told us He will not allow us to be tempted beyond our ability to resist sin? (1 Corinthians 10:13).  The strength to resist sin doesn’t guarantee we will be spared physical, mental, emotional or even spiritual anguish.  It also doesn’t exclude the possibility we might die for our convictions.

Since it is not within our power to control the actions of others, and since we have no few insights into God’s future timing, we have no choice but to trust Him with circumstances as they unfold in our lives.  Sometimes God causes and sometimes God allows, but whether we are led by providence or exposed to suffering in a broken world, He can bring good out of anything.  My circumstances might overwhelm me and even though the power of God works in me I might break under the pressure.  Yet, the Mighty One will not abandon me in my hour of need, and even if His comfort comes in the form of attending angels as I breathe my last, He will give me everything required.

I tremble when I think on such things, but I don’t lose heart. The Lord I live for is the same One I suffer with, and the One in whose presence I live now and forevermore. I have no definitive answer for the questions of “Why me?” or “Why now?” but God’s wisdom and faithfulness sustain me.

Dear Morning Devotion Group:  I will be posting Pencil Faith this weekend.  I want to finish our “18 Days of Pencil Faith” by next weekend.  The following Monday we begin a new series on the “Bride of Christ” (the church).  I have already completed the text I will be posting.  If you would like the complete book at once, e-mail me at larryj@northsidecc.org and I will send it to you.  I am going to bind the material into book form and give it to people I share with who are going through difficult trials, so any input you have is appreciated.  Blessings, Larry Jones

Chapter 8 – Why Me?

Intense suffering and catastrophic loss test our confidence in God’s justice.  When pain becomes personal our faith grows dysfunctional.   We learn to mask our disappointment but cannot escape the battle raging in our souls.  Finally, our afflictions turn insidious and we cry out with Job, “What I feared has come upon me; what I dreaded has happened to me” (Job 3:25).  It isn’t difficult to understand why God’s servants who are hurting ask “Why me?”

We don’t have to be the one’s suffering to pose the question.  We also contend with God when a loved one is seriously ill or wounded in some way.  And while those we care for often find peace in their circumstances, we complain on their behalf and wage demonic wars of our own.  Should we surrender them to the last enemy, we are left to pick up the pieces of our shattered hearts and somehow reconcile our expectations with the wisdom of God.

Our resolution usually involves one of the following: God has failed us, we have failed God, or we have failed each other. Perhaps our cultural bent toward fairness prompts us to spread the blame around. We have not been without fault, but then in our minds, neither has God.

Of course, we would not express our perceptions in this way, at least not aloud.  Few of us would boldly accuse God of wrongdoing.  We are more comfortable asking Him why He seems absent or difficult to understand.  When our world crashes in around us, we must find a reason.  The possibility we might be entirely at fault is too unbearable, and our opinion of God forces us to look away lest we find ourselves speechless in His presence.

To be at peace with God, we must be honest with Him about our feelings.  In any other situation our reaction would be considered normal.  If we were being attacked by a robber on a city street and a policeman ignored our cries for help, we would boil with anger.  If we discovered our attacker was the son of a local politician and the judge tossed out the case because the politician was an old classmate, we would threaten a law suit.  Should we be surprised if we question God’s justice when our circumstances don’t seem fair?

Please don’t misunderstand.  Expressing our anger at God is a dangerous proposition. Whether it is always a sin is a theological question people have debated for centuries. Ephesians 4:26 tells us anger is an opportunity for sin, but is it possible to be angry with God under some circumstances without sinning?  Personally, I have not resolved this issue, but I am confident of two things: anger against God is not the unpardonable sin, and it is easier to deal with our disappointments with God when we tell Him what He already knows.

If we are angry with God, for whatever reason, we should admit it.  If He hasn’t already struck us dead for the things we have been thinking, He probably won’t do so when we speak our mind.  I am not suggesting it is permissible to curse God, or to forget for one moment how He views insubordination.  Moses understood this boundary when he wrote, “Who knows the power of your anger? For your wrath is as great as the fear that is due you” (Psalm 90:11).  Should we think there is cathartic power in unleashing a barrage of disrespectful cries in God’s direction, we might want to reconsider. God has His own form of release against which no one can stand.

On the other hand, it is possible to be paralyzed by our indignation because we are afraid God will condemn us if we are truthful.  We carry our hurts around with us and censor our prayer lives lest we misspeak.  Personally, I believe God understands this impasse and grieves with us as we struggle through our nightmares.  He is patient and loving as well as wrathful and knows the intentions of our hearts, even when our demeanor is cold and distant.

For these reasons, we should pour our hearts out before the One who loves us in spite of ourselves.  If we have sinned in our anger, then confession will release the waters from the dam that has kept us from the only One who can rescue us.  An honest heart is capable of confession.  Does the thought of confessing your faults to a God you believe to be partially responsible for your pain bother you?  Then you have all the more reason to come before Him on bended knee.

Our decision to confess our feelings to God is healthy, but we must move past emotion and address specifics.  Exactly why have we been unable to face God?  Do we hold others who have hurt us in contempt and have we murdered them a hundred times in our hearts?  Are we eaten up with guilt because of our own sinful acts, and are we bitter that the grace our believing friends speak of so freely seems to be in short supply when we need it most?

Confession is how we clear the air with God, and the place where we begin to sincerely address the “Why me?” inquiry.  Even if we think we are innocent of more grievous sins, the fact we have wasted one moment wallowing in human pride is reason enough for serious inventory. We cry out with David in full assurance, “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise” (Psalm 51:17).          Honesty and confession make it possible to hear God, but they don’t guarantee an answer to every question.  In truth, we may never why He has allowed us to suffer, at least in this life.

Consider John the Baptist.  John was more than a prophet cloaked in camel’s-hair. He was the little “surprise” born to Mary’s elderly cousin Elizabeth.  He never wavered in his mission to prepare the world for the “Lamb of God”, and didn’t shrink from calling sinners to repentance.  And when Jesus emerged John introduced Him to the crowds and humbly stepped aside.

But this was not the end of John’s prophetic work.  It is hard for a truth talker to remain silent.  When King Herod entered into an immoral relationship with his brother’s wife Herodias, John confronted him and was summarily tossed in prison.  One day Herod was celebrating his birthday with some guests and Salome, Herodias’ daughter, danced before him.  Impressed, and probably intoxicated, Herod offered her a single wish.  Salome’s mother Herodias didn’t need long to come up with a suggestion, and in quick order John the Baptist’s head was delivered on a platter.

As unfortunate as these events were, they are not the most troubling part of the story.  We can understand Herodias’ motives.  But how should we interpret Jesus’ behavior toward John?  Perhaps on a day when John was overcome with depression he sent some disciples to ask Jesus if He really was the Messiah.  Why?  Is it possible John felt abandoned?  If Jesus really was the Son of God would He allow His own cousin to rot away in prison?  Had John wasted his entire life on a false premise?

Jesus told John’s disciples to deliver this message: “Go back and report to John what you have seen and heard: The blind receive sight, the lame walk, those who have leprosy are cured, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the good news is preached to the poor. Blessed is the man who does not fall away on account of me” (Luke 7:22-23).  Do you think these words were encouraging to John?  They celebrated Jesus’ ministry but did nothing to fix John’s circumstances, and in some ways made things worse.  Couldn’t someone who was giving people back their sight, curing leprosy and raising the dead find the time to spring a poor prophet from prison?  Would it have hurt God’s plan of redemption to rescue a deserving servant who was suffering for righteousness’ sake?

Of course, my rambling is largely speculative since we aren’t told what John was really thinking.  Maybe He was ready to die as a prophet, but just needed a little reassurance.  But it is just as possible he died in a state of confusion as to purpose behind his persecution, especially since he had been faithful in everything.

This brings me to a difficult position I have grown more comfortable with as the years have passed.  Sometimes, it is enough to know God cares for me and is aware of my circumstances.  Not only has He not promised to protect me from all harm, but He has also never said He would provide full insight into His providential plans.  Does this reality frustrate me?  Of course it does.  I want to know “Why me?”  I would also like to be able to answer the same question for others.  But I now know I must come to a place where I am more focused on God’s abiding peace in the midst of things I do not understand than I am the reasons behind them.

Therefore we return to our #2 Pencil Faith metaphor, slightly wiser.  Satan’s attack on the certainties that comprise the greater portion of our faith is merely a delusion created to defeat us.  In time we recognize our foundation is sure, but our faith reflects a more mature awareness of God’s providence as it intersects the complexity of our human experience.  In brief terms God’s “Law of Possibilities” is greater than our finite perspective, and as our trust in His wisdom grows, the need for complete answers in this life begins to fade in light of His eternal glory. This is not an easy process of discovery, but one that is inevitable in our walk with the Father.

Chapter 7 – Is The Test Fair?

Standardized public school tests are often the subject of much debate.  Since there are disparities in the quality of school systems using the tests, the results do not always reflect a student’s potential.  Socio-economic factors also impact the ability students have to prepare for college entrance exams.  This doesn’t mean it is wrong for anyone to take advantage of every opportunity available that might lead to greater success.  However, these realities remind us true equality is not easy, if not impossible to achieve.

On school test days I sat at my desk with a computer sheet and my #2 pencils before me, wondering why some students, whom I considered my equals, always seemed to score better.  I’ll confess my study habits weren’t perfect.  Alright, so they were atrocious!  But through my misguided filters it appeared God had unfairly gifted some people in the art of testing.  I also suspected a possible conspiracy whereby favored students were given inside information because they had been secretly chosen by administrators to succeed.

Such are the fantasies of a young boy who, as his teachers used to write on his report card, “doesn’t live up to his potential.” Yet, even today I sense there was some truth, however, thin, to my perceptions.

Alright, I concede there was probably not a conspiracy. I say “probably” because there is always a possibility secret files might be found someday vindicating me for my poor performance.

If pressed, most of us would admit we are frequently troubled by two spiritual topics: The painful circumstances God permits in our lives, and His timing.  Perhaps you are more familiar with these subjects in their simple question format: “Why me and why now?”

When I share with those who are suffering through a personal trial or loss, we eventually find our way to one or both of these two inquiries.  I am often amazed when I see the strength with which people process disease, disaster and death.   They accept these as a part of life, but it still troubles them when suffering occurs in disproportionate or untimely ways.  If the test is fair, then shouldn’t we all suffer equally and be given the same adequate time to heal before our next trial comes along?   And if God is in charge, couldn’t He do a little better job administrating our circumstances so our portions of pain are more evenly distributed?

Those who struggle with these questions raise some valid points in the interest of divine justice.  When it comes to equality Jesus did say His Father causes the sun to shine and the rain to fall on the just and the unjust (Matthew 5:45).  And if there is a providential bias it clearly favors those who try to honor God with their lives.  David established this principle when he wrote, “He will never let the righteous fall”? (Psalm 55:22).  On the subject of timing, Moses once claimed we are given seventy years of life, and possibly eighty if we receive an extra dispensation of strength (Psalm 90:10).  Should we not conclude, then, that any death short of this allotment is untimely?

The collective cry of hundreds of conversations I have had with hurting people goes something like this: “If God is good, then how can He allow faithful servants to suffer, and why doesn’t He reward all of them with a reasonably long life?”  Some have answered their cries by criticizing the sufferer.  They argue God is not unfair, but rather limited by our lack of faith.  If we only believed enough He protect us from harm and preserve our lives for the stated “three score and ten” and perhaps twenty.  After all, the Apostle Paul did say “in all things God works for the good of those who love Him” (Romans 8:28).

This approach so often compounds the pain of the sufferer as inflicts immeasurable guilt on a heart that is already shattered.  Then whose fault is it our tests have been skewed?  Has God abandoned us, or have we abandoned God?  And what must we do to make things right?  It is possible to throw out our score and take the test again?

We will try to make sense of this quandary later.  But for now it is only right for me to share my personal position on the question of fairness. I suspect you already know: the test is “not” intended to be fair.

Our parents warned us “Life isn’t fair.”  But it is important to realize this truth is not the result of a universe out of control, or a God who doesn’t care.  Rather, it is a result God’s purposeful design.  He has given mankind a free will and permitted the dreadful consequence of sin to exist alongside His goodness.  One day He will separate the good from the bad and make things fair, but for now this is our reality.  Inequality is characteristics in a fallen world.

Does this bother you?  Are you upset by the suggestion God could make things better if He wanted to, but has decided not to so we have a free choice?  While disturbing, I personally prefer this arrangement over the alternatives that God can’t help us, or doesn’t exist at all.

I return to my disparity reference for one additional perspective.  It is our moral duty to provide a quality education for every child in our society, and to nurture a culture where everyone has an opportunity to pursue his or her dreams.  But I do not assume for a moment we will ever do this perfectly.  There will be budget restraints and failed policies among educators. Children will come to the classroom with different abilities, and some will be seriously impaired by poor training at home or difficult circumstances over which they have no control. And while I have the greatest respect for teachers, some are more talented than others, and even the most gifted face personal struggles that can make them ineffective for a season.

People of all ages and in all walks of life speak of working with the “hand they are dealt.” While I don’t subscribe to this fatalistic description of the human condition, it is an accurate expression of our response, and admission of life’s inequality.

God still moves in our lives and bring clarity and direction in spite of sin.  But as we move on in our discussion I must challenge you to set aside any notion that anyone’s spiritual journey will be fair.  If we allow ourselves to get stuck in this false precept, we may never find our way back to the truths that have the power to save us.

Chapter 6 – A Tested Faith is Not an Absence of Faith

“Take a deep breath!”

The stranger’s advice wasn’t exactly what I was expecting, but it was what I needed.  My parents had given me permission to rent a rowboat on McDonald Lake behind a lodge in Montana. The surface was placid when I pushed off from shore, but by the time I returned the wind had increased and menacing waves rocked my little craft.

I was not a novice on the water, but the strangeness of the lake combined with the unwise decision to boat alone left me in a crisis.  I jerked hard on the oars and they jumped out of their mounts.  Each time I replaced them they jumped out again and I grew more anxious.

An older couple spotted my dilemma from the shoreline and the husband cried out.  “It’s alright. You’re not that far away! Take a deep breath!”

I paused.

“Now, put the oars back in the mounts and row slowly.  You don’t have to hurry. You are so close. Just row slowly. Take your time!”

In fact, I was not that far from shore and in a few moments the bow of my boat plowed into the beach.  I stepped out, handed my life jacket to the rental manager and walked over to my rescuer to shake his hand.

“Thanks!”

“You’re welcome.  It’s easy to get in trouble out there.”

He was being gracious since I wasn’t really that far “out there”.  But it was far enough to leave me shaken and thoroughly embarrassed.

Embarrassment seems to go hand-in-hand with the testing of our faith.  The same Peter who cut off a servant’s ear to protect Jesus also let Him down.  Jesus had predicted his denial and warned him Satan was out to get him.  Peter refused to believe Him, but in the courtyard his pride came unraveled.  “The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter. Then Peter remembered the word the Lord had spoken to him: “Before the rooster crows today, you will disown me three times.  And he went outside and wept bitterly” (Luke 22:61-62).

After his resurrection Jesus appeared on a shore and yelled out, “Friends, have you any fish?” (John 21:5).

“No!” came the answer.

“Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some!” They did, and their net was so full of fish they were unable to haul it in.

John turned to Peter.  “It’s the Lord.”

With wounded heart Peter swam to shore where Jesus met him and restored him with an undeserved, reckless love.  Peter’s faith was tested, but it wasn’t lost. He was thoroughly humbled and his spirit nearly crushed. Yet he believed. A test of faith is not the same as a lack of faith.

When I walk through dark valleys with others, I often find them more distressed over their apparent lack of faith than their trials.  People accept physical pain and personal loss as a part of the human experience, but they agonize over the thought they have failed to meet God’s expectations.  When they pray and God doesn’t give them a sudden clear sign of His presence, they panic, just as I panicked on McDonald Lake and Peter panicked in the courtyard.

This is why I have continued to use my #2 Pencil Faith illustration when I counsel.  While I am all too aware our relationship with God cannot be confined to a neatly framed metaphor, the notion that trials warp our spiritual perspective seems to connect with people.  If nothing else, the illustration gives them a template to help manage their thoughts and emotions.

Could this be why Jesus spoke through parables and used His human encounters as teachable moments?  The word pictures and experiences His followers committed to memory helped them organize eternal truths in their minds.

Consider the methods Jesus used to increase the faith of His disciples.  He said those of “little faith” should remember the grass of the field which God uses to clothe the ground.  If He cares so about something that is eventually thrown in a fire, won’t He care more for us? (Matthew 6:30). When the disciples were perishing in a storm on the sea Jesus rebuked them for their “little faith” then spoke to the waves and the storm ceased (Matthew 8:26). After Peter’s nearly fatal walk on water Jesus questioned him as he stood wringing wet in the boat, “You of little faith. Why did you doubt?” (Matthew 14:31). When the disciples were worried about finding bread Jesus reminded them of His miraculous feeding of the five thousand and confronted them for their “little faith” (Matthew 16:8).  Jesus also used the example of a growing mustard seed in contrast to “little faith” (Matthew 17:20).

Was Jesus suggesting His disciples were non-believers? Absolutely not!  But their faith was underdeveloped.  They had not learned the complexities of God’s providence and the possibilities of His divine option.  Their fears and doubts unsettled the certainties of their faith.  The sliding pencil in their #2 Pencil Faith was tossed about by the wind and waves.  They were often unstable in their faith, but not without.

No, a test of faith is not the same as the absence of faith.  Instead, it is an opportunity to grow in faith.  Satan might use our circumstances to destroy us, but God can use them to strengthen us.  For this reason, instead of despairing when we face an onslaught of spiritual quandaries, we should rejoice.  As James, the brother of Jesus wrote, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance” (James 1:2-3).

You may not be ready to rejoice in the testing of your faith, but perhaps you can take comfort in the knowledge your feelings are normal.  You should also know you are not that far from shore. So take a deep breath and row slow.

Chapter 5 – Broken Lead

I have always been a lead breaker. As a lefty my writing style is rather unorthodox, and I have a bad habit of holding utensils too tightly and pushing down hard. Mechanical pencils are impossible and even ballpoint pens sometimes crack in two, sending parts flying into the air.

Some of my classmates used to groan when our teacher insisted we bring two #2 pencils. I worried two might not be enough. More than once I did indeed break them both, and only under careful surveillance was allowed to trek to the back of the room where a hand-crank pencil sharpener was screwed to a door frame.

My response to fear and doubt reminds me of the two pencil rule.  When trials come, I press against my circumstances in a feeble attempt to maintain control.  If I am unable to effect change where it counts I will look for anything over which I can claim dominion and launch an all-out assault.

Several years ago the church I serve experienced a fire that destroyed its facility. The months that followed were filled with nightly meetings, daily challenges, victories and disappointments.  More than once, I teetered on the cliff of personal despair. One afternoon I was driving to the hospital to see a church member when I experienced heaviness in my chest and sharp pains in my jaw.  In a short time I was in the emergency room being examined for a possible heart attack.

My heart was fine, but it was time for me to undergo a total lifestyle makeover that included more exercise, better food and a thorough shake down of my work schedule.  The only problem was, I was a slave to our fire recovery process, and there was no way I could avoid the needs around me.

So I found something to control.  I had always exercised regularly, but I decided to ramp things up.  I started eating like a mouse and running like a fool.  In a short time I had lost nearly thirty pounds and was running seven miles a day, seven days a week.

Honestly, it felt wonderful to lose the weight, and I placed impressively at a local 5K race, if I must say so myself.  But one night at a church elder’s meeting, as I was standing with the men who were faithfully walking with me through our trial, my body failed. We had formed a circle for our closing prayer and as my hands started to slip from the hands of the elders on either side, I collapsed in a chair at the table.

A cookie and a soft drink revived me, but clearly the things I was controlling had found a way to control me.  I learned an important lesson about control: the harder we press to control something that is out of our control, the closer we come to disaster in all areas of our lives.

It is difficult to discern when our spiritual walk is out of control.  When the certainties we once counted on are shaken to their core, Satan uses pride to drive our obsessions.  At least we know we are not the first.

In the Garden of Gethsemane Jesus finished His prayer and woke up His disciples just in time for Judas’ grand entrance.  The betrayer delivered his kiss and a crowd of henchmen from the chief priests took Jesus into custody.  There must have been a violent scuffle with shoving, screaming and perhaps a cuss word or two.  Then Peter drew a sword and in the presence of everyone cut off the ear of Malchus, the servant of the High Priest.  Ouch!

The poor servant must have fallen to his knees, writhing in pain with his hand cupped around a bloody stub.  But Jesus reached out healed him.  Then He said, “No more of this!”

“No more of this!”

No more of what?  No more pushing back against the providential plan of God.  No more attempting to control the uncontrollable. No more intervention in the ministry of the Savior who came to give His life for many.

Wasn’t it God who asked Job, “Will the one who contends with the Almighty correct him” (Job 40:2a)?  Peter and Job had both tried to restore order to chaos when in fact chaos is what God was using to accomplish His ends.

I think we can all understand their confusion.  Isn’t God a God of order?  Why then do we feel we are working against Him when all we want is a logical framework within which to organize our circumstances? We don’t need a finished product.  Even some scaffolding will do.

“No more of this!”

Then, God, what am I supposed to do?