Month: July 2018

I have lived with weariness and pain and sleepless nights. 2 Corinthians 11:27

These words were written by the apostle Paul. But maybe you could have written them. I know I could have. And in those weary seasons, night after sleepless night, it certainly seemed like it would always be that way. Like weariness and pain had moved in and were never going to leave.

The thing about weariness is it wears you down. It saps your strength. In those seasons, we need something to give new power to our weakening grip on hope. An infusion of courage. Fresh strength in the face of pain and grief.

Paul mentioned his weariness as part of a list of terrible situations he had faced – hunger, thirst, hypothermia, disaster, danger, beatings, attempted murder. In spite of all that opposition, all that resistance, he kept doggedly pressing forward. He refused to give up.

And Paul had something to say about that, too. It’s completely obvious that we can’t do this on our own. It’s clear that someone much greater than us – God Himself – is the one who is working through us (2 Corinthians 4:5). This led him to a truly astonishing statement – “I am quite content with my weaknesses and with insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities” (2 Corinthians 12:10).

I don’t know about you, but I am not content with weakness or hardship or calamity. It’s not a place I want to be. I don’t want to hang out with them. But God let Paul in on a secret – his weakness was the perfect medium to highlight God’s strength. Paul’s not-enoughness set the stage perfectly to shine the spotlight on God’s more-than-enoughness.

Could it be that this is true for us today? Is it possible that our trouble and trial and tragedy is the place we will see our Savior most clearly? The light is dazzling in the weary darkness of a sleepless night.

The thing is, Jesus isn’t some spiritual energy drink that gets us through the 3:00 slump. He is the Savior. He’s the Rescuer. He’s the Victorious Risen One. He’s much more than an uplifting plaque on the wall. So when Paul says, “I can do everything with the help of Christ who gives me the strength I need” (Philippians 4:13), he means everything. He knows what he’s saying because he’s been through a lot. He can face any situation. He can endure any trial. His grip on hope is secured by the strength of God Almighty Himself.

Maybe you could have written those words, too. I know I could have. If you’ve chosen to believe that Jesus is who He says He is, then His mighty power is at work on your behalf as well (Ephesian 1:19).

We can’t get here until we come to the complete and humble understanding that we can’t do this. This thing is too hard, too big, beyond me. Like Paul facing overwhelming opposition. Or Philip faced with the challenge of feeding 5000 men and uncounted women and children. He looked at the need, looked at the resources, and said, “Even if we tried, we couldn’t do it!” (John 6:7) Our not-enoughness reminds us that we need someone with infinitely more than we possess.

This is the point at which we choose. We can believe that God will do what we have not yet seen Him do. He keeps His promises. He is with us wherever we go. He is sufficient to meet any and every need. If we could truly believe that, nothing would be impossible (Matthew 17:20). Weariness, pain, troubles and tragedies would be powerless in the face of the unmatched power of Christ at work in us and on our behalf.

We could echo Paul once again – “I have strength for all things (yes, all things. Even this thing.) in Christ who empowers me. I am ready for anything and equal to anything through Him who infuses inner strength into me” (Philippians 4:13 AMP).

There is a grief, a wound raw and bleeding. An ache for which there are no words. A moment that will mark you forever.

Lost! Lost! All is lost! it cries and it feels as though it must always be so. That is a lie. Do not agree with it. Do not allow it to take up residence in your mind, in your heart. You are not lost. You are not beyond reach or rescue.

But where has hope gone?

It’s been buried under the avalanche. May it be planted, take root in the unseen darkness and burst forth one day with sudden and surprising joy. One day may you find that the winter is past and the spring has come. Your ashes are beautiful. Your lament is a praise-song. All things have been made new – including you.

Our present troubles are quite small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us an immeasurably great glory that will last forever! So we don’t look at the troubles we can see right now; rather, we look forward to what we have not yet seen. For the troubles we see will soon be over, but the joys to come will last forever.  2 Corinthians 4:17-18

This trouble is short-lived, fleeting, temporary. It will not last forever. (Yes! It’s true!!) And it’s doing something behind the veil of your tears, something indescribable. This thing that has torn your world apart is actually working underneath the surface producing, forming, creating. The fruit is immeasurably great glory.

And not just any old glory, but a glory that will not end. An eternal weight, exceedingly abundantly more, beyond comparison to anything we can imagine. It may be hard to believe now, but you do not know yet the happiness of which you are capable.

The joys to come, the happiness we can’t imagine, are never going to end.  They’re ours forever, kept for us, “pure and undefiled, beyond the reach of change and decay” (1 Peter 1:4). It’s a treasure that can’t be stolen (Matthew 6:20). It’s far more valuable than mere gold or gems. Better than fertile farmland or a thousand head of cattle. Better. More. Not without worth but beyond price. It’s the salvation of your soul (1 Peter 1:9).

It’s abrasion that polishes gemstones. It’s pressure that creates diamonds. It’s fire that purifies gold. The oyster bathes its wound layer after layer until it produces a pearl. Oh if only we could see what great treasures He is making of us as we sit in the darkness!

Sometimes the path to where we’ve always wanted to be leads directly through the place we never wanted to go. We travel through the desert, the wilderness, the darkest valleys before finally meeting God at the mountain of desolation. All of it – yes, all of it – is creating something incomprehensibly more than we can imagine.