As the Scale Tips

Today, December 15, 2021, has probably been an ordinary day for you. It has been ordinary for me too. Today, I woke up, brushed my teeth, opened my hands to God, and drove to work while recording a message on Marco Polo. I programmed cochlear implants, wrote chart notes, edited the syllabus for an upcoming course, and drank coffee. I called my dad on the drive home and made dinner with one of those door-delivered meal kits. Now, I am about to go hug my friends and spend time in the Bible with the kings of Judah. A normal Wednesday. But...today has also been big. Today, I have officially been divorced as long as I was married. From this day forward, the balance of my life is offset in a different direction, weighted heavier in this current season than my previous one. As the scale tips, I once again pause, look over my shoulder, and remember…

In the middle of suffering, I can’t always see the silver linings in this world. I may not be able to imagine days when it won’t hurt to breathe and getting through one second won’t feel like an impossible task. In those moments, I know regardless of what happens in this life, even if I always carry grief and relief never comes, this is not my forever. At the end of this very short journey towards heaven there will be so much peace and joy and light that my darkness and suffering will feel like nothing. Paul says in Romans, “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.” Not worth comparing?! That is incredible, but I could never appreciate this dichotomy without experiencing grief. There is a hymn that says, “I thank you more than all our joy is touched with pain, that shadows fall on brightest hours, that thorns remain; so that earth’s bliss may be our guide and not our chain. I thank you, Lord, that you have kept the best in store. We have enough, yet not too much to long for more. A yearning for a deeper peace not known before.” That is the real value of suffering--that I learn to thirst for heaven like someone stranded in the desert thirsts for water. And resting in that promise of living with God, I can begin to breathe again and see the treasure He is creating in the trial. 

In Philippians, Paul is encouraging the Christians to pray and then he says they will have “the peace of God which surpasses all understanding.” In other words, I need to turn to God. Pray. In my grief. In my loneliness. In my fear. In my doubt. In my valley. Lean on the Creator of the universe and He will give me a peace that does not make sense. The fact that I can show up and say that God makes good from hard is evidence of a great and faithful Father. Peace doesn’t make sense. Joy doesn’t make sense. Love doesn’t make sense. Hope doesn’t make sense. None of it makes sense outside of the cross. I couldn’t say that God makes all things good if He hadn’t redeemed me. If He hadn’t loved me when I was unlovable. If He hadn’t chosen the shamed of the world (me). If He hadn’t given me a hope that is incorruptible. If He hadn’t said, I see the bad and the broken and I want all of it. God tells me this in Isaiah 43, “Now this is what the Lord says, the one who created you and formed you. Don’t be afraid, for I will protect you. I call you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the deep waters, I will be with you. When you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned and the flames won’t consume you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your deliverer.” What greater peace is there than being chosen by God? Grief strips back all of the distractions in my life and allows me to see what was actually important. 

I can’t say that what happened five years ago was a good thing. It was the product of sin, selfishness, lust, and pride. It was devastating and tragic and horrible and heartbreaking. There is no sugar coating that. But that doesn’t mean that God isn’t using it. That’s the power of my God--He creates beauty from brokenness. So, looking back now, I am grateful for the darkness. Because, just like with Joseph being sold into slavery, thrown into prison and forgotten--God uses the ugly parts of my life (the parts I wish weren’t there) for good. To help me. To help other people. And ultimately, to glorify Him. Psalms 19, “The heavens declare the glory of God. The skies announce what His hands have made. Each new day tells more of the story, and each night reveals more and more about God’s power.” Through the events that led up to December 15, 2016 and every day I have lived since, I have collected more evidence of God’s love, more proof of his faithfulness, and more confirmation of His deliverance. Praise God.

This isn’t the end of my story or of yours. It’s the messy middle. It’s the part that refines us, purifies us, and perfects us on this journey to heaven. You see, we don’t belong here and the good thing about this life is that it ends in redemption and eternity in the light. And today…on this ordinary Wednesday…I’m longing for the light and rejoicing in the glimpses of the glory to come.