A few years back, when I was in the midst of a situation I was completely unsure how to handle, and desperately needing God to direct me clearly, one early morning I found a message written in the sunrise-pinkened clouds. It was one word, and that in a foreign language, but it's the only foreign language I know any of. There in the east, where He knew I'd be looking, was the word se. In Spanish, it means, "I know."
In that moment, in the midst of all the questions raging through my heart and mind, all the uncertainty and nervousness and even doubt that I'd be able to discern God's voice amid the storm of my own emotions, that one word spoke volumes to my soul.
It was a reminder that He knew both my heart, and my situation. He knew. He knows. Intimately, at levels only He could ever understand, the levels I can just never seem to get into words or music or any other means of expression--He knows. Always. Se is present tense; and our God is ever-present.
It was a reminder that He was aware of more than I could be. He knew not only where I was, but what lay ahead of me. He knew every moment leading in and out of things, all the ways He was preparing my heart and setting the stage to speak to me in ways that would be undeniable.
It was a reminder that I didn't need to know it all--that my role was to trust Him. The more often I find myself in circumstances where I must deliberately give up my desire to know all the answers, the more often I wind up realizing later that if I'd known, I either would have fainted and given up, or my brain would have exploded. Either way, not very pretty. God's ways are truly higher than ours, and His thoughts are as far above ours as the heavens are above this tiny blue-green planet we call home for now.
So if you don't know what comes next, or how you're even supposed to make it through today, find your rest in the One who knows. He is our answer. Trust me, I've been there, in that place of fear and uncertainty and complete cluelessness, feeling like a shipwreck about to happen. But He's been there with me, every step. It's not that I've never faltered, but that He's never let me go.
He has walked with me through seasons I soon looked back on with anguish and regret, wondering how I could have been so blind and foolish, and certain that nothing beautiful could ever come of these ashes. But despite my certainty and my desire that such periods be erased from my history, He has used them. He's used them in ways that continue to blow me away, for He was not oblivious to things even when I was. He knew. He always knows.
There is nothing on this earth that ever happens without Him knowing about it, without Him seeing it happen. It may seldom make sense to us, why He allows so many things to happen, if He knows. But that's the thing: He knows what's at the end of it. He sees our pain, but He also sees how it will be worked together for good in the end. Miraculously, He takes even such darkness as sin and death, and uses them to beat Satan at his own game. Our Father is never caught off His guard by anything that happens. But in His sovereignty, He works all things together for the good of those who love Him--those He's called according to His purposes. And you know what our good looks like? Being ever nearer to Him.
So whatever you may be going through right now, know this: He knows. And not just that, but He knows how He intends to use it all for His glory and your good. Those things are oddly one and the same, for our very purpose, the thing we were created for, is to glorify Him; and His glory is manifest in the way He causes all things to come together to draw us unto Him. He knows. He's got this. Trust Him.
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hope. Show all posts
Monday, October 27, 2014
Thursday, August 21, 2014
Don't Tell Me Not to Hope.
When I was younger, I was presented with the sound-seeming advice, "Hope for the best; expect the worst." Mainly, I was so instructed because at that point, I did not handle any letdown in my expectations very well, and, as my parents kept telling me, needed to learn to be more flexible. Well, I guess that's changed; I'm now quite laid-back when it comes to most things, especially last-minute changes in plans.
However, there are some things I hope I never take lying down, and expecting the worst is one of them. Sure, it's a good way to avoid getting hurt. It's a great way to close yourself off into a place where emotions are easier to deal with, because that hope never gets to float very high off the sewage-infested ground level. And nine times out of ten, you will see exactly what you're expecting to see.
I overheard someone recently go on and on (and on) about how bad Memphis has gotten over the years. Every "better" neighborhood this individual has moved to has gradually gotten worse and worse until, according to this person, even their current area (which actually happens to be one of the nicest, cleanest, and safest areas in the entire city) has become "a slum." I could not make eye contact or even acknowledge that I'd overheard the comment. It made me both laugh at the level of ignorance of someone who obviously has no idea whatsoever what a slum actually is, and grieve at the level of cynicism and hypocrisy that were flowing out in those words.
It's easy to complain. It's easy to wall ourselves off from other people's pain or pretend their lives are less important than ours. It's easy to have a mindset of self-preservation and try to avoid facing things that are too hard or too scary or too awful or too hopeless. It's easy to talk yourself into just accepting that everything will stay as it is, or keep getting worse, and there's nothing that's going to change that.
But can I challenge all of us with a single verse? "Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things" (-1 Corinthians 13:7). We are not called to self-preserve. We're called to follow the example of the One who gave everything, the One who is the very definition of what love really means. We're called to love a world that's broken, because He so loved us when we were broken beyond any repair but His mighty, healing, loving hand. We're called to bear all things, not just the pleasant things or the easy things or the bearable things. We're called to believe and to hope--not to accept that the way things are or the way things are going is the way it will always be, but to set our gaze on the horizon and look to the One who makes all things new. We're called to endure the here and now that are broken, that seem hopeless, that hurt just to look at.
As C.S. Lewis once said, "To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable."
Yes, love hurts. It's not safe. It's quite often the very opposite of what we instinctively want to do. We'd much rather sit around and watch as lives shatter around us, and cry out, "I called it! I knew things would turn out this way." It feels much safer to do that, than to actually get your hands and feet dirty wading into the darkness and the brokenness. It's much easier to deal with if you close yourself off and decide it's not your problem. It's easier to judge, it's easier to criticize, and it's easier to keep your expectations exactly at the bottom so that any slight change for the better shocks you.
I don't know about you, but I'd rather hope. I'd rather look into the eyes of hurting, confused, and broken people I know, and look for what God is planning to do in and through their lives. I don't follow a powerless, distant being, any more than I follow a distant, mighty puppeteer. I don't follow someone who sees it all and doesn't care. I follow the God who is the Father of Compassion, who holds all things in His power, and who chooses to use brokenness to bring about wholeness. Think about it: Jesus allowed Himself to be broken, so that we might be healed. He chooses to use us, without making us fully perfect (yet), to showcase His strength and perfection even in our weakness.
I'd rather look the brokenness in the face and feel the pain, feel the depth of the darkness and the weight of the odds stacked against anything good coming out of this--and listen for the whisper of a God who knows exactly how the story will play out, how healing will come, how His light will cast out the darkness and His love will conquer all the odds. I may not be the answer, but He always is. So don't tell me not to hope. Don't tell me to lay down and expect things to take a turn for the worst.
I will fight to hope, to love like He loves, until the day I die. I will let my heart be broken over and over and deeper and deeper, rather than closing it off until it becomes indifferent. I'm not on this earth for me.
"Let your love be strong, and I don't care what goes down. Let your love be strong enough to weather through the thunderclouds." -Switchfoot
However, there are some things I hope I never take lying down, and expecting the worst is one of them. Sure, it's a good way to avoid getting hurt. It's a great way to close yourself off into a place where emotions are easier to deal with, because that hope never gets to float very high off the sewage-infested ground level. And nine times out of ten, you will see exactly what you're expecting to see.
I overheard someone recently go on and on (and on) about how bad Memphis has gotten over the years. Every "better" neighborhood this individual has moved to has gradually gotten worse and worse until, according to this person, even their current area (which actually happens to be one of the nicest, cleanest, and safest areas in the entire city) has become "a slum." I could not make eye contact or even acknowledge that I'd overheard the comment. It made me both laugh at the level of ignorance of someone who obviously has no idea whatsoever what a slum actually is, and grieve at the level of cynicism and hypocrisy that were flowing out in those words.
It's easy to complain. It's easy to wall ourselves off from other people's pain or pretend their lives are less important than ours. It's easy to have a mindset of self-preservation and try to avoid facing things that are too hard or too scary or too awful or too hopeless. It's easy to talk yourself into just accepting that everything will stay as it is, or keep getting worse, and there's nothing that's going to change that.
But can I challenge all of us with a single verse? "Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things" (-1 Corinthians 13:7). We are not called to self-preserve. We're called to follow the example of the One who gave everything, the One who is the very definition of what love really means. We're called to love a world that's broken, because He so loved us when we were broken beyond any repair but His mighty, healing, loving hand. We're called to bear all things, not just the pleasant things or the easy things or the bearable things. We're called to believe and to hope--not to accept that the way things are or the way things are going is the way it will always be, but to set our gaze on the horizon and look to the One who makes all things new. We're called to endure the here and now that are broken, that seem hopeless, that hurt just to look at.
As C.S. Lewis once said, "To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable."
Yes, love hurts. It's not safe. It's quite often the very opposite of what we instinctively want to do. We'd much rather sit around and watch as lives shatter around us, and cry out, "I called it! I knew things would turn out this way." It feels much safer to do that, than to actually get your hands and feet dirty wading into the darkness and the brokenness. It's much easier to deal with if you close yourself off and decide it's not your problem. It's easier to judge, it's easier to criticize, and it's easier to keep your expectations exactly at the bottom so that any slight change for the better shocks you.
I don't know about you, but I'd rather hope. I'd rather look into the eyes of hurting, confused, and broken people I know, and look for what God is planning to do in and through their lives. I don't follow a powerless, distant being, any more than I follow a distant, mighty puppeteer. I don't follow someone who sees it all and doesn't care. I follow the God who is the Father of Compassion, who holds all things in His power, and who chooses to use brokenness to bring about wholeness. Think about it: Jesus allowed Himself to be broken, so that we might be healed. He chooses to use us, without making us fully perfect (yet), to showcase His strength and perfection even in our weakness.
I'd rather look the brokenness in the face and feel the pain, feel the depth of the darkness and the weight of the odds stacked against anything good coming out of this--and listen for the whisper of a God who knows exactly how the story will play out, how healing will come, how His light will cast out the darkness and His love will conquer all the odds. I may not be the answer, but He always is. So don't tell me not to hope. Don't tell me to lay down and expect things to take a turn for the worst.
I will fight to hope, to love like He loves, until the day I die. I will let my heart be broken over and over and deeper and deeper, rather than closing it off until it becomes indifferent. I'm not on this earth for me.
"Let your love be strong, and I don't care what goes down. Let your love be strong enough to weather through the thunderclouds." -Switchfoot
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Again.
This morning, I woke up earlier than usual and couldn't quite make it back to sleep. Feeling a bit restless, and wondering if I should write, I powered on my computer, and the first thing to greet me was a friend's blog post I had opened but left unread in my browser window from yesterday (I have a bad habit of doing that--pulling up blogs and other sites/articles and leaving them to read later). I haven't heard from her in quite a while, so instead of closing the window and opening the word processor, I began to read. And it broke my heart. What she had to share seeped into cracks that hadn't quite penetrated all the way to the point where the tears flow, and opened that place of grief, of pain, of knowing more fully that this world is not as it should be.
It's partially because she's not the first. I've had other friends, even people I grew up in church with, whose parents have divorced in recent years. Just last week, I found out that two good friends are in the process of a divorce. I'm not here to judge the motives or the hearts of any of these people, because I don't know them. Every divorce I've heard about has been between people I've not been in contact with in years. And it always leaves me thinking, "What happened?"
Because, I knew you (with the exception to the parents of the friend whose post I read earlier this morning). I saw the smiles, the laughter, heard the everyday comments that may have expressed annoyance or displeasure with something, but ultimately...I thought we were all on the same page. I thought you had committed to something that was only to be separated by death. Not by struggle, not by difficulty. Not even by sin. I thought you had, both of you, pledged to love eachother through the hard times, pledged to show Christ to one another, to walk through life together, as a team.
My heart aches for every divorce I hear about, even if those involved are complete strangers to me. Because if marriage is meant to be a representation of Christ and His Church, of two people laying down their lives for eachother just as Christ did for His Bride and just as we are called to for the sake of our King--then a separation of that just seems...unnatural. It feels like a fracture of everything our families and even our daily lives are founded upon.
We live in a broken, fallen world, and all is not as it should be.
If you don't believe me, look at the little boy joining a gang because it's the only place he's ever felt somewhat accepted; look at the girl trying to dress a certain way to feel beautiful and wanted in ways she doesn't; look at the foster kid who's been stripped of everything he's known and handed from one "home" to another because he's just too much trouble to put up with; look at the man standing on a street corner because "some bad choices" have alienated him from his family and there's no way they'll ever consider taking him back; look at the famous people overdosing on drugs or throwing their lives away on empty pursuits because not even money and acclaim can satisfy them.
I'm not saying family is the answer. I'm not even saying marriage or staying married is the answer. Because at the end of the day, there is only one answer, one solution, to this world's brokenness--and that is the One who makes all things new. The Redeemer. The Healer of broken hearts and severed lives. He will not abandoned us. He has not abandoned us. In our darkest hour, when our world caves in, He is here, He is whole, and He is able. When everything else in this world and this life fail us, He never changes. He alone is faithful. Nothing we could ever do can change Him or turn His hearts from us, because He loved us first.
He saw that divorce coming. And it grieved His fatherly heart, because no divorce comes without the unnatural pain of that severing, nor without devastating in some way all parties involved, including (and sometimes especially) the children. He does not delight in our suffering, but He most certainly walks with us through it. Because He is God. And He sees the end from the beginning. He knows it doesn't end here. He knows what He plans to reforge, and He knows how He will redeem every single sin and breakage and pain for our ultimate good and His ultimate glory.
If life were all sunshine and easy paths, if we had no obstacles and no heartbreak, we would never experience what it means to truly live. It's when we face adversity that we have a choice to make; to follow God even when we can't see where He's leading; to trust Him--or to go our own way based upon what we can see and what we feel capable of. It's when we chose the former that we see Him come through in ways we never imagined were possible. And it's when we chose the latter that we discover His grace truly is enough--that He is able to take even our worst mistakes and our most devastating failures, and forgive them, and walk with us through the consequences, and display His great love as He patiently bears with us in our weakness and shows us that He is faithful even when we repeatedly fail.
Our God is not daunted by evil. He's not terrified of our sin. He's not distant in our suffering. He is here, always. And I pray you come to know that in a deeper way, whoever you are, reading this right now. Whether you're in agony over your own life situations right now, or reeling from someone else's choices that have effected you, or simply looking for hope in a world that's so broken. Because we're all looking for hope. We're all in need of healing. We're all in need of a love that never fails.
And I for one have found what my soul longs for. There is peace in the storm and faith in the questions and hope in the pain, because Jesus Christ has proven Himself true, faithful, and able. Always. He is the Redeemer. I'm not saying it's easy; it almost never is. But it's worth it, to trust Him, to know Him, to see Him at work in this world. He is worth above and beyond all that He's ever asked me to trust Him with.
By His power at work within us and this world, one day all will be as it should be. Again.
He is able to make beauty from the ashes.
It's partially because she's not the first. I've had other friends, even people I grew up in church with, whose parents have divorced in recent years. Just last week, I found out that two good friends are in the process of a divorce. I'm not here to judge the motives or the hearts of any of these people, because I don't know them. Every divorce I've heard about has been between people I've not been in contact with in years. And it always leaves me thinking, "What happened?"
Because, I knew you (with the exception to the parents of the friend whose post I read earlier this morning). I saw the smiles, the laughter, heard the everyday comments that may have expressed annoyance or displeasure with something, but ultimately...I thought we were all on the same page. I thought you had committed to something that was only to be separated by death. Not by struggle, not by difficulty. Not even by sin. I thought you had, both of you, pledged to love eachother through the hard times, pledged to show Christ to one another, to walk through life together, as a team.
My heart aches for every divorce I hear about, even if those involved are complete strangers to me. Because if marriage is meant to be a representation of Christ and His Church, of two people laying down their lives for eachother just as Christ did for His Bride and just as we are called to for the sake of our King--then a separation of that just seems...unnatural. It feels like a fracture of everything our families and even our daily lives are founded upon.
We live in a broken, fallen world, and all is not as it should be.
If you don't believe me, look at the little boy joining a gang because it's the only place he's ever felt somewhat accepted; look at the girl trying to dress a certain way to feel beautiful and wanted in ways she doesn't; look at the foster kid who's been stripped of everything he's known and handed from one "home" to another because he's just too much trouble to put up with; look at the man standing on a street corner because "some bad choices" have alienated him from his family and there's no way they'll ever consider taking him back; look at the famous people overdosing on drugs or throwing their lives away on empty pursuits because not even money and acclaim can satisfy them.
I'm not saying family is the answer. I'm not even saying marriage or staying married is the answer. Because at the end of the day, there is only one answer, one solution, to this world's brokenness--and that is the One who makes all things new. The Redeemer. The Healer of broken hearts and severed lives. He will not abandoned us. He has not abandoned us. In our darkest hour, when our world caves in, He is here, He is whole, and He is able. When everything else in this world and this life fail us, He never changes. He alone is faithful. Nothing we could ever do can change Him or turn His hearts from us, because He loved us first.
He saw that divorce coming. And it grieved His fatherly heart, because no divorce comes without the unnatural pain of that severing, nor without devastating in some way all parties involved, including (and sometimes especially) the children. He does not delight in our suffering, but He most certainly walks with us through it. Because He is God. And He sees the end from the beginning. He knows it doesn't end here. He knows what He plans to reforge, and He knows how He will redeem every single sin and breakage and pain for our ultimate good and His ultimate glory.
If life were all sunshine and easy paths, if we had no obstacles and no heartbreak, we would never experience what it means to truly live. It's when we face adversity that we have a choice to make; to follow God even when we can't see where He's leading; to trust Him--or to go our own way based upon what we can see and what we feel capable of. It's when we chose the former that we see Him come through in ways we never imagined were possible. And it's when we chose the latter that we discover His grace truly is enough--that He is able to take even our worst mistakes and our most devastating failures, and forgive them, and walk with us through the consequences, and display His great love as He patiently bears with us in our weakness and shows us that He is faithful even when we repeatedly fail.
Our God is not daunted by evil. He's not terrified of our sin. He's not distant in our suffering. He is here, always. And I pray you come to know that in a deeper way, whoever you are, reading this right now. Whether you're in agony over your own life situations right now, or reeling from someone else's choices that have effected you, or simply looking for hope in a world that's so broken. Because we're all looking for hope. We're all in need of healing. We're all in need of a love that never fails.
And I for one have found what my soul longs for. There is peace in the storm and faith in the questions and hope in the pain, because Jesus Christ has proven Himself true, faithful, and able. Always. He is the Redeemer. I'm not saying it's easy; it almost never is. But it's worth it, to trust Him, to know Him, to see Him at work in this world. He is worth above and beyond all that He's ever asked me to trust Him with.
By His power at work within us and this world, one day all will be as it should be. Again.
He is able to make beauty from the ashes.
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Let's Be Dreamers
For as long as I can remember, I've been a dreamer. I've been able to look at something as-is, and see what could come of it, what it could turn into or become part of. The first evidences of this trait didn't bless my mom much--all kinds of crafts made of things like gum wrappers, toilet-paper tubes, leaves, and anything else I found ways to create things with. As I've grown older, it hasn't gone away; I see what most people look on as useless junk, and can often envision at least a couple good uses for it. It's the reason for a drawer in my room that holds what I term "useful stuff," but it also comes from something that runs much deeper in my soul.
We serve a God who looks at ruined and broken souls that have been completely crippled to the point of being worthless--and sees the plans He's had for us since before the world began. He did not create us to be wrecks or failures, and He is not discouraged when He sees us in our most depraved state. Why? Because He is in the business of bringing beauty out of ashes, of redeeming what seems long-gone and utterly lost, of creating again that which He has purposed for us all along. I know that because I've seen Him do it, in me and in others.
So forgive me if I get a little irritated when people try to tell me or anybody else that any of us possess any kind of beauty or power on our own, because when I came face-to-face with my Savior I also came face-to-face with the reality that He saw me at my ugliest and my weakest and my most hopeless, and He had still been pursuing me all along. He wasn't blind to my shortcomings and my sin; He knew (and knows) me better than I'll ever know or understand myself. But neither was He intimidated by my darkness.
You see, no matter how much it ever seems like the odds are stacked against redemption or hope, there has never been a moment where Light has lost to Darkness. Ever noticed that? Flip the light switch on, and you don't have to wait for the darkness in the room to retreat; the fight is over in an instant, because light trumps darkness. Even where there are shadows, they're usually not pitch dark, because the light reflects and refracts off of other things around and lightens even the shade (which is how you can still get a sunburn sitting in the shade on a sunny day). If you ask me, there is great significance to the fact that God compares Himself to light in the Bible. He is greater than every force of evil this world will ever know.
That being said, it would be easy for Him to snap His fingers and obliterate all evil in an instant, so why doesn't He? Because He has a much bigger and more beautiful design in mind, and because He sees potential where we don't.
I love rooting for the underdog. There is perhaps nothing more inspiring and victorious than seeing the most unlikely odds flipped on their head. And our God is in the business of doing just that sort of things. Let the odds be stacked against His plans; let darkness seem to gain the upper hand in the lives of man; let a turnaround look about as impossible as water springing up in the desert. We and even all creation look at that dry, cracked, crumbling ground and say it's a wasteland; nothing can grow there; there's no hope for life to happen here.
Enter the God who says He'll make rivers break forth in a dry and barren land (Isaiah 35) and flowers blossom in the desert wasteland. It's what He does: He brings life where before was only death. He takes lives ravaged and ruined by sin and breathes life into them, creating again a clean heart inside and reversing death's hold. He's not intimidated by the insurmountable odds we see; His vantage point is higher, and He sees the real odds: the odds that say darkness will never win out against Light when they come up against one another. He is stronger.
So in light of who He is and what He is capable of, how can we look at this world and say it's hopeless? Do you know your God? Do you know that He is aiming at redemption? Do you know that He's chosen you and me to be part of that process? If you ask me, it's amazing.
So let's not be afraid to dream. Let's not be intimidated by the darkness; let's instead lift our eyes to the Author of Light and ask Him to give us His vision for what is to come out of this desert land. And let's not shield our eyes or avert our gaze from the places--the hearts--overshadowed by darkness. Let's not pretend they're not there or that it's not our problem. If you are a child of the King, you are called to shine His light. Reflect it into that darkness. Let's not cower in fear of the darkness, giving into the apparent odds that it will swallow us too. If you have been rescued and redeemed, His Light lives in you. He is with you. And He will not be beaten. So don't fear--follow Him into the darkest dens of Hell on this earth and let His light shine until every shadow disappears. You may feel like one lonely and fleeting matchstick. Well, fire tends to spread. So burn bright.
Let's not be afraid to hope. Don't look at the situations and relationships you face and allow despair to overtake you. Look to the One who saw you at your worst and never turned away. Look to the One who never gave up on this mess, never saw my failure as proof He couldn't use me--the One who knew all along that He is more than enough for me and more than capable of somehow taking my brokenness and inability and using it for His glory, using it to draw me to Himself and show me how much I need to rely on Him and not myself.
I get sick of people cheering others on with things like, "Believe in yourself!" and "You can do it!" because the longer I live the more inescapably convinced I become of the fact that I am absolutely incapable of doing anything good or right on my own. I can't tell you how many times I've been talking to God and paused a moment to look at my own track record--a long line of mess-ups and failures and even well-intentioned blunders--and then at His track record--unending faithfulness and grace that is greater than all my sin, that is actually capable of taking all my failures and using them for good in a way only He can. He has taught me through every season, and drawn me closer to Him even in the midst of the worst storms.
I am a firm believer in the fact that I can't do anything good on my own. But I'm a firmer believer that God can do greater things in and through you and me than we can even imagine. I'm a firmer believer in His ability to redeem and restore and bring life from death, water and flowers from the desert wasteland. His Light shines into the darkness, and will not be overcome.
So let's not be afraid to believe Him, to believe in His ability to do what we cannot--that He can redeem what is lost, He can remake what is broken, He can bring life out of death.
"For everyone who has been born of God overcomes the world. And this is the victory that overcomes the world--our faith." -1 John 5:4
Let your faith look to Him. Rak khazak!!
We serve a God who looks at ruined and broken souls that have been completely crippled to the point of being worthless--and sees the plans He's had for us since before the world began. He did not create us to be wrecks or failures, and He is not discouraged when He sees us in our most depraved state. Why? Because He is in the business of bringing beauty out of ashes, of redeeming what seems long-gone and utterly lost, of creating again that which He has purposed for us all along. I know that because I've seen Him do it, in me and in others.
So forgive me if I get a little irritated when people try to tell me or anybody else that any of us possess any kind of beauty or power on our own, because when I came face-to-face with my Savior I also came face-to-face with the reality that He saw me at my ugliest and my weakest and my most hopeless, and He had still been pursuing me all along. He wasn't blind to my shortcomings and my sin; He knew (and knows) me better than I'll ever know or understand myself. But neither was He intimidated by my darkness.
You see, no matter how much it ever seems like the odds are stacked against redemption or hope, there has never been a moment where Light has lost to Darkness. Ever noticed that? Flip the light switch on, and you don't have to wait for the darkness in the room to retreat; the fight is over in an instant, because light trumps darkness. Even where there are shadows, they're usually not pitch dark, because the light reflects and refracts off of other things around and lightens even the shade (which is how you can still get a sunburn sitting in the shade on a sunny day). If you ask me, there is great significance to the fact that God compares Himself to light in the Bible. He is greater than every force of evil this world will ever know.
That being said, it would be easy for Him to snap His fingers and obliterate all evil in an instant, so why doesn't He? Because He has a much bigger and more beautiful design in mind, and because He sees potential where we don't.
I love rooting for the underdog. There is perhaps nothing more inspiring and victorious than seeing the most unlikely odds flipped on their head. And our God is in the business of doing just that sort of things. Let the odds be stacked against His plans; let darkness seem to gain the upper hand in the lives of man; let a turnaround look about as impossible as water springing up in the desert. We and even all creation look at that dry, cracked, crumbling ground and say it's a wasteland; nothing can grow there; there's no hope for life to happen here.
Enter the God who says He'll make rivers break forth in a dry and barren land (Isaiah 35) and flowers blossom in the desert wasteland. It's what He does: He brings life where before was only death. He takes lives ravaged and ruined by sin and breathes life into them, creating again a clean heart inside and reversing death's hold. He's not intimidated by the insurmountable odds we see; His vantage point is higher, and He sees the real odds: the odds that say darkness will never win out against Light when they come up against one another. He is stronger.
So in light of who He is and what He is capable of, how can we look at this world and say it's hopeless? Do you know your God? Do you know that He is aiming at redemption? Do you know that He's chosen you and me to be part of that process? If you ask me, it's amazing.
So let's not be afraid to dream. Let's not be intimidated by the darkness; let's instead lift our eyes to the Author of Light and ask Him to give us His vision for what is to come out of this desert land. And let's not shield our eyes or avert our gaze from the places--the hearts--overshadowed by darkness. Let's not pretend they're not there or that it's not our problem. If you are a child of the King, you are called to shine His light. Reflect it into that darkness. Let's not cower in fear of the darkness, giving into the apparent odds that it will swallow us too. If you have been rescued and redeemed, His Light lives in you. He is with you. And He will not be beaten. So don't fear--follow Him into the darkest dens of Hell on this earth and let His light shine until every shadow disappears. You may feel like one lonely and fleeting matchstick. Well, fire tends to spread. So burn bright.
Let's not be afraid to hope. Don't look at the situations and relationships you face and allow despair to overtake you. Look to the One who saw you at your worst and never turned away. Look to the One who never gave up on this mess, never saw my failure as proof He couldn't use me--the One who knew all along that He is more than enough for me and more than capable of somehow taking my brokenness and inability and using it for His glory, using it to draw me to Himself and show me how much I need to rely on Him and not myself.
I get sick of people cheering others on with things like, "Believe in yourself!" and "You can do it!" because the longer I live the more inescapably convinced I become of the fact that I am absolutely incapable of doing anything good or right on my own. I can't tell you how many times I've been talking to God and paused a moment to look at my own track record--a long line of mess-ups and failures and even well-intentioned blunders--and then at His track record--unending faithfulness and grace that is greater than all my sin, that is actually capable of taking all my failures and using them for good in a way only He can. He has taught me through every season, and drawn me closer to Him even in the midst of the worst storms.
I am a firm believer in the fact that I can't do anything good on my own. But I'm a firmer believer that God can do greater things in and through you and me than we can even imagine. I'm a firmer believer in His ability to redeem and restore and bring life from death, water and flowers from the desert wasteland. His Light shines into the darkness, and will not be overcome.
So let's not be afraid to believe Him, to believe in His ability to do what we cannot--that He can redeem what is lost, He can remake what is broken, He can bring life out of death.
"For everyone who has been born of God overcomes the world. And this is the victory that overcomes the world--our faith." -1 John 5:4
Let your faith look to Him. Rak khazak!!
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