Writers In The Storm

One advantage of being a football fan is that I get plenty of opportunities to partake of the wisdom of the sports analysts. Defensive schemes that don’t work and how to incorporate dink-and-dunk into the offensive plan. The nickel, three-four, four-three, crossing routes, finding the seam-the-crease-or-whatever discussions. But a few Sundays ago, when the Cowboys’ performance was dismal at best, I heard a nugget from Darryl “Moose” Johnston… probably borrowed from a preacher. “Adversity doesn’t build character, it reveals character.”

Some of us-the character-builder advocates-live our lives with the attitude that the harder life is, the better off we’ll be. The folks who herald this philosophy (cranky relatives and difficult bosses) often take it a step further. The harder I make life for everyone else, the better off they’ll be. They’ll thank me in the long run. And some of us adopt the attitude of embracing adversity in an attempt to attach some meaning to our pain.

Moose had it right-adversity reveals character. When things get tough, we find out what we’re made of, and it usually isn’t pretty. The unveiling almost always reveals depravity. Failings. Weak-heartedness and selfish motives. Sin. Less-than-admirable character.

But Moose also had it wrong. Adversity builds character, too. The Bible tells us that trials come to produce endurance. Consider Peter-adversity built, as well as revealed, his character. We see his weakness as he denies Christ, and we witness the new and improved Peter after going through his betrayal of the One he claimed to love. The testing produced an endurance that enabled Peter to become a leader in the early church-to display “the rock” of the profession of faith in Christ to a clueless world. Peter’s former failure launched his deep motivation to rely on Christ-he knew how far he could fall without clinging to Jesus.

When Moose made his sage comment during that first quarter football commentary, he left out some important points that most preachers would’ve emphasized. Hard times reveal our need for God. Sometimes we don’t turn to Him until our options are gone and He’s all that’s left. Difficulties also give God the opportunity to reveal Himself as a faithful Caregiver to His needy children, to woo us into a deeper intimacy with Him, and to give us a glimpse into the mystery of His ways. Adversity allows us to experience the deliverance of our majestic, mighty God.

Ah, the things we learn watching football.

(James 1, 1 Peter 1:6-9).

I have to admit-given the chance, I’ll take the easy way. The path of least resistance. I really don’t like to struggle. Just give me that big red easy button and life is good.

Don’t you ever wonder why God made life so hard? Why does He put us in difficult circumstances or allow us to experience pain? He spoke the world into existence in a matter of days-couldn’t He have devised that kind of system in developing our characters, in planning our lives? He’s obviously able-so why didn’t He?

I know, I know. It’s a mystery. That much I understand. I just haven’t been able to figure out why He chose suffering as a part of His wonderful plan for our lives. (Other than the trite clichés and well-worn platitudes that well-meaning friends offer us when we’re drowning-it builds character, it makes us stronger, it’ll help someone else along the way.)

My friend Sandy buried her husband of thirty-five years last week. My brother-in-law cried over his eighteen-year-old son’s casket last month. Last Monday I celebrated my mom’s seventy-second birthday without her. (I can’t imagine her with wrinkles-she’ll always be forty-three to me.) Each of our goodbyes were wrapped in more pain than any of us wanted to experience, yet God was involved in our heartache. He made the decision for each of our loved ones to return to Him and to be absent from us, knowing His decision would inflict suffering.

And still, He is good, and He intends the pain to work His goodness into our lives.

That’s where I want the easy button. I’d be just as appreciative if He’d deliver “good” into my life another way-probably more so, certainly with less distraction, if I wasn’t struggling with the bandages on my heart. I’m not always satisfied that He offers His grace instead of an easy fix.

His word assures us, though, that suffering is our bond-we’re children of God, fellow-heirs with Christ, and somehow He links sharing in His suffering to the process of glorification with Him. Mystery magnified.

But the story isn’t over. The time of the unveiling of His glory hasn’t arrived yet. When the time is right, He won’t need an easy button to make us understand. We’ll sigh in relief and understanding. We’ll even smile. Until that day, we trust. And we wait for our faithful Creator to do what is right.

(Romans 8:16-39; 1 Peter 4:12-19).

When we face overwhelming, painful circumstances, we typically don’t see our “Lazarus rise from the grave”-our loved one doesn’t sit up in his coffin and walk away from his own funeral, our illness worsens, and our dreams may shatter into a million tiny pieces. We believe. We ask. But whatever miracle we’re begging from God doesn’t happen. And we find ourselves groping for a God we don’t understand. How do we respond to the disappointments we face when Jesus doesn’t perform as we wish-when He doesn’t rescue us?

Disappointment with God is the place where our journey with Him begins. It’s at this place of resignation where we take the broken pieces of our life and lay them at His feet. Disappointment is where I no longer have expectations of the way my deity should behave, and my dreams are no longer punctuated with “Lord willing” because I’ve already discovered that He hasn’t been willing-at least not now, not my way. This place of broken emptiness is highlighted only by the certainty that God is faithful and God is good-and God defines what that goodness is. This is the place I begin a walk with Him, a walk where He tells me He is enough, and yes, He holds my hand even when my grasp fails.

Jesus invites us to bring our disappointments to Him, just as Jesus welcomed Mary’s disappointment and accusation-”If You had been here, this wouldn’t have happened.” In other words, “Where were You when I needed you?” Sometimes He is silent. (Mary heard no word for four days after Jesus was contacted.) Other times, He gently points out truths along the way. He cares, He is always present, and He’s doing something good. My responsibility is simply to trust Him.

When I’m disappointed with God, it’s usually a tip-off that my heart is clutching an expectation, or I’ve elevated a wish to the position of entitlement-God owes me. I’m continually amazed how graciously God woos my heart to Him when I become discouraged, when I begin to lose heart in my struggles.
Mary got her miracle. Thanks to Jesus, Lazarus walked out of the grave. But I’m convinced that Mary would’ve anointed Jesus’ feet with the most costly perfume even if Lazarus had remained in the grave, because we see evidence of her devotion before Lazarus rose-she fell at Jesus’ feet when He finally showed up. In the midst of her most overwhelming disappointment and in spite of the pain, her faith remained intact.

Mary reminds us-don’t sit in the chair of disappointment long. Move to the place of worship, first in laying the disappointment at His feet, then to sacrificing the most costly possession of our lives to Him-the broken pieces of our hearts. Three times we see Mary at Jesus’ feet: as she listens and delights in Him, then pours out her grief to Him, and later anoints Him with costly perfume as an act of worship, devotion, and sacrifice. Disappointment is a part of our journey with Him, the path that ultimately leads us to worship.

(John 11 and 12).

Go to JaymeDurant.com to see “Disappointment With God, Part 1″ and “Disappointment With God, Part 2″

Doctors embrace an oath to “first do no harm.” When they can’t figure out what’s wrong or the correct treatment, doctors fall back on this foundational principle. As Christians, we have a parallel, guiding principle—“corrupt no one.” Don’t be a stumbling block. Don’t cause someone else to trip and fall. Don’t violate someone else’s conscience. Don’t be an offense. Basically, don’t cause others to run from Christ.

When we committed our lives to Christ, we were called to glorify God. And in those early days, the zeal of grandiose plans to change the world caught us tripping on ourselves as we attempted to live out our newfound faith. Our older, more mature faith may be tempered by the wisdom of lessons learned through the years and failures that have yielded a more humble approach, but hopefully, our faith still soars to that level of wanting to seek His will, to obey His word, and to tell others about Him. But some days, all our feeble hearts may manage is a weak effort to “corrupt no one.” Fight our impulses to do our own thing our selfish way. Resist the flesh, our wishes and wants. Don’t discredit Jesus. Struggle.

The struggle of life isn’t always to do great things. Sometimes it’s simply to not get in God’s way, to not be a distraction from the cross. To get out of the way and let God shine, to let God make a difference in others’ lives. And to not mess up by losing heart and living in the flesh—to battle in the heart and the mind, where the struggle begins.

The struggle involves the “don’ts” of life—and more. To struggle well, we learn to lean on His grace moment by moment, to cry out for His help when we fall, to receive His grace in our impossible circumstances, to recognize He is the one who holds our hands and only He can enable and empower us to live for Him. Struggling well means we’ve learned to trust that God can somehow take this dust, this messed up broken life, and be glorified. Only God could do that impossible feat—to take the struggle of our flesh and create something He calls “good.”

We can learn from doctors—first do no harm. To others or the gospel. We may not know the right answers or be able to recall the perfect verse in a difficult situation. Our wants may get in the way of meeting someone’s needs. The pain we face may be too overwhelming to walk through triumphantly—we may feel lucky to have merely survived. Or the situation we encounter may be too complicated for anyone to sort out. But we can fall back on this foundational principle—do no harm. Corrupt no one. Struggle well.

“…giving no cause for offense in anything, in order that the ministry be not discredited… we wronged no one, we corrupted no one, we took advantage of no one….” (2 Corinthians 6:3, 7:2).