Sometimes in life we feel like we’re in a place of dryness, a place of little hope, or of hope deferred.
Sometimes situations can look like a desert with no end:
I’ve been feeling a little blue about money the past few days. And I know that a lot of people are probably in a similar place right now, many are out of work or lost a good chunk of their savings in the economic downturn this past year. And while I could sit here and list all the reasons why my situation is worse, or enumerate all of the bills I can’t afford to pay, I know that some where out there, someone else has it even harder than me.
So instead of getting into the mode of ‘poor me’, (I’m tired of that!) I want to sit back, take stock, do a little navel gazing, and ask myself, where is God in all of this? What is He doing? How is He using this season of my life to make me into a better person? What am I meant to learn in this desert part of my journey? What tender morsel of wisdom is there for me to feed on in this dry place?
Well, this morning I feel like I got my answer. My husband’s aunt Gita gave us a wonderful little book called ‘Streams in the Desert’. So feeling rather humble and open to any nugget of wisdom I could lay my hands on, I opened this book over coffee today and read this:
“Do not pray for easy lives! Pray to be stronger men [and women]. Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers. Pray for powers equal to your tasks. Then the doing of your work shall be no miracle, but you shall be a miracle.”
–Phillip Brooks
Over the last year, I have been continually praying for God to give me rest. I even did a painting about it:
It’s a painting of the proverbial Eve character (sort of my archetype for the female race). In this painting, she is healed, redeemed, at rest, and bearing fruit in her life with little effort. Indeed, she is bearing fruit (doing good things) because she is at rest and in deep trust in the one who made her.
I believe that we all long for a life that is at ease, rest, and trust in something greater than ourselves. We all long for security and peace. How do we arrive at that true rest? Is it by having all of life’s obstacles and hardships removed? My human nature wants to think that this is the case. But deep down, I know that it is through hardship that we learn. Like good old Ben Franklin said, “That which hurts, instructs.”
Or to put it another way:
“God will make obstacles serve His purpose. We all have mountains in our lives. There are people and things that threaten to bar our progress in the Divine life. Those heavy claims, that uncongenial occupation, that thorn in the flesh, that daily cross–we think that if only these were removed we might live purer, tenderer, holier lives; and often we pray for their removal. Oh fools and slow of heart! These are the very conditions of achievement; they have been put into our lives as the means to the very graces and virtues for which we have been praying so long.
You have prayed for patience through long years, but there is something that tries you beyond endurance; you have fled from it, evaded it, accounted it an unsurmountable obstacle to the desired attainment, and supposed that its removal would secure you immediate deliverance and victory. Not so! You would gain only the cessation of temptations to impatience. But this would not be patience. Patience can be acquired through just such trials as now seem unbearable.”
And to put into my specific situation (and perhaps yours too): If I were suddenly given a fortune, I would gain only the cessation of temptations to have anxiety and worry. But this would not be true rest, peace, and trust in God. It would merely be trust in money. But money can always go away, it can always be lost; and that is what many have learned in this last year who have amassed wealth through investments–it can be gone in a flash.
But God has promised us “I will never leave you or forsake you”. True rest (and true trust in God) can only be acquired through just such trials as now seem unbearable. When every worldly thing you might count on is taken, then the doors open for you to finally start to truly trust in your maker.
So that is where I am today. And it’s storming outside right now. Rain falls softly and thunder rolls in the distance, and I can’t help but wonder if this is a symbol of quenching my thirst in the desert. I am hoping and praying for a silver lining. I am ready to trust in the only one who is totally trustworthy.
I am reminded now of lyrics from one of our songs called “Walking”. For the first time, I feel like I really understand that song.
And I wonder if the third verse and last chorus is actually God speaking:
“And I see who you are now, your heart’s on your sleeve.
So let me ask you now do you believe we can achieve the impossible?
I feel we must achieve the impossible.
If you want it, it will come to you.
Don’t you want peace to achieve the chance we may fall?
Life is what you wish your days to be.”
So I’m going to start my day with an image of God’s covenant, an image of hope. On my wedding day, there were 3 rainbows–two in Scotland where Evan and I were married, and one in Cincinnati. And on days when I’ve been sad, God has brought me more rainbows to remind me that He is with me.
