Crushing Realities and the Comfort of a Faith That Is So Much More Than Wishful Thinking

About a year ago, I faced some really difficult circumstances in my personal and professional life. From time to time folks have asked me how I weathered those experiences and being put on the spot I found repeatedly that I did not have a good, succinct answer. I was asked again today and I decided that I needed to have a ready response. In the process of preparing one I came across something I wrote at the time of those trials. I wanted to share it here along with some more recent reflections and perhaps the person who spoke with me today will see this and draw some encouragement. It is a little personal for a blog like this, but here goes:

Written January 20th, 2005:
"The past year has impressed upon me the crushing weight of ordinary life. Last January (2004) I gave a talk to college students where I said 'even an ordinary life needs extraordinary hope.' My brother died suddenly that next week and [his death] became the first of a series of events that have not only left me emotionally depleted but disillusioned about my life's work. Being a pastor seems a bit like being a professional schizophrenic. On the one side we acknowledge the utterly corrupt nature of all people (even other pastors and ourselves) but also teach about the hope of God's redemption and even experiencing that redemption in this life. But then watch our own failings as pastors and as people break the very hearts we are seeking to bind up. The things we say seems just like so many words. I was praying with the man who has the awful task of pastoring me this past week. I was feeling fairly abandoned. In his prayer he spoke of God's promises... that I might know that I am a beloved son. In my mind I thought 'just words...and saying it doesn't make it true.' And as if he could hear my dismissive thought he then prayed 'But we need more than words... we need you to act.' I was overwhelmed with emotion as he said it.

"This life gives us crushing realities. The extraordinary hope that we all need is for God to act. I need that to be true and yet live with the doubt that wishing doesn't make it so."

A dark time, admittedly. In that moment, I was focused on the injustices and misfortunes that beset me. And while I welcomed the sympathy my friends expressed for me (and still find it a great comfort), I began to see in the next few months how tightly I held on to the people in my life and the dreams I had for serving God with distinction. When I finally lost the strength to hold on to these things, my first thought was that I was despised by men and God. Then I began to see that these 'things' had obscured my vision of grace and the source of my true comfort in this life... and ultimately in my own death: Christ himself.

How did I weather those times? Poorly, because I kept seeking a way to hold onto my brother and my ministry and seem godly in it all. I thought it was the sin of others that had brought these things into my life. While there may be some truth to that, it was ultimately the love of Christ that brought these trials to me.* "Your love is teaching me how to kneel" as one song goes. And in the kneeling we find again that Christ is indeed real. How do I know this? I could point to all kinds of proof of his own victory over death, but I see his work even in my own life... taking a beleaguered and frightened man and transforming him... not through ease but through pain... into a more humble and confident one. Not the probably outcome... perhaps not even a humanly possible outcome. My advice to those facing trials (and I don't write this lightly): embrace them and trust in the Lord's redemption, not only of your eternal soul, but also of your present pain. In the meantime, know that other brothers and sisters have gone before you and found the Father faithful... including your Savior.

*I in no way mean to communicate that we should rejoice that we suffer, but we can find comfort and joy in the fact that through suffering God works out His loving purposes for us.