Forgiving God may seem like an unusual concept in Christian theology. After all, isn’t God, who is perfect and sinless, the one who forgives us? However, when we feel anger, pain, or disappointment due to perceived unfairness in life, the process of ‘forgiving’ God can help us release negative emotions and realign our hearts with Him.

This blog grew out of a conversation I had just last night. I heard about a young lady who lost her mother, went through multiple pregnancies and abortions, substance abuse, the whole nine yards. Her attitude toward God was “why?” She blamed God for her mother’s death, and by inference blamed Him from everything else that was wrong. (She’s healed and whole now, so there is a very happy ending.)

Understandably, life often presents us with circumstances that appear unjust or unexplainable. In such instances, you might find yourself angry with God. Key point – it’s crucial to remember that God doesn’t need our forgiveness in the literal sense because He never sins or makes mistakes. Instead, when we talk about forgiving God, it’s about acknowledging our feelings of anger or betrayal, processing these emotions, and then releasing them, allowing ourselves to trust in God’s goodness and sovereignty once again.

When our expectations collide with reality, disappointment is a natural reaction. Often, this disappointment is directed towards people around us – loved ones, colleagues, or friends. But, at times, we might even feel disappointed with God, the omnipotent figure who, in our understanding, holds our lives in His hands. If you’re wrestling with these feelings, you’re not alone. Disappointment with God is a shared human experience and requires a compassionate, introspective, and grace-filled response.

It’s about adjusting our perspective, understanding that God’s wisdom transcends our human comprehension. Isaiah 55:8-9 says, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” God operates on a divine timeline and with an eternal perspective that we, as finite beings, can’t fully grasp.

So. How do we unpack all this? It’s heavy stuff, but I think there are some answers.

Firstly, it’s important to acknowledge that it’s okay to feel disappointed.

Christianity is not a faith of stoicism or indifference. Throughout the Bible, we encounter many instances of God’s people wrestling with feelings of disappointment, doubt, and despair. Job questioned God in his suffering, and David cried out in Psalms: “Why, O Lord, do you stand far away? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?” (Psalm 10:1). Even Jesus on the cross cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46).

Feelings of disappointment with God are not indicators of weak faith; rather, they are evidence of an engaged, authentic relationship with God. Like any relationship, our bond with God involves emotional peaks and valleys. The key is to remember that it’s not about eliminating our feelings but understanding them.

Secondly, it’s crucial to bring your feelings to God.

God is a loving Father who cares deeply about your experiences, including your disappointments. Talk to Him, express your feelings, ask hard questions, just as David and Job did. It may seem counterintuitive, but sharing your disappointment with God is an act of trust. It means you believe He cares for you and understands your pain.

Next, let’s lean into His Word.

The Bible offers a vast array of perspectives on dealing with disappointment. There is the ever helpful Romans 8:28. Paul writes: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” This verse is not a dismissal of our disappointment but a reminder that God’s perspective is eternal. Our present disappointments may be part of a larger plan we can’t yet perceive.

It’s also necessary to adjust our expectations.

God is not a genie to grant our every wish but a wise Father who knows what’s best for us. Some folks choke on this. Often, our disappointments stem from unmet expectations, which can sometimes be misguided. Another classic, Proverbs 3:5-6 advises, “Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.” Letting go of our need to control outcomes can alleviate disappointment.

Finally, don’t hesitate to seek support from your Christian community.

Share your feelings with a trusted friend, pastor, or mentor. These individuals can provide you with perspective, comfort, and wisdom.

Remember, God’s love is steadfast, His plans are good, and His mercy is new every morning. Feeling disappointed with God doesn’t mean He has failed you. Instead, it’s an invitation to deepen your relationship with Him, to explore your faith more deeply, and to seek His comforting presence in your disappointment.

When we ‘forgive’ God, we’re not pardoning Him for a wrong He’s done. Instead, we’re acknowledging that our understanding is limited, and we’re choosing to trust Him. We are surrendering our perceived right to question His wisdom and fairness. In doing this, we open ourselves to His healing touch and restore our faith in His infinite wisdom and boundless love.

This journey of ‘forgiveness’ is not always easy and might require patience, prayer, and spiritual guidance. In these moments, remember Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 12:9: “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore, I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.”

So, take heart. Your disappointment doesn’t disqualify you from God’s love; it draws you closer to His heart. Remember to engage honestly with your feelings, communicate openly with God, immerse yourself in His Word, align your expectations with His wisdom, and lean on your Christian community. In this journey, you will discover that even in disappointment, there’s a gift – the gift of God’s grace.

So, when we find ourselves wrestling with the concept of forgiving God, it’s not about finding fault in Him but about realigning our hearts with His. It’s a step towards healing, acceptance, and a deeper understanding of His unending grace.

The Bible holds a bounty of wisdom, teachings, and timeless stories, providing a solid foundation for building strong values and attitudes. One such virtue you’ll find is that of having a positive mindset. I’m not talking about some sort of motivational self-help thing … you know, “think positive thoughts.” There’s nothing wrong with that. But because of our daily trials, tribulations, and occasional uncertainties, positivity becomes a beacon, lighting our path towards hope, resilience, and personal growth.

Being positive doesn’t necessarily imply a constant state of happiness or ignoring the reality of our trials, but it does involve a willingness to view our life events from a hopeful perspective. As Romans 8:28 (NIV) assures,

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”

Embracing this scriptural promise empowers us to see the potential good that can emerge from any situation.

Sounds good, right? Still, you might wonder, “How can I develop such a mindset?” That’s what I’m tackling today. These are good, practical teachings. I have five. That sounded about right.

1. Practice Gratitude

The importance of gratitude is highlighted throughout the Bible. 1 Thessalonians 5:18 (NIV) tells us to

“give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.”

By consciously appreciating the blessings we have, we shift our focus from what we lack to what we possess. Get it? This practice enables us to anchor our hearts in positivity, acknowledging that even in trying times, there are always reasons to be grateful.

A practical strategy is to maintain a gratitude journal. From personal experience, I can tell you that this changes everything. Each day, write down at least three things you are thankful for, no matter how small they may seem. This will train your mind to seek out the good in every situation, enhancing your positive perspective.

2. Trust in God’s Plan

Trusting in God’s divine plan can often be a challenge, especially when we are faced with adversity. However, remembering Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV)…

“’For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'”

…provides a reminder that every challenge we face is a part of God’s master plan.

Praying for patience and trusting in God’s timing can help strengthen this mindset. When faced with hardship, take a moment to pray, surrendering your concerns and seeking peace in the understanding that God is in control.

3. Seek the Company of Positive Individuals

The Bible reminds us in Proverbs 27:17 (NIV),

“As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.”

This is one you shouldn’t overlook. Even now there is one person in my circle who absolutely sucks the life out of me. Surrounding yourself with positive people can influence your thoughts, inspiring optimism and hope. Engage in fellowship with those who uplift your spirit, reminding you of God’s love and promises.

4. Positive Affirmations from the Bible

There is significant power in the spoken word, and this is apparent throughout biblical teachings. Using positive affirmations derived from scripture can shape your mindset, reinforcing your faith and fostering a hopeful outlook. For instance, phrases such as…

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13, NIV)

…can serve as daily reminders of your capabilities and God’s unwavering support. I used to blow off positive self-talk as some kind of feel-good voodoo. Then I realized that I’d been saying things to myself that, if anyone else were doing that, I’d punch them. Speak kindly to you.

5. Regularly Reflect on Scripture

Dedicate time each day to reading and reflecting upon the Bible. Scriptures provide valuable insights and encouragement, promoting a positive mindset. Consider passages like Romans 15:13 (NIV),

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

These words can serve as anchors of hope, boosting your positivity. You’ve heard from many people how important it is to set aside some one-on-one Jesus time. It’s a big deal; again, from personal experience, this is a game-changer.

Cultivating a positive mindset, grounded in biblical teachings, is a journey rather than a destination. It’s about nurturing habits of gratitude, trust in God’s plan, seeking positive company, affirming ourselves through scripture, and regularly reflecting upon the word of God. This path offers us the ability to view life with hope, resilience, and positivity, ultimately helping us to find joy and fulfillment in all circumstances. In doing so, we learn to recognize that our trials are not merely obstacles, but opportunities for growth, faith deepening, and testament to our resilience in Christ.

Remember,

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.” (2 Corinthians 4:16-17, NIV).

So. Embrace the transformative power of positive thinking, always grounded in God’s loving guidance.

Talk later!

Another Mass Shooting, Where Do We Start? Lament.

NOTE: This was published by The Gospel Coalition August 8, 2019. I had written what I thought was a good blog, but I just can’t go with it. I hope I’ve done the proper crediting of my source. It was timely then, and timely now.

AUGUST 8, 2019  |  MARK VROEGOP

Over the weekend, two mass shootings shocked the nation’s conscience and opened another cultural wound.

The details are still emerging. Two gunmen, in El Paso and Dayton, slaughtered 31 people. In Dayton, nine people lost their lives, and it appears that the shooter was obsessed with mass shootings and violence. He even developed a hit list of religious and political groups.

In El Paso, 22 people were killed. Given a “manifesto” posted online, the shooter’s motivations appear to be more apparent—and appalling. He targeted Hispanics and espoused racist and white supremacist views.

We will eventually know more. In the meantime, there will be political finger-pointing. Various solutions will be offered. The clash of ideas and worldviews will become apparent. And the gravitational pull toward our respective “corners” will be strong.

What Can We Say?

Amid the trauma and tears, how should the church talk about this? Silence sends an unhelpful message, especially to our minority brothers and sisters when they consider the shooting in El Paso. However, the uncertainty of the moment creates an understandable caution.

How do we weep with those who weep when the fog of a national crisis descends?

Christians can start by lamenting. We can use the historic prayer language of sorrow to talk to God about the messy grief we feel. When the psalmist’s life was hurtful and confusing, he reached out to God in prayer, laid out his pain, pleaded for help, and renewed his trust in God.

The Bible is full of this kind of prayer language. More than a third of the psalms are laments. No wonder! The sorrows of life are many.

When tragedy strikes, when the stakes are high, and when it’s important—for many reasons—to express our grief, prayers in pain that lead to trust can be comforting and redemptive.

Lament for Mass Shootings

As I’ve pondered the shootings in El Paso and Dayton, here is my lament.

How long, O Lord!

God, we watch the news in disbelief as we battle despair. In El Paso and Dayton, 31 image-bearers—people who reflected your glory—were killed in yet another mass shooting. We know our world is broken. We know evil is real. We know the loss of life was not limited to El Paso and Dayton this weekend. But the scale of this senseless and wicked assault on human life is shocking and troubling. It causes us to turn to you.

We lament the presence of sin in the world and its destructive effects. We mourn the loss of life that will create empty spaces at dinner tables, birthday parties, and graduations. We weep with family members whose lives will never be the same.

We lament the devaluing of human life and its bitter fruit in our culture. We mourn the demonic rage that would lead to the slaughter of men, women, and children. We weep with El Paso and Dayton in the shattering of their peace.

We lament the wicked ideologies behind these shootings and their devastating results. We mourn beliefs that view people as our enemies because they are different, feelings of prideful superiority over others, and the use of violence to advance a wicked agenda. In particular we weep with our brothers and sisters who deeply feel the targeting of Hispanics and the white supremacist ideology behind the El Paso shooting.

Jesus, we need your help! We call on you to give us comfort and hope in our sorrow. We ask you to give us grace to care for one another during these volatile and divisive times. We plead with you to make churches a place of refuge—a shelter of Christ-exalting, neighbor-loving, compassion-giving people. We beg you to change hearts immersed in deep loneliness, superiority, rage, and hatred. We cry out for the ending of all actions and ideologies that do not fit with your kingdom.

Our King, we thank you for our city and national leaders. Tragedies create important conversations about future solutions. And they also surface deep divisions. Help them to work together for the common good of our communities and for the peace of our nation. In their words and actions, give them wisdom and grant them grace to model the kind of leadership that fits with your heart.

National tragedies remind us about the depth of our collective depravity and our need for a Savior. Our solutions will never be enough to eradicate the sinfulness embedded in our lives and our land. We need you, Jesus, to save and change us—both as individuals and also as a culture. We long for the day when our faith will be sight. We feel the urgency of the need for your return.

Until then we look to you through the tears.

Hope of Redemption

Christians know that our world is broken. We read in our Bibles that the entire creation groans (Rom. 8:22) and that sin has created the curse of death (Rom. 6:23). But we also know the hope of redemption through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ (2 Cor. 5:21). Christians long for the day when all tears will be wiped away (Rev. 21:4). We know a day is coming when demonic ideologies and mass shootings will never again threaten the peace of this world.

But until then, we lament.

We grieve the killing of image-bearers. We mourn the hard-heartedness that hurts innocent victims. And we weep over ideologies that broadcast anti-God lies from the pit of hell.

A lament doesn’t solve all the problems. It’s never enough by itself. More can and should be done.

But when a tragedy strikes, and we’re not sure what to say, “How long, O Lord?” is a good place to start.

I’ll start with a confessional. Sometimes, Christmas music gets on my nerves. But before you call the grinch squad on me, I’ll explain. And I will use The Little Drummer Boy as a jumping off place.

I love Christmas carols. Love ‘em. I might listen to them year round. But some of the secular stuff can really wear thin. White Christmas? Good with that. I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day? Check – I like it.

But Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree? Santa Baby? Mariah Carey? The whole Bob Dylan Christmas album, which is like some sort of surreal fever dream? No thanks, ma‘am.

Then there’s The Little Drummer Boy. More carol than secular. And for some reason I’ve done a deep dive with this one recently.

Don’t look for him in scripture. You won’t find him. If you look for the little drummer boy in the context of the lyrics (aside from the pa-rum-pa-pum-pums), you can piece together enough clues to tell you that he showed up at the same time as the wise men. (And for a special treat, listen to this song as performed by Pentatonix.)

Check this out.

Our finest gifts we bring … to lay before the king … so to honor Him … when we come.

Here are the wise men. Traditionally, there were three of them, based on the three gifts.

They brought good things. Expensive, even priceless things.

And then there’s the little drummer boy.

Little baby … I am a poor boy too. I have no gift to bring that’s fit to give our King. Shall I play for you on my drum?

The wise men brought their finest gifts. The little drummer boy had nothing of material value. He just played his drum.

I played my best for Him. Then He smiled at me … me and my drum.

I wonder how the little drummer boy felt?

I hope he didn’t feel unworthy. Because what he gave Jesus was sufficient because he gave with a pure heart.

This raises a couple of questions:

• What are you afraid to give God because you don’t think it’s good enough?
• What do you do when you see other do things for Jesus? What’s your response?

File those away. We’ll come back.

Let me take you somewhere else – specifically, Mark 12:41-44.

⁴¹ Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd putting their money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. ⁴² But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a few cents.

⁴³ Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. ⁴⁴ They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.” (NIV)

Can you see any parallels to the widow and the little drummer boy?

Maybe the widow thought what she gave wasn’t fit for God, but she gave anyway. It was all she could do.

The rich people threw plenty into the treasury. Jesus and His disciples were watching this, and then the little widow hobbles up to the treasury and drops those two coins in.

If you were there, what would you think? How would you feel?

I’d feel humbled at best, and unworthy at worst.

Giving doesn’t come naturally to me. I can be a stingy, self-centered, worldly old dude. I like stuff, and I don’t part with it easily.

God help me.

Both the widow and the little drummer boy had so little to give, but they both had hearts that longed to worship with all they have.

Let’s break this down, in conclusion. Actually, I’ll just ask that you and I answer these questions:

1. What are you afraid to give because you don’t think it’s good enough? Are you so mired in your sense of unworthiness that you don’t think you have anything to offer?
2. Have you been holding back anything from God? I’m not just talking about the things. I’m talking about your heart, your will, your whole life.
3. What are some ways you can give to God?
4. Have you ever seen God multiply something you thought was very small?
5. What’s something you’ve been thinking specifically about to give Jesus for His use? Want to be encouraged? Want to be a hope-giver? That’s my thoughts.

Where is your heart today?

I play my best for you.

I give you all I have.

God bless the little drummer boy. God bless us.

How to suffer. I’m repurposing a blog I wrote in 2019 with some additional thoughts at the end. This is very real and pertinent to me right now.

How to suffer well. Isn’t that a cheerful thought?

I’ve given this a lot of thought recently. Because, taken on its face, that makes God out to be some sort of cosmic ogre. It makes Him sound like a wicked potentate, demanding His pound of flesh.

Fact is, God is a god of mercy and justice. So how does suffering fit in? Does God indeed choose to crush you?

Yep. For the believer, it’s not optional.

Here’s what spurred this thinking for me. It grew out of a re-reading of the classic “suffering servant” passage in Isaiah 53 which is a prophetic foreshadowing of Jesus’ crucifixion. I’ve read this passage a gazillion times, I’m sure, and have often winced when reading verse 10.

Speaking of Jesus, Isaiah says, “Yet it was the Lord’s will to crush him and cause him to suffer …”

So I thought, man, poor Jesus. I know it was all part of The Plan, but it was for a redemptive cause – his life was to be an offering for sin.

(I’d add that it’s this line of thinking which causes some non-believers to balk at the Christian faith. “I mean,” they say, “what can you say about a god who would crucify his own son?” We could unpack that later.)

Are there, then, times when God chooses for you to suffer?

I’ve concluded that yes, indeed, there is.

Understand that being crushed by God doesn’t mean that your life is an offering for sin. That role has already been fulfilled. This isn’t about you being that kind of martyr.

To illustrate, I’ll need to go all autobiographical on ya. Thanks for indulging me. I have a reason for being personal…

… but I’m not looking for pity.

You may know that in June of 2018 I sustained a nasty concussion. Concussions happen all the time. But in about a third of concussion cases, the victim incurs what is called Post Concussion Syndrome. The issues are complex, but the bottom line is that it’s not a quick recovery. Some days I feel like a poster child for PCS.

I do think I’m better. People tell me they’re seeing more of the old Tony, and I appreciate that so! I don’t necessarily feel it, but I’ll go with the bright days I do have.

Besides the apocalyptic migraines that have come with it, the cognitive issues, and other fun symptoms, the worst has been the darkest, blackest, depressed funk you can imagine. That, too, has been held mostly at bay. Yay for good meds! Better living through pharmaceuticals, right?

What that has done, though, has given me a fresh empathy for those facing mental illness in general and depression specifically. I get it.

Here’s where it gets messy, though.

For those who aren’t familiar with mental illness – either their own or by observing someone dealing with it – it is so, so easy to pass judgement.

Here’s what sufferers hear. I know experientially what I’m talking about:

”Shouldn’t you be over it by now?”

”Cheer up. There are plenty of people worse off than you are.”

” Just have more faith.”

Yeah, that’s really helpful.

The worst, for me personally, is the vibe that I get from some people who think I’m trying to get away with something. There’s no visible sign of illness, so you have to be working a scam, right?

You get cancer, or you get heart disease, and no one asks, “what did you do?” You get depression or other mental illness, and they ask, “who sinned, this man or his parents?”

I could go on, but I’d come across as a whiner.

I don’t want to be a whiner.

Back to my thesis – does God choose for us to suffer? What do you do when God chooses to crush you (and I believe He does)?

If you feel crushed by God, you are not the first, nor are you alone.

I won’t take time right now to talk about David, that man after God’s own heart, but I can tell you that he just flat-out despaired. Check out Psalms 13, 22, 38, and 42 for starters.

I don’t want to get bogged down in theological weeds. Let me be as honest as I know how to be. I think this will help someone today.

I knew the Gospel. I knew all the right answers. I’ve taught the truth as best as I knew how.

But what I have recently learned is that there is a refining work of God that can only come though moments of despair. Sometimes, you just have to suffer.

This: I believe that God, in His mercy, has caused me to suffer.

Know why? It may be that I entered a season that I needed to suffer with Him. I could sit back and be all academic about suffering, or I could experience it first hand.

Here’s what’s happened. Because He’s crushed me, the faith He gives me is now stronger, more focused, and has astonishing clarity.

By walking through days that are a slog, and facing nights that are unusually long, I see things I never saw before.

By spending time in darkness, I am coming to understand what the light of Christ is all about.

When you say depression is just evidence of a weak faith, then you’re forgetting that Jesus Himself knew horrific sorrow. Not only did He endure despair (and was forsaken by God!) He even bore all our sorrows.

The takeaway? God sometimes chooses for you to suffer. But His love for us never changes. It’s in Him we place our hope.

Some new thoughts:

• Christianity doesn’t give us a free pass out of suffering. You will suffer. I guarantee it. It’s right and proper to acknowledge you’re hurting, and hurting bad. Just because you’re a Christian doesn’t mean your suffering will be any easier or more endurable What it does mean is that you can see your suffering as one point in a timeline that stretches out into eternity. For Christians, that means that the best is still ahead of us.
• The real reward for suffering is what God does in us and through us. I’ve already spoken about this. But there’s an intimacy with God that happens amidst our suffering that only suffering can produce. It puts our feet on solid ground and not shifting sand. Our souls are touched by God Himself, who is always with us in our suffering.

NOTE: I first posted this blog, The Gate of the Year, a year or so ago. I’m not one to recycle my posts, but, I dunno. It came to mind this morning during my quiet time. So many folks as of this writing are on edge, strung out, worried senseless. And in light of the passing of Queen Elizabeth, it’s time to refresh ourselves. Read it and share it. 

“The Gate of the Year” is the popular name of a poem by Minnie Louise Haskins. She titled it “God Knows.” I’ll share its best-known stanza in a moment.

A quick history lesson.

According to Wikipedia, the poem was written in 1908 and privately published in 1912. King George VI quoted it in his 1939 Christmas broadcast to the British empire. It was thought that his wife, Queen Elizabeth, the Queen Consort, shared it with him. Now it’s believed that Princess Elizabeth, aged 13, gave the poem to her father.

The Gate of the Year gave comfort to the Queen Mother all her days, and was a real inspiration to Brits in the Second World War. She had its words engraved on stone plaques and mounted on the gates of the King George VI Memorial Chapel at Windsor Castle.

These are some powerful words:

And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year:
“Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”
And he replied:
“Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.
That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”
So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night.
And He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East.

I wish I’d written this.

So why this current fascination on my part? Let me parse it.

And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year: “Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”

Here are two fundamental wishes. These are especially meaningful when you have some hard questions and answers aren’t forthcoming.

The desire for light is self-evident. You want to be able to see where you’re going.

“Tread safely into the unknown.” If light is available, then the unknown isn’t quite as scary. In these dark days, if you knew what lay ahead, wouldn’t you be comforted by knowing? (Or not; if what lay ahead is disastrous, you might not want to know.)

There have been times in my life – and, in all likelihood, yours too – when you took a leap of faith and hit the ground with a sickening thud. Your faith was misplaced. You let the clamor of the world drown out that still, small voice. Or, worse, you “followed your heart.” Ancient script teaches that the heart is deceitful above all things. Following your heart sounds noble, but it’s not a good idea.

And he replied:
“Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.
That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”

Yes yes yes.

You’ve probably said things like:

I thought God wanted me to marry him.

I thought I was supposed to take that job.

Moving to a new house felt right, somehow.

Here’s the lesson here:

• It’s not a matter of removing the darkness. It’s a matter of accepting the darkness and prevailing in it.
• God’s hand is big, protective, and firm. He doesn’t let go of you. People might. He won’t.
• If it’s safety you crave, then the most perfectly safe place in the universe is in the hand of God, and it doesn’t matter how dark it is.

So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night.

Here’s a subtle nuance. The picture is of someone (you? me?) moving first and then finding the hand of God. It’s knowing that He’s already there, whether you have reached Him or not. The poet draws the picture of taking God’s hand and trodding gladly into the night. No fear, no apprehension. Just the simple joy of knowing God’s got you.

It doesn’t matter the circumstances of what brought on the darkness. They might not change.  The mandate is to be glad in those circumstances. Crazy, I know. But it all is centered in God holding your hand.

And He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East.

Sweet.

Get this picture.

• God leads, and the journey begins in darkness.
• He leads toward the hills. Hills conceal, but there is the promise of something else beyond what can be seen.
• The day breaks in the East. There is the certainty of sunrise, and, blessedly, visual confirmation that it is indeed dawn. A new day with new possibilities and new hope.

The Gate of the Year

So heart be still:
What need our little life
Our human life to know,
If God hath comprehension?
In all the dizzy strife
Of things both high and low,
God hideth His intention.

God knows. His will
Is best. The stretch of years
Which wind ahead, so dim
To our imperfect vision,
Are clear to God. Our fears
Are premature; In Him,
All time hath full provision.

Then rest: until
God moves to lift the veil
From our impatient eyes,
When, as the sweeter features
Of Life’s stern face we hail,
Fair beyond all surmise
God’s thought around His creatures
Our mind shall fill.^[3]

Eternity now. Doesn’t that have a nice ring?

Recently I was given the opportunity to review a copy of the new NET Eternity Now New Testament. The legal folks at #biblegatewaypartner tell me that I need to mention that I received this Bible for free as a member of the amazing Bible Gateway Blogger Grid.

So, there’s that. And I’ll give you my honest opinion.

You may have a shelf full of Bibles in various translations. Perhaps your phone is loaded down with Bible aps. Candidly, though, what Thomas Nelson has done is offered a Bible in a format I’ve never seen, and it’s way-cool.

First, the Bible is in the New English Translation. If you aren’t familiar with this translation – and I wasn’t, because I’m primarily an NIV-kinda guy – it’s worth checking out netbible.com/net-bible-preface to see where they’re coming from. Short version is that the translators have tried to do the best possible job of straddling that line between being readable and being accurate. I don’t think the two are mutually exclusive. A word for word translation can come across as stiff and awkward; a thought for thought translation might read better, but might lose just a tiny bit in accuracy. Or not. 

My thought on the translation itself: I think we’re safe with this one. When I do legit Bible study I like to refer to several translations at the same time. Here’s one more for that mix.

The crazy innovative feature of the NET Eternity Now New Testament is how it’s formatted. I can see this being of enormous help to a new believer wanting to “get into” reading their Bible. I’d even say this is a good intro to the Bible for a curious new -believer.

The Bible comes as a boxed set of five separate books. (Huh?) In the neat packaging  I’ve shown above – titled “Eternity Now,” very meta there – each little volume contains a different set of New Testament books. Here’s the breakdown:

• Grand Tour – the amazing story that changed the world. It contains Luke and Acts.
• No Going Back – a fast-paced account from the front row of history. This is Mark and First and Second Peter.
• Death to Life – beyond what happened to what it all means. This covers all of Paul’s letters. 
• The Legacy – a rich story etched with pain and promise. Here’s Matthew, Hebrews, James, and Jude.
• Now but Not Yet – the beginning was shocking, and the ending changes everything.

(Those colorful descriptions are from the cover copy of each book.)

The other novelty – which isn’t a bad thing – is how the individual books are formatted. Each book begins with a prologue, a very accessible overview of what the reader can expect from the book. It’s simply background, not intended to be scholarly, but rather gives some context.

From there, each book is broken down by the traditional chapter numbering. Note – and this might be a deal-breaker for some – there are no numbered verses. Each chapter reads like a novel with no verse breaks.

That’s to say – this isn’t a Bible for Bible study, per se. It’s more useful for devotional reading, I can see it’d be pretty cool for someone’s daily Bible reading to take one of the volumes and simply read through it at their own pace. There are no notes, no cross references, anything like that. It’s just text, biblical content.

I think there’s a place for this translation and the way it’s formatted. Here’s a shoutout to whoever chose the font used, too!  I can see someone tossing one of the little volumes in their purse or backpack. I don’t really want to consider this “leisure reading,” but I get a really accessible vibe from this. I can recommend it – again, not as a study Bible, but just as an easy and fun way to get into scripture. 

You can find it in the Bible Gateway store at https://bg4.me/3PccDVn and its Amazon page https://amazon.com/dp/078529127X/   

Your thoughts?

So here is a lament for Uvalde. It’s godly sorrow. Heartbreaking. Emotionally crushing. And so applicable to the tragedy.

At this writing, the funerals have begun. We are all impacted, and while we don’t grieve in the same way as those who lost loved ones, we still grieve.

I don’t know how I should respond, but I will offer some thoughts. We certainly can all use some comfort right now.

Disclaimer: If you’re looking for some sort of political or policy statement from me, you obviously don’t know me. I ain’t going there. I do have some strong, even passionate opinions, but this isn’t the place. This is a time for lament for Uvalde.

Maybe we can help each other cry.

1. We can show empathy with our laments. When we get horrific news, we can easily be overwhelmed. This is normal – shock, disbelief, even physical sickness can be present. We say things like “I can’t imagine what those mamas, daddies, family members, friends are going through.” That statement, of course, is true. Even if you’ve faced unimaginable tragedy, you aren’t in the same place as those others are. You might rightfully wonder how you’d react if you were there, but you can’t know unless you experience it first hand. Still – empathy does put us in a place of caring and, in some fashion, helps us imagine. I’m a parent and a grandparent, and that’s my point of empathy.
2. We can respond with “thoughts and prayers.” This action is part of lamenting, but in our culture the idea of “thoughts and prayers” seems pretty lame in the eyes of many. “We need to do something!” folks cry. Agreed. I’ll touch on that in a minute. But immediately after a tragedy, what else do you have? What else can you offer? Thoughts and prayers are totally appropriate. When evil intrudes, it’s entirely possible to push back through prayer. As believers, prayers offer courage and fortitude. Prayer is instinctual. And it’s okay to pray for yourself. That’s not being selfish. That’s just acknowledging you need Jesus. And I’d encourage you to ask others to join you in prayer. We can corporately offer a lament for Uvalde.
3. Lament doesn’t mean that you are asking God to instantaneously set all things right. He could do that, I suppose, but rather than asking Him to fix things, how about just focusing on His mercy for those hurt in the tragedy first?
4. Some questions that would bring about lament would include “Why do wicked people so often have their way, and good and godly people suffer?” In the most agonizing way, it’s accusing God of not acting or intervening. But – this is not necessarily being blasphemous. It’s really a part of faith. Jesus expressed this lament from the cross: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” It is simply being honest and allowing your soul to cry out.
5. God is patient with evil. Sometimes it seems as if evil flourishes unchecked. This is a hard one. It’s a primary reason that many never pursue Christ.  All about us, we see evil personified. This is one forevermore fallen world, and we are here in this place for a season. Here’s a paradox, though: In the midst of suffering, heartache, violence, and pure wickedness, the grace of God flourishes. When we experience the worst, we still see evidences of goodness, holiness, compassion, and healing. Jesus’ cry from the cross I mentioned above? At the crucifixion and those days in the grave, we see man’s worst and God’s best. God offered salvation, and He did it by showing His power to bring life from death. It’s never too late to pray for healing and redemption.
6. Deeds, not words? How about both? You might not be able to be physically present, and therefore can’t do anything “hands on,” but that’s where prayer comes in. We don’t need to think about acting in any fashion without praying first. If we act without prayer, we can’t empathize. That’s part of our lament for Uvalde.
7. Lament means that there is no collision of ideals between praying and acting. Is it possible to pray without acting or act without praying? Sure it is, but they don’t cancel each other out. Because …
8. It is wrong for us, as believers, to act instead of praying. That implies that true goodness can grow from somewhere else besides God, Who is the only One Who is truly good. Sure, it’s possible to do good deeds, and act with integrity. I’d contend that, for those of us who are believers, that not praying before acting is putting the spiritual cart before the horse. Now, people who don’t share our faith won’t agree. For us, we defer to the wisdom of God first. Then we act. Please don’t misunderstand – there are times when you do act before praying – if your child has wandered out in the street in front of an oncoming car, you don’t need to pray about rescuing him. You know what I mean.

How much more grief can this old world stand? How long shall we lament for Uvalde?

As a believer, remember we follow the Suffering Servant. He is also the Wounded Healer. There is so much we don’t understand, and this side of eternity, will not understand. Still, God’s goodness isn’t up for debate. Against the backdrop of the Cross, I accept – even when I can’t understand – that He loves this world more than I ever could.

I wish I had some way of putting a nice bow on today’s blog, to offer some sort of closure. I just don’t have anything to offer right now.

Come Lord Jesus.

Talk later.

Really, now, who wants to be uncomfortable?

Back around Thanksgiving of last year, some of you consistent readers might recall that I broke my left shoulder. I took a vertical dive onto a brick sidewalk.  I was spared from surgery, thank God. I went through weeks of physical therapy, which was a joy. Not. I knew I had to do it, and I was compliant. “Uncomfortable” doesn’t even come close to expressing how it felt.

At home I slept in a reclining chair for weeks. I had to buttress my left arm up with pillows. There was one elusive position I could get in that would keep me from being totally uncomfortable. Once I got hunkered down, I avoided moving.

I missed my left arm. I’m left-handed, so that was a real inconvenience. Limited mobility? I couldn’t reach around behind my back to get my wallet. Getting dressed was a crazy challenge, since I couldn’t easily raise my arm above my head. And I need to mention bruised ribs, too – while they weren’t broken, they might as well have been. It hurt to breathe, and a cough or sneeze would set me wailing.

Those were uncomfortable days. Know what, though? I’m still uncomfortable, even after all this time.

The good doc at Mississippi Sports Medicine has been all chipper and upbeat about all this. He said I was doing fine, that nature would take its course, and that I’d be back up to speed by July 4 or so. That’s insane. Healing shouldn’t take that long, but by golly, it does.

Getting out of bed? Because I can’t push off with my left arm, I have to roll over on my side, kick back the covers, and sling my legs off in tandem. The leverage I get from that helps me sit up, without having to use my arms much. It’s a sight to behold,I can assure you. 

Even as I’m sitting here tapping away at a keyboard, I’m aware of my messed-up shoulder. If I nurse it, I’m okay, but sometimes just the wrong move, the wrong reach, and I am acutely aware that there’s still some healing to do.

But being uncomfortable has proven to be a pretty decent life lesson. 

With my extraordinary gift of being able to torture a metaphor, here’s what I’m learning.

1. God enjoys seeing me uncomfortable. It’s because He didn’t call me to be comfortable. If we’re comfortable, chances are that we’re passive, too. We aren’t doing anything to get us out of that venerable comfort zone.
2. He wants me to trust Him completely. If I’m comfortable, then I’m less likely to take risks. I’m not talking about mindless risk-taking. I’m talking about being happily discontent to the extent that I don’t “settle.”
3. He wants me to be unafraid to put myself in situations where I’ll be in trouble if He doesn’t come through.

I need to unpack that last statement just a little.

As believers, it’s really easy to play it safe spiritually. We can work on our personal relationship to God, nurturing ourselves, and be all content when we’ve checked all the boxes. 

I’m stating that God can engineer circumstances in which we’ll be very uncomfortable. It’s when things don’t make sense, and our reason crashes into a wall, that we are desperate to have some direction and counsel from God.

Problem is, we like to be self-sufficient. We think that will keep us from being uncomfortable. After all, we subconsciously think that we can master our own fates.

“I got this” is the phrase we love to use. Well, my experience has shown me that I just think I got this. 

To be uncomfortable spiritually is evidence that we’re looking to our own understanding rather than letting God order our steps. I think discomfort expands exponentially to put us in an attitude of dependence. We’ll be uncomfortable as long as we try to run the show. I hate to disillusion you, but we just aren’t that good at managing our own lives. 

So – I think God gets a holy kick out of making sure that we don’t become too at ease. I think He wants us to be brave enough, by His grace, to put ourselves in situations in which He has to come through or we’re sunk.

That’s part of the adventure of being a believer. We position ourselves – or allow ourselves – to be put in a place where God gets to be God. It’s a real treat to step back, slack-jawed, and acknowledge that what just happened was a God-thing, unexplainable by any other circumstance. 

Being uncomfortable is a gift. It keeps us from stagnating. It puts us on the frontiers of what God wants to do in us and through us.

It took a broken shoulder for me to understand it. Maybe you’ll get it without having to fracture something.

Talk later!

I am struck this morning by how many people are living in fear. 

For some, it’s a definite, identifiable “thing.” Others, it’s just a general sense of being afraid.

Consider this. COVID is still hanging around, although it seems to be on the decline, thank you, Jesus. Sure, there are those out there who sound the alarm over some new variant, some new precaution, some new mandate (yuck. But in my neck of the woods, I’m hearing a resounding “so what?”) 

At any rate, the virus, and all that surrounds it, are working on folks who are living in fear. 

It might be fear of the virus itself. It has killed people. So people living in fear of the virus might take steps to protect themselves that others think are nonsense.

There, too, is the fear of vaccines. Some of those living in fear of vaccines think the science isn’t settled, that there is some nefarious global conspiracy, or other thoughts.

Depending on which side you come down on, the truth is that there are those living in fear no matter what the other side says. Who’s right? Beats me, but that’s not the point.

Point is – people are scared.

There are plenty of other Very Bad Things that can cause folks to live in fear.

• Ukraine. While if you are “safe” in the relative isolation of our country – at least, you don’t see evidence that Russia is about to invade your town – there are Ukrainians who are being systematically annihilated. That’s genuinely scary. 
• The economy. People, I’m just about at a place where I’m going to need to take out a second mortgage just to pay for food and gas. I went to buy a pound of ground beef yesterday, and thought I’d need an armed escort to walk me back to the car. I was afraid I’d be mugged for meat and it would then be sold on the black market.
• Morals. Just when I think it can’t get worse, I’ll be danged – it can, and it does. The values I grew up with are routinely spurned, if not ridiculed. Gender issues? I don’t know where to even start. It flies in the face of rational thinking. Celebrating sin? I see that all the time. How folks can be proud of being perverse is beyond me, but hey, I’m a dinosaur, right? 

All that’s to say … maybe you’re living in fear. As God is my witness, I am here to say to you: That is not of God.

A couple of distinctions, however.

• There is a difference in fear and legitimate concern. There are irrational fears, certainly. As I write this, we are anticipating our weekly round of tornadic weather. Ah, the joys of living in Mississippi! This is the fourth week in a row. But I am not afraid. Being scared isn’t helpful. I can be concerned, because concern will take me to a place of prudence and caution. I’ll watch our weathercasts, and do what I need to do to be safe. See the difference? 
• Concern moves you to positive, practical actions. Fear settles into your bone marrow and slowly makes you crazy.

This may sound clinical and cold, but it can help simply to play the odds. The odds are extraordinarily good that we won’t be wiped out by a tornado. I’ve heard people say, regarding the COVID vaccine, “People have died from that!” My response? “Not that many.” I mean, what am I supposed to say? (There’s a little snark there on my part. Maybe you need to add me to your prayer list.)

All this setup about living in fear gives me all the reason I need to give you hope and encouragement.

I expect some of the most fearful people in all the Bible were Jesus’ disciples after the crucifixion. These poor hapless guys. They’d spent literally years with Jesus, saw a lot of amazing things (healings? People being raised from the dead? You know, just typical occurrences in the first century.) He even made this audacious claim that after three days in a tomb He’d come back to life. 

The disciples knew all this. It didn’t sink in. Maybe they thought He was speaking metaphorically. 

Because, when He was arrested, they bolted and ran. At the crucifixion itself, I’m guessing some of them felt close to despair. They deserted Him because they were flat-out scared, and the best some of them could manage while Jesus was on the cross was to watch from a distance. And after all that, we see the disciples all scrunched up together, behind locked doors because they were afraid. Living in fear, as it were. Muttering things like, “Well, that didn’t go like it was supposed to.”

Then Jesus busts up right in the middle of them. Boo-yah! That scared them, too, but they ended up rejoicing. (Is that a lesson for us or what?)

After the resurrection came the ascension. 

At this point, I’m gonna admit to being lazy and instead of the research I should do, I’m going to rely on my admittedly porous memory.

I can’t recall a single time in scripture – specifically in Acts – where there was any word or evidence that would lead me to believe the disciples were living in fear any more. (Feel free to correct me.)

It’s apparent. Experiencing the resurrection eliminated fear. 

Want me to belabor the obvious? 

In light of the resurrection, which this year we celebrate on April 17, we don’t need to be living in fear any more. The fear of death has been removed. Since that’s the big one, then it stands to reason we don’t have anything else to be afraid of, either.

This is easier said than done, of course. Still, the banishment of fear comes with a complete identification with Jesus Christ and the power that comes from the Holy Spirit. As in all things in life, you don’t have to face your fears alone. 

The tomb is empty and the throne is occupied. O be joyful.

Talk soon!                                                                                                              

Do you have any fake relationships? Let me explain.

I know lots of people. Actually, it seems that a lot of people know me, and I don’t know them. Part of it is the nature of my job; I’m all over the state, frequently in lots of churches, and have met tons of students and adults over the years. So when I run up on someone who says “Hey, Tony!” I just roll with it. Or I’ll be honest and say, “Hey! But I’m gonna need a little help here.” Most folks are gracious and understanding.

But the fake relationship thing. That’s touchy.

It’s touchy because there are some people I love being around. I just got back from a visit to Metro Vancouver/Maple Ridge, British Columbia. Those are some forevermore special friends up there. For an introvert, I was over-the-top chatty and engaged with them. It was balm for my soul, and I miss them already. And there are plenty of folks stateside that I love to be around, too.

Others make me cringe. It’s those folks I see in the grocery store from a distance, and I want to abandon my buggy in the aisle and head for the door. It’s that person that I know who wants to chat me up for an hour without saying anything. Then there are those clingy folks, and that friend from college I haven’t heard from in ages who wants to share a business opportunity with me. 

And sometimes it might even be that really good friend who wants something from me I can’t give. That’s not a fake relationship, but it’s one that sometimes, briefly, I just can’t accommodate. 

In church work, it’s that standard “How ya doing?” question, with my response, “I’m doing just fine.”

It’s “just fine” because I’m just not in a place where I can engage, and truthfully, we ask that question not wanting much more than “I’m fine. And you?” The next response is “I’m fine, too.” That’s the bizarre little conversational dance we find ourselves in.

This isn’t a bad thing, and it can be foundational to more conversation, but fact is I/we can be nice without being honest. 

It may be that pretending to care (God help me – I may sometimes be guilty of that!) or to pretend to be someone else for a few moments is easier than investing in another person. Well, there’s your fake relationships right there. Surface level relationships drain me so bad. I can do small talk for a while, and be pretty convincing, but at some point, we gotta go deeper or go home.

My burdensome realization? We just aren’t made for bogus, fake relationships.

God isn’t particularly interested in our reputations. He calls for blatant authenticity. We’re supposed to be relational (and if I’m invested in you, I’m all in. Maybe that’s a good thing. I want to believe it is, even when it drains me.)

The personally sobering fact is that we are all created for authentic relationships that help us connect with others. And for someone who can be pretty content with hanging out with myself and Jesus, to the semi-exclusion of those around me – this is a challenge. I ain’t gonna lie. 

But – and this is a big but – I never, ever intend to be that fake friend. I’m either real or I’m not. I love everyone, and that’s the unvarnished truth. My friend group is pretty limited, but I do well with folks outside of it. For a while, at least – then I’ll need to go lay down and recharge.

I do understand, though, that my nature can cripple relationships with those around me. So, in order to escape the trap of fake relationships, there are some steps I can take. Here are three:

1. When we aren’t open and even a bit vulnerable, we can lose sight of grace. If I pretend to have it all together and be the life of the party, I can disengage from my group and can forget who I am in Jesus. It takes a lot of unhealthy effort to pretend to be something we aren’t. We can forget that we’re God’s children, and we don’t need to perform or pretend for Him. It’s not like we need to parade our goodness before Him, or convince Him that our lives are Instagram perfect. We forget grace; He’s accepting of us no matter what we do or what we think. Lose sight of grace, and you’re gonna be one hurtin’ puppy.
2. If we aren’t vulnerable, it’s hard to have friendships that are blessed. This vulnerability thing – in my case, I’m not going to let you know anything meaningful about me, or I’m going to puke all over you and possibly give you more reality than you can handle. Lord have mercy, how hard it is to find that sweet spot balance! But shallow friendships aren’t much fun, over the long haul. I mean – if we can’t share some hurt with our friends, how can we share in the joys? If you look at Jesus, He was the real deal with everyone – friends, disciples, family, Pharisees, the Romans. He was authentic. So if authenticity makes us more like Jesus, maybe that’s a virtue worth cultivating.
3. When we’re not vulnerable, we just can’t love others like we should. That’s fertile ground for some fake relationships. I don’t know if you’re a people-pleaser – I’ll cop to having those tendencies, but not as much as I did when I was younger – but trying to live up to others’ expectations is going to make you really tired. Furthermore, people-pleasing isn’t loving the other person. If you love someone, you want the best for them. It follows that since we’re screwed-up humans, what we want is often not what we need. If we’re going to love appropriately, we can’t be controlled by their opinions. When we’re honest with our friends and families, we have more freedom to love them because we aren’t wasting our energy trying to present ourselves as someone or something we aren’t.

The unpleasant reality is that we may have some fake relationships. To make those relationships authentic can be hard. 

If we can be honest and real without being needy or manipulative, then we are well down the road to authenticity, and fake relationships won’t have to be the norm. We can more effectively follow Jesus and love people even better. 

Having an authentic relationship with Jesus can make us more like Him, and it’s so worth it.

Talk later!

God allows you (and me) to suffer. Ever wonder why?

That’s a tough one. While I’ve addressed this in my blog before, it bears revisiting. Man, I hate to even bring it up. And yet – folks sure do seem to be hurting a lot these days. They’re frustrated, afraid, and wear worry like a shroud. 

I’d be presumptuous to try to define suffering for you – what is agonizing for you might not be a big deal for me, and vice-versa. 

Those questions – why is this happening to me? Is God testing me? – can be mighty troubling, especially when answers don’t seem to be forthcoming. 

If God allows you to suffer, something is happening. And we don’t ask those questions when things are going well. 

We ask them when we’re hurting, backed into a corner, and when in general life is going badly.

There are also degrees of suffering. If the AC goes out in our house in August, and fans just don’t move the air around, then I might say that I’m suffering. If I sprain my ankle, I might call that suffering. If I have cancer and I’m racked by excruciating pain, that’s suffering, right? If someone I love is dying of some dread disease, and I’m watching their life flow away in a toxic stream, then both of us might well be suffering. 

If you’re a believer, then God allows you to suffer, too, and your faith in Christ doesn’t mean a grief-free life.That, incidentally, is one reason many folks just reject Christianity outright. 

Y’all, there’s a tenet of our faith that we often overlook or ignore, and it can strike into the heart of the very devout. Intellectually, you may know better, but when life happens, all that ethereal head knowledge can just vanish. You are going to suffer, and God is going to allow it. 

Many Christians, perhaps even most, believe that if they are God’s child, then things should go well. Suffering? Nope. They think they’re exempt. I mean, if they’re a believer, if they are living for Him, if they’re good people, then all should be fine. 

Before you get all up in my face, saying, “I know that. I understand that. That’s Chrisitianity 101,”  do a quick gut-check. Have you ever asked “Why me? What have I done? Do I have some unconfessed sin in my life and this is payback from God?”

Well, there is sowing and reaping to consider. Most of the grief in our lives we bring on ourselves because we’ve wilfully made some idiotic choices. There is, however, plenty of evidence and first-hand experience that informs us that suffering comes in spite of our wise choices, pure intentions, and relationship with God.

That God allows you to suffer is clear. But why do we suffer in this world?

I love a numbered list. Let me offer four reasons why we suffer. Maybe this will help, but in the face of such a profound and mysterious truth, I’m not going to be able to give you any fresh revelations. These are things you already know, but I’m sharing these as simple reminders. 

1. We live in a broken world, and so we struggle. Think about mental struggles – we are bombarded daily with horrific news. We spend too much time in our own heads. Our minds start kicking themselves. This, of course, dovetails with emotional struggles. We are depressed, anxious, and in a funk. See how these feed on each other? Physically? We eat wrong when we’re dealing with mental and emotional issues. We become sedentary, or else turn into gym rats, losing ourselves in fitness, running, etc. (and hear me – I’m for sure not dissing any of these disciplines. It’s just when they’re used as escape tools that we might have problems.) Finally, how about spiritual struggles? You know, when God seems distant and silent and when our prayers don’t get any further than ceiling height. All these can be evidence of our living in a broken world.
2. There is abundant evil in the world. We call that sin, and it’s in us and those around us. Sin brings suffering – ultimately, it brings death. Often we embrace sin because, let’s face it, it’s fun. For a season, anyway. It’s our sin, and others’ sin, that brings on suffering in the world. Fact.
3. God allows suffering. I can’t stress this too much. Of course He could end all suffering. Guess what? He’s going to. In the realm of the mysterious, in the providence of an all-knowing and all-loving God, suffering will be annihilated. Jesus will return. We don’t know when, and while it can be an intriguing pastime to try to discern when, the best approach is to simply say “soon,” which, of course, is true. 
4. Suffering makes God’s love and grace even that much more sweet. Think about this. Let’s say Sunday your preacher shares a sermon that talks about God’s love. You appreciate and affirm it. It gives you all the feels. But – what if a person dying with cancer in the final hours of their life talks about God’s love, don’t you think you’d respond differently? Or, perhaps, someone gets a generous and unexpected tax refund, and they say, “I’m so blessed!” Compare that to a woman in Haiti I heard about, and her most prized possession was a big bucket – she was able to cook in it, haul water in it, wash clothes in it. And she said, “I’m so blessed.” Is there a bit of a difference you see?

One of my favorite C.S. Lewis quotes comes into play as you realize God allows you to suffer:

We can ignore even pleasure. But pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.

A deaf world, indeed. It might just be that the world we currently live in is being molded by God into something that will really, really get our attention.

I’ve tried, over the years, not to evaluate anything in my life apart from the backdrop of the cross. If I’m suffering, and I think I’m being punished, I have to remind myself – nope, Jesus took my punishment. Or if I’m tempted to think that God doesn’t care, then I remind myself – hey, Tony, God does care. He’s lost a son because He loved you. 

I suppose when you resolutely deal with knowing God allows you to suffer, you come to understand that God loves you definitively because of Calvary.

He will use the junk you’re going through for your good and the good of those around you. You will never walk alone. 

We are going to suffer in this world. Count on that. We don’t have to wish it on ourselves – that’s sort of weird – but we need to be ready for it. We can love God in good times, and we can love God when we’re hurting. And we should call others to share in the ultimate victory that Jesus won for us … because He, too, suffered. 

Talk later!