FAITH AND WEAKNESS

"Brothers, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him. It is because of him that you are in Christ Jesus, who has become for us wisdom from God—that is, our righteousness, holiness and redemption." (I Corinthians 26-30).

I've always wanted to conduct a survey on the following question: What is the hardest aspect of your walk with Christ?

I often wonder what others struggle with the most? Is it doubt or greed? Lust? Pride? Insecurity? Busyness? Worry?

For me, it is discouragement. Even after walking with the Lord for 20 years, I battle daily to remain encouraged in the Lord. How I wish I were different—stronger, more assured. Yet, whether it's my temperament or personality, my upbringing or fallen flesh (most likely a combination of all of these), the truth is I often find it difficult to feel the joy of the Lord.

I was recently reading a book that listed several verses where Christ had healed people "according to their faith." The study seemed to imply that physical healing was a direct result of the measure of each one's faith. Of course, I began to bristle because I've suffered extremely harsh medical problems for the last several years, and the passage made me wonder if I was somehow lacking.

That thought prompted to me reread Hebrews 11—the great "hall of fame" of the faithful. And I was relieved to find that as I reviewed the expressions of faith demonstrated by the saints of old, not one example of physical healing was mentioned. Proof of faith had more to do with obedience, sacrifice, and believing the word of God, despite the trials of life, with an attitude of long-term perseverance rather than expectation of immediate answered prayer.

I am not suggesting that healing does not result from faith, but simply that when physical healing does not take place, it is not a qualifier of the depth of one's faith.

Is there room for the weak of heart in God's Kingdom? I Corinthians surely implies that there is. For it is our weaknesses that "showcase" the glory of God's power. Even for those of us who find it difficult to keep pressing forward in bold confidence, the fact that we continue to press on at all may speak volumes of faith to a spiritual realm of observers that we cannot perceive right now.

"For it seems to me that God has put us apostles on display at the end of the procession, like men condemned to die in the arena. We have been made a spectacle to the whole universe, to angels as well as to men." (I Corinthians 4:8-10).

So where does that leave the "faint-hearted?" Instead of trying to muster up a strength that we do not possess, perhaps our response should simply be a petition, asking the Lord to encourage us despite our weakness.

What is the hardest aspect of your walk with Christ? If you would like to share, please feel free to send in your comment.

Dear Lord,

I confess that I am weak. So often I struggle with discouragement, fear and doubt. My circumstances and trials wear me down and deplete my ability to be a bold witness of Your love. I pray that You would fill me with Your power to overcome this weakness—to conquer the battle of defeat in my mind and make of me a conqueror, filled with joy, to Your glory. For "the joy of the Lord is our strength." (Nehemiah 8:10).

GOD SPEAKS IN DREAMS

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I found myself in large, unfamiliar building—a museum perhaps. As I rounded a corner, I happened across a white stone statue of the virgin Mary. Slowly, I raised my camera to shoot a picture when I was struck with a sudden, deep sense of dread that took my breath away. Something was warning me that I was about to do the wrong thing.

Quickly I turned away from the statue and found myself standing on a balcony, looking down at a young woman perched on the edge of a large body of water. She was screaming . . . so loudly that I could see the tonsils in the back of her mouth. Her feet were working frantically to run, but something unseen was holding her in place. All the while the kicking motion created splashes that rippled across the breadth of the water.

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I woke up abruptly, the dream still vivid in my head. My heart thudded with fear. Beyond a shadow of a doubt I knew the dream meant something important—that it held some spiritual significance. But what? I couldn't get the woman's face out of my mind. I felt sorry for her—so terrified, yet unable to flee.

A month or so later, I called a good friend, Paula, and asked if I could meet with her for prayer. I was feeling desperate and down from months and months of unresolved medical problems, and I felt the need to act—to do something, anything, to help myself. Maybe the effective prayers of a few righteous women would avail a healing, in one way or another.

A few days later, I met with Paula and her friend Jeanne…a noted prophetic and powerful prayer warrior. I shared my medical story with Jeanne and ended with a recount of my recent unnerving dream. Her response took me by surprise.

"Sometimes the Lord shows us what's going on in the spiritual realm through our dreams," Jeanne said, "And I think that you are battling with a religious spirit."

At first her words stung. What was she saying . . . that I was a "religious" person but lacked real faith? Even more, I am not a big fan of mystical Christianity. I don't look for signs or seek wonders; I'm not comfortable with talking about such things as demonic influence or deliverance. I've always taken a more practical approach to faith . . . relying upon scipture, rather than experience, to form my beliefs. I did believe that God could work miracles at His will, or impart information to us through any means that He chose, but I just wasn't prone to search for such things. Still, I sensed that Jeanne was saying something God wanted me to hear.

Lord, help me to be open to whatever You are doing. Help me not to be too rigid or to reject something You might want to do. Please help me know the truth.

Then it dawned on me how as a child I had been raised in a very religious, liturgical church. Even though I left that church at the age of 13, and 15 years passed before I became a Christian at the age of 28, perhaps some religious seed had been lodged in my soul and needed uprooting.

The two women prayed mightily over me that day—for healing, for wisdom, for hope and for freedom from a religious spirit. I left there feeling thankful but uncertain of what to expect. Mostly I was afraid that nothing would change at all, but I tried to cling to God's promise in Matthew 18:20: "For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them."

A couple weeks later, still troubled by Jeanne's words, I shared the event and the dream with another friend. "Do you think I am just religious person?" I asked. "No," he said. "That's not what I think she meant at all. It's just that you have a tendency to feel guilty a lot. I don't know where that comes from . . . whether it's from your upbringing or what. But you tend to weigh your faith . . . your sins on one side and your obedience on the other. But it's by grace that you're saved."

As he spoke, a light went off in my head. I literally saw a scale in my mind's eye. Suddenly I completely understood the dream as well as Jeanne's interpretation. Deep inside me, I had come to believe that God was punishing me with medical problems for sins I'd committed in the past. Somewhere along the line, I had allowed fear to cloud my heart and to define my standing before God.

Christianity is not about doing enough right to outweigh the wrong. And I knew that . . . but I had wandered from the truth. The challenges of suffering had clouded my perspective. I knew that I needed to return to my first love . . . to set my face toward the fact that God is faithful to His promise to pardon all our sins—past, present and future--in Jesus Christ!

In that moment, a true healing had begun. More than a physical crisis, I had been suffering from a crisis of faith. But no more. I determined that day to focus on God's promise that despite what I suffered in this world, my salvation was secured on the cross. I could not follow the lie that my trials were signs of God's displeasure. Yes, obedience is the goal . . . but obedience is not the fee. Salvation is a gift.

"God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." (2 Corinthians 5:21).

A PRAYER ON SUFFERING

"I ask you neither for health nor for sickness, for life nor for death; but that you may dispose of my health and my sickness, my life and my death, for your glory...You alone know what is expedient for me; you are the sovereign master; do with me according to your will. Give to me, or take away from me, only conform my will to yours. I know but one thing, Lord, that it is good to follow you, and bad to offend you. Apart from that, I know not what is good or bad in anything. I know not which is most profitable to me, health or sickness, wealth or poverty, nor anything else in the world. That discernment is beyond the power of men or angels, and is hidden among the secrets of your Providence, which I adore, but do not seek to fathom."

A Prayer by Blaise Pascal taken from Philip Yancey's

Where is God When it Hurts?

Sometimes...probably most times...we cannot explain the suffering in our lives. Naturally we ask why? And we struggle through a process only to reach a place where we finally understand that we simply cannot understand. And that is enough.

"The secret things belong to the LORD our God . . . " (Deuteronomy 29:29).

GOD'S PROVISION IN SUFFERING

One evening at sundown, while sitting on my front patio and enjoying the quiet of the neighborhood, a most unusual scene unfolded before my eyes.

It began with the sound of a persistent twitter. All sorts of species of birds lived in the area and frequented our backyard bird feeder, but this particular chirp was distinct--an incessant chatter without break.

I looked upward to locate the source and spotted the cutest little brown, plump-bellied bird, his tail cocked in an upright position. He was delicately perched on the tip of a tree limb. Fascinated, I watched as he twitched his head all about and delivered a melodic series of notes that sounded somewhat anxious. I couldn't help wondering if somehow my presence on the patio was causing him distress.

Suddenly, without warning, the little guy leaped from the branch and flew straight into a hanging basket over my head. I was stunned. Were my eyes playing tricks on me?

Slowly, I rose to my feet and cautiously peered into the basket. There, tucked safe and sound within a burrow of Spanish moss, was the little bird, peering back at me, most likely in trepidation. Precious! The sight of him warmed my heart to the core. I realized then that my presence had, most likely, intruded upon his need to make it safely into his bed.

The following day, still intrigued with the whole event, I deliberately sought out my patio just a few moments before sundown, hoping the little bird would return. Sure enough, like clockwork, he appeared and proceeded to conduct the same ritual of song and dance before plopping straight into his makeshift nest for the night. Once again my heart was tickled!

For the next several weeks, just as the sun was beginning to set, my family and I would gather around our front door and peer through the blinds in anticipation of our little friend's arrival. And faithfully, night after night, we were rewarded with his endearing display, and we counted ourselves blessed for a front row view of one of God's sweetest creations. Eventually, a mate joined the nest. Later, we learned from our bird book that they were Carolina Wrens, and at that point we affectionately named them Twitter and Tweety.

All the while in my spirit I sensed that God was using this unusual occurrence to catch my attention and impart a specific word to me. I know that may sound silly, but if God can use a donkey to speak to Balaam (Numbers 22:28) and a large fish to swallow the wayward prophet, Jonah, (Jonah 1:17), certainly He can use a bird to speak to His child.

"Therefore, I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?" (Matthew 6:25-26).

Eventually, with the turn of the season, the wrens disappeared, never to return again. We were sad to see them go; how quickly they had wormed their way into our heats and had become a frequent topic of conversation at our dinner table. But the words of God's reminder remained forefront in my thoughts for a long time.

A few months later, my medical problems peaked and forced me out of my job. Although panic tried to seize my heart, God reminded me of His gentle messengers and His endless promise to always care for and provide for His children.

"Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs on your heard are all numbered. So don't be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows." (Matthew 10:29-31).

SUFFERING AND REGRET

"Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 3:13-14).

LOOKING BACK

Sometimes when we suffer, we get hung up in looking back . . . back to a time before the pain began . . . back to a time when life was simpler . . . back to the moment when we made a bad decision and would give anything for the chance to do it over.

Sometimes we tend to dwell on the past, mulling over what we should have done differently in order to avoid our present pain. We think that perhaps if we had obeyed God when He tried to get our attention on a matter, or perhaps if we had sought God more heartily when we were happier, then we wouldn't be suffering now.

But looking backward is a double-edged sword—it has the potential to become either a blessing or a curse, depending on how long we allow our thoughts to linger.

Life, for everyone, is filled with mistakes. But God, in His mercy, grants second chances (and thirds, and fourths, etc.). Mercy calls us to look back just long enough to repent, if we need to, and to LEARN so that we can move forward. But looking back through the lens of regret is a snare of the enemy designed to block our progress.

We can learn more about looking back from a few examples in Scripture:

....Before God sent judgment upon the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, He sent two angles to lead Lot and his wife to safety. The angels warned them not to look back; however, Lot's wife did look back, and she instantly turned into a pillar of salt. (Genesis 19:23-26).

....When God delivered the Hebrew children from Egypt and they encountered a time of testing in the wilderness, their hearts began to look back...to long for the food they had formerly eaten. With this God was displeased. Inevitably the Hebrews were unable to enter the Promised Land because they refused to look forward in faith. (Numbers 11:1-6).

....When the teachers and the Pharisees brought a woman caught in adultery to Jesus, hoping He would punish her, instead Jesus forgave her and said, "Go, and leave your life of sin." (John 8:1-11). In other words: MOVE FORWARD NOW.

FOREGET WHAT IS BEHIND

If anyone had reason to look back and regret, it was the Apostle Paul who had persecuted the church of Christ, ordering Christians to their deaths. Later, Paul beseeched God to remove a painful "thorn" from his side, but God refused, reminding Paul that His grace was sufficient for Paul to move forward. What if Paul had taken God's refusal as a sign that he was not forgiven? That he was unuseable? That he wasn't right with God?

Instead Paul embraced God's words in faith and continued to move forward with the work God had called him to. Had Paul done otherwise, he would have missed out on the high calling of writing what would eventually become a major portion of the New Testament.

We will never be able to move forward in our lives until we are first able to move forward in our minds, accepting our trials not as obstacles that hold us back, but as opportunities to discover the grace of God.

"Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death." (2 Corinthians 7:10).

THE CUP OF SUFFERING

"If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it" (Luke 9:23-24).

What crosses do you bear daily?

Some people bear crosses that require subtle acts of patience—refraining from snapping back at someone who offends or holding one's temper in an exhaustinly long line at the bank. Others bear crosses that call for simple acts of kindness—running an errand for a spouse who is exhausted, or yielding to another car in heavy traffic.

Every decision to prefer someone else's needs above our own, to relinquish our "rights" and yield to the ways of God, becomes a practical altar of sacrifice to the Lord.

Still there are other crosses that are not as easy to bear, crosses that we don't choose for ourselves, rather they are assigned to our lives and reveal the level of our faith in Christ. Sometimes these crosses are called our "lots in life." They are often characterized by circumstances or conditions we find ourselves powerless to change, despite our greatest efforts or prayers. These crosses are the "thorns in our flesh" that produce chronic pain, be it low grade or overtly disabling. Jesus warned us of these crosses and how they are a mark of the Christian life.

Anyone who has suffered for a prolonged period of time knows the anguish of soul that is born out of deep adversity. Our natural inclination is to escape our crosses. If we could, we would throw them off of our backs (unlike the One who willingly carried His to save our lives). But if we refuse to allow God to bear the load with us, we will experience a crisis of faith.

How do we refuse God? By avoiding Him when we are in pain. By becoming rooted in anger and bitterness. By demanding our way. By turning inward instead of upward. By fixing our eyes on the storm instead of fixing our eyes on the Lord.

Consider the night of Jesus' arrest. When a league of rebels tried to seize Him, the Apostle Peter cut off the ear of the high priest’s servant with a sword. Christ knew full well the atrocities to come, yet instead of commending Peter for his allegiance He rebuked His disciple and said, "Put your sword away! Shall I not drink the cup the Father has given Me?” (John 18:11).

When we suffer, do we agree to drink the cup God has assigned us? Or do we expect to drink only cups of blessings and joy?

For our faith to mature, we must come to the place where, like Christ, we are willing to accept our unchangeable "lots" and to embrace our crosses by seeking God for the strength, courage and faith to believe that in Him, death always leads to life.

SUFFERING AND PRAYER

Friendship With God

“Life without a friend is death without a witness.” --Eugene Benge

Who is your best friend? How would you describe the qualities of a good, deep and lasting friendship?

I have been blessed throughout my life with some really wonderful friends—friends in whom I have been able to confide my deepest and sometimes darkest thoughts—and yet they have stood by me and always will.

In the most difficult times of my life, these dearest friends are the ones whom I run to with my problems because I know that they understand me. More times than not, they don’t have the solutions to my problems . . . but that’s not why I go to them. I go because I need them to listen, to care, to help carry my heavy load in this world, if even for just a few minutes. And I know they will pray for me.

When a friend allows us to reveal who we really are, without fear of rejection or condemnation, then they validate our worth. In essence, their listening says, “you matter.” We all need to know that we matter, especially when we are suffering and undergoing difficult times. Knowing that we matter gives us the strength to push forward, even when we don’t know where the road is leading.

It took me a long time to realize that God is not only my Father, but my friend. During the darkest days of my medical afflictions, months of unresolved problems drained every ounce of energy or determination to go on, and I spent hours on my knees before God beseeching Him to heal me, to deliver me, to tell me what I needed to do or to say differently so that He would respond. Without realizing it, I had compounded my own suffering by believing that God wanted me to change something in my life, something in myself, before granting my petition. I turned myself inside out looking for that one elusive black mark to eradicate and nearly drove myself crazy in the process.

Then one day, while on my knees, I was getting ready to offer up my same old requests to the Lord—"God, please heal me." "God please deliver me." "God, please show me why this is happening to me."

I was so tired. Finally, I just said, “Lord, I’m just too weary to confess, to ask, or to pray. I just need to talk—to tell you how I feel.”

Suddenly I heard that still small voice say, "Are you seeking the blessings, or are you seeking the Blesser?

Stunned, I slowly proceeded to freely unload . . . to share with God as I would with my best friend. I didn’t ask for anything; I didn’t try to please. I simply let my words gush forth from the deep well of a broken heart.

When I was done, I felt more refreshed, more relieved than I had in months. And I was struck with a new realization: That was exactly what God had wanted me to do . . . to simply enjoy the Blesser.

From that day forward, my perspective toward prayer changed. I finally understood that in spending so much time asking God for things, I was missing out on the deeper reason that God had created me as His child. I am not implying that we should not ask God for things. In fact, we are told by God, Himself, to do just that.

But prayer is much more than asking. It is more than praising. Prayer in its simplicity is to commune with the Living God and to discover the joy of His fellowship as we relate to Him, even as a friend.

“No longer do I call you servants, for a servant does not know what his master is doing; but I have called you friends, for all things that I heard from My Father I have made known to you.” (John 15:15).