Getting in the Way of Progress

Broken glass image, courtesy Google Images

Why do you say, O Jacob, and speak, O Israel, "My way is hidden from the LORD, and my right is disregarded by my God'? Have you not known? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.

He does not faint or grow weary; His understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might He increases strength.

Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint. (Isaiah 40:27-31)

We see our brokenness. 

We struggle.

We fight.

We do everything we can think of to fix it (whatever it is). But we know that we must work it out if we want to be acceptable to those around us--or even ourselves.

It's not that we've chosen it, or that we find some twisted pleasure in it.

It happens. Jesus told us it would happen (John 16:33).

And when it does, we have a choice to make. And through our choices, we can strengthen our relationships ... 

... or break them. So choose carefully.

Throw in the towel and give up--forfeit--or dig in our heels and choose to stand our ground.

I have some encouragement for us. We aren't the first. We won't be the last. And we aren't alone. When we try to fix things on our own, we will inevitably make a mess. (I know, I am supposed to be encouraging us.)

A look through Scripture, we can learn how to avoid making catastrophic messes by reading the examples left for us. 

Let's look at our forefather, Abram (later Abraham), for example. He was visited by the Lord in Genesis and instructed to leave the land of his fathers, "2And I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing ... 7to your offspring I will give this land" (Genesis 12:2,7).

At the time of Abram's departure from Haran, he was 75-years old (Genesis 12:4). Mind you, Abram was also without children. His wife, Sarai (later Sarah), was barren (infertile)--a blight on her, socially, during that time.

Imagine the thrill Abram must have felt to be told by God that he would be a father.

What a promise!

I can imagine they must have felt feather-light, romance increased, intimacy no longer a strain, and nursery planning? No sweat.

And then the waiting began. Each month passed with no flutters of life in the womb. Months rolled into years. Then Sarai, knowing she was well past the years of childbearing and lost hope in being the one to birth the promised child, turned to Abram and encouraged him to take her maidservant to give him a son.

He listened to her. God's plan was back on track. Right?

"So, after Abram had lived ten years in the land of Canaan, Sarai, Abram's wife, took Hagar the Egyptian, her servant, and gave her to Abram her husband as a wife. And he went in to Hagar, and she conceived. And when she saw that she had conceived, she looked with contempt on her mistress" (Genesis 16:3-4).

Wrong.

It would not be until Abram was 99-years old that God changed his name to Abraham (father of many nations), and Sarai's to Sarah, while at the same time, God re-states His promise of a son, born through Sarah.

A year later, Isaac (meaning laughter) would be born, who later fathered Jacob, the father of the 12 tribes of Israel, through whom we receive our Savior, Jesus.

Does this mean Sarah lost faith in God?

I can't say for certain, but I sincerely don't believe so. We have borne in us a broken barometer that tells us we need to take matters into our hands--to help God's plan along. Some of us fall into the trap of "doing" rather than "being". 

Recently, my family has faced some trials that have had us scrambling for relief. And then I remembered a moment of time when I looked over the Detroit river with my 2-year old son in my arms, and believed I heard the Lord speak to my heart. Tragedies had struck our nation, and the proverbial domino effect hit our family. That day, I watched a barge make a U-turn in the river when I heard the words echo in my heart, "Like this barge, I will turn your family's struggles around."

I sit here, 24-years later. I have done everything I could to help God's plan. And I am exhausted. Wounds have been inflicted by well-meaning "friends," and I have stared into the Scripture with the words, "I believe, help my unbelief" (Mark 9:24).

Does this mean I've lost my faith? 

I don't believe so.

It's been 42-years since I stopped running from the Lord and allowed Him to begin piecing my broken heart back together. I've seen beautiful, exciting, powerful days, and I have seen heartache. I have experienced the pain of loss, disappointment, and disillusionment. I have suffered rejection and have put up a hand to protect myself from the same. Miraculous provision and unrealized dreams are no strangers to me. 

And yet, in the words of author George Mueller, "If the Lord fails me this time, it will be the first time."

I've told friends, that in days like these, I can relate to Peter and Job. The day many of Jesus's followers departed, he turned to His disciples and asked,

"Do you want to go away as well?" Simon Peter answered Him, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know, that You are the Holy One of God" (John 6:67-69).

And Job's response in the midst of his horrifying circumstances:

"Though He slay me, I will hope in Him ..." (Job 13:15)

We can always hope in Him. Even on our worst days, it is a good day when He is in it. 

"You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed upon you, because he trusts in you." (Isaiah 26:3)

 As the group CAIN sings, "on my best day, I'm a child of God. On my worst day, I'm a child of God."

Until next time, hold tight to the God who holds you in the palm of His hand. 

💜 Karlene J  💜

Seasons Past

Seasons, Courtesy Google Images

Memories. Words exchanged. Affections shared.

I couldn’t get them out of my heart if I wanted to. And I didn’t. Want to, that is.

But I knew it was time. Words from years ago fluttered into my thoughts. “Seasons come. Seasons go. New memories will form as you allow the old and dear to make room.”

I looked over and could see the row of faces I’d grown to love over the years. I didn’t want to let go. Change was as uncomfortable—to me—as hugging a porcupine; so, I avoided it as much as possible.

This time, though, I realized I couldn’t put it off any longer. Each face I saw, I embroidered into the fabric of my memory, hoping it wouldn’t fray in the years to come. I prayed for each one as I recalled how they’d grown into specific places of my heart. The temptation to reach back into the past and hold tightly to what was proved to be a force that slowed my forward pace. As uncomfortable as any change was, relinquishing my grip on history was harder still.

Then reminded of Paul’s exhortation that we forget “those things which are behind and reach(ing) forward to those things which are ahead …” (Philippian 3:13), and Isaiah’s words not to “remember the former things, nor consider the things of old” (Isaiah 43:18), which I believe he said because of the propensity of people to hold on when they should let go. I know I am like that, and I risk missing out on the promise from God that followed, “Behold, I will do a new thing, now it shall spring forth … I will even make a road in the wilderness and rivers in the desert …” (Isaiah 43:19)

If I could, I’d take a snapshot of each memory and place it in a scrapbook with the story of our time together, like the canoe trip down the Au Sable River that damp, gray October day, while Mom watched the babies. We couldn’t keep the boat upright. We carried it down the river more than floated in it. I don’t think we got rid of the chill in our bones for weeks after that. Tahquamenon Falls was gorgeous, but the days leading to our visit would always serve as a reminder that God cares about the details.

We’d saved the entire year for our 21-day excursion around the Great Lakes. That summer, news flashed daily about wildfires in Newberry, Michigan. Plenty of lightning and too little rain kept this one smoldering. Before going, I’d prayed, asking God to send rain. Once we finished setting up camp at Tahquamenon Falls River Mouth, I heard the challenge in the back of my mind: “Are you going to ask for rain and remain uncovered?” –We’d left the fly off the tent so we could see the stars. That night—or I should say early morning—I was awakened by a clap of thunder, followed by heavy rain. The sun shone during the day, and it rained at night, during our entire 7-day stay.

I paused right there as I realized that if I wanted to see the Lord continue to show His strength, if I wanted to hold onto His gifts for tomorrow, if I was eager to walk into the “promised land” He’d set before me, I must relinquish my grip on what once was.

The season has passed. A new season has begun, and I (we) are invited to take joy in its beauty.

Adapted from Season's Passed, (2019)

Until next time, walk in the light of His love and grace. 

💜 Karlene J 💜