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).

Mount Greylock, MA ( Byways.org)

ONE STEP AT A TIME

One of the fondest memories of my younger years was the summer that I interned as a park ranger at Mount Greylock State Reservation in the Berkshire Mountains. The summit, which tops off at 3,491 feet, is the highest point in Massachusetts and offers a breathtaking view of five states.

I was looking for a serious adventure that summer, so I decided to pitch a tent in the campgrounds and rough it for three months—alone. Nothing stirs my senses more than being submerged in nature. The subtle snapping of a tree limb in the stillness of the woods, the pungent aroma of pine mingled with earth, the prickly sting of cool mountain air on bear skin, the taste of food cooked over an open fire all made for an exhilarating experience, except for one minor detail . . . the out house!

In the mountains, the sun descends early giving way to a thick blanket of darkness at night. Without fail, no matter how hard I tried to avoid it, every evening I would have to trek 100 yards through the woods in order to relieve myself. On cloudy nights, with no moon or stars to light the way, this became a particularly nerve-wracking experience. I was acutely aware of the potential dangers lurking out there—bear, bob cat, skunks and porcupines.

My only source of navigation was a flashlight. Even then, it was impossible to see beyond a few feet at a time. All I could do was plod forward, trusting the light to lead me to my destination. Yet, in the back of mind was the gnawing fear that if the batteries died mid-journey, I’d be hopelessly lost in the dark.

Learning God's Ways

More than two decades have now passed, yet the memories of those nighttime jaunts have crossed my mind countless times over the years. It’s funny how spiritual analogies exist all around us, yet we often fail to perceive them. Looking back, I believe God orchestrated those night time walks as an illustration of an important spiritual truth--God wants us to depend solely upon Him for our direction.

Letting go of my independence has been one of most difficult challenges of my illness. By nature I am a person of high mental energy and a lot of drive. When something blocks my goal, I’m quick to devise a plan B, C, or D. And when I cannot resolve problems, I tend to become easily frustrated—with both myself and with God. When my crisis dragged on for months, I started to resent the way all my plans had been put on hold. It was impossible to project into the future or to work toward anything when my energy was consumed with just making it through one day. I even attempted to reason with God—“Look at me! I’m useless to you in this condition. I can’t even help myself, let alone serve anyone else. How can this possibly be Your will?”

Then I came across a passage of Scripture which reminded me of those night walks, and I sensed the Lord was trying to teach me something new:

After leaving Succoth they camped at Etham on the edge of the desert. By
day the LORD went ahead of them in a pillar of cloud to guide them on their way
and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light, so that they could travel
by day or night. Neither the pillar of cloud by day nor the pillar of fire by
night left its place in front of the people. (Exodus 13:20-22).

For more than 400 years, the Israelites had lived as slaves under the bondage of the Egyptians, until God miraculously intervened. Using Moses as His instrument of deliverance, He led the Israelites out of darkness and into the wilderness with the intent of bringing them to a new land--a land “flowing with milk and honey.” But the only way to get there was by following God's light. Through this process, I believe God was trying to develop their faith by teaching them to depend on Him one day at a time.

It can be scary to relinquish our sense of control--to find security in the Person and character of God rather than our own ingenuities. But the reward is peace. Particularly when we are suffering or in crisis and life feels like it has spun out of control, the only way to move securely through the darkness is by relinquishing our self-sufficient tendencies to God and by following His light to safer grounds. Just realizing that God was, indeed, using my suffering to develop an understanding of His ways gave me comfort and lifted my spirits. How wonderful to catch even a glimpse of how God uses the baffling circumstances of life for our good.

"Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path. (Psalm 119:105)."

Prayer: Dear Lord, sometimes I am so self-reliant. I know that your Word teaches me to depend solely on You for all things. Help me to trust You with my future--that whatever becomes of me is completely in Your hands. I can't see where this path is taking me, but I trust Your leading, one step at a time. Amen.

REFLECTIONS

Sandwich, MA

Photo by Eileen Gregory Selby

HOPE IS FRAGILE

After receiving a diagnosis of pancreatic cancer, Patrick Swayze appeared on a TV interview and made a comment I will never forget. Weary of the naysayers and negative forecasts regarding his prognosis he said, "Hope is a fragile thing." Those words reverberated in my mind for weeks. I got to thinking how mysterious hope is. What creates it? Where does it come from? Why do some people have it while others lose it altogether?

Swayze's comment was profound. Hope certainly is a delicate matter. When we are suffering, just one discouraging comment can utterly shatter our hope; likewise, just one encouraging word can fill us with the hope to face another day. In the midst of overwhelming circumstances, when our spirits are crushed, hope, if even a flicker, is the vehicle that carries us forward.

In the Bible, Romans chapter 4 says this:

"Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations, just as it had been said to him, 'So shall your offspring be.' Without weakening in his faith, he faced the fact that his body was as good as dead—since he was about a hundred years old—and that Sarah's womb was also dead. Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised."

God had promised Abraham a child from his loins. Twenty-five long years passed before that promise was fulfilled—years, no doubt, filled with longing and frustration. Abraham was 100 years old when his wife, Sarah, finally gave birth to their son, Isaac. Despite over two decades of waiting for God to answer Abraham’s prayers, Abraham continued to hope against hope. He knew who His God was and what God had promised, and that belief sustained him.

The book of Job reveals something interesting about hope as well. This great Old Testament saint suffered the loss of 10 children, his livelihood, and his health all at the same time. At first he courageously declared, "Though he slay me, yet I will hope in him." (Job 13:15). But as days of torment turned into months without any signs of relief, Job asked the rhetorical question: "What strength do I have that I should still hope?" (Job 6:11). The pain had begun to wear on Job’s determination.

These were the examples that I clung to at the peak of my medical crisis. When I returned home from a week-long stay in the hospital, my hope for healing was paper thin. In the painful months of recuperation that followed, there were moments when I felt like I had lost hope altogether. Was I going to suffer like this for the rest of my life? Would there be no end? When to the naked eye our circumstances appear to be turning out for the worst, it's easy to embrace the lie that God is angry at us. The loss of hope can be a terrifying feeling that leads to deep despair.

I’ve learned that hope is a gift from God, and God is always faithful to His children. In our weakness we may lose sight of Him, but He never loses sight of us. When hope fails, we must ask the Giver of hope to fill us once again. For all good gifts come from the Father above.

Prayer: Lord, I admit my weakness…that I have lost my hope. But I believe that You are able to restore it. Just as you created the world out of nothing, You are able to create hope where there is emptiness within me. Please fill me with the strength and courage to know that You still love me, and that You have a purpose for this pain in my life. Amen.