I cry out to God. I call to God and He will hear me. I look for the Lord on the day of trouble. All night long I reach out my hands, but I cannot be comforted. When I remember God, I become upset. When I think, I become afraid.
You keep my eyes from closing. I am too upset to say anything. I keep thinking about the old days, the years of long ago. At night, I remember my songs. I think and ask myself: "Will the Lord reject us forever? Will He never be kind to us again? Is His love gone forever? Has He stopped speaking for all time? Has God forgotten mercy? Is He too angry to pity us?" Then I say: "This is what makes me sad: For years the power of God Most High was with us." (Verses 1-10)
Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And He Who searches hearts knows what the mind of the Spirit is, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. Romans 8
I watched in amazement the forty-six-year-old man surf down the one hundred foot wave toward rocks that would most certainly seal his death if the giant wall of water didn't collapse on him first. I'm sure he held his breath with both fear and exhilaration. His wife, however, could only see the rocks into which he would most certainly be catapulted. But the surfer had committed. There was no quitting the ride at midpoint. It was literally, surf or swim....or die.
Before we make it home to be with Jesus, we will all have a wall of water behind us threatening to savage our lives. We're committed to this ride, but the ominous disaster that could await us is a hundred feet high and in the moment all there is hanging on for dear life. No singing of the hymns in quiet devotionals or peaceful mornings on the front porch drinking coffee and talking to God while the sun comes up. No. Our business is to cry out to God with the seemingly insurmountable mountain of misery taking all of our breath away. It takes up all our time, day and night. When we think about all the ways the scenario could play out, we stop thinking. Just stay on the board. Keep staying upright. That's about all we can manage. "God, help me!" we cry as the curl of the wave looks like it might just take us into a raging undertow. And we suddenly remember the easy days when it seemed every prayer was answered and the seas were calm. A faint memory are the contemporary Christian songs we used to sing when life wasn't forced forward by the surge of trouble. Where is God? An upsetting question. Especially if you are wanting salvation from the current ride. There isn't an explanation for His seeming absence in the struggle. So. We don't talk if He's not talking. What's there left to say?
All these questions are really about the goodness of God. He lacks mercy, goodness and love because He has abandoned and rejected us, deciding to give us the silent treatment for a sin we can't quite pinpoint. Hmmm. Here's what happened to the surfer: He held his breath, rode the gigantic wave into what looked like certain death, then veered at the last minute away from the rocks. Right into the arms of his very thankful wife. And...he had the ride of his life.
But there are times when it doesn't seem to turn out so well. Lazarus was sick. Really sick. Mary and Martha knew if nothing happened, their brother would die. The three were good friends of Jesus. They had, no doubt, seen Him heal others. At one of Martha's dinner parties, I'm sure they heard Jesus and His disciples recount stories of coins found in fishes' mouths and demons rushing a herd of pigs over a cliff. The Messiah was their good friend. Yet, He didn't come before Lazarus died. The sisters buried their brother without Jesus seeming to even care. Where was He? Waiting. For them to ride out this wave. Because healing Lazarus wasn't nearly as amazing as would be raising him from the dead. But their brother had been four days in his tomb. "You can't roll that stone away," cried Mary. "Lazarus stinks by now!" That's being overwhelmed by the wave, for sure. Life did its worst to Lazarus. Death. Our final enemy.
Jesus cried with Mary and Martha. Groaned with their groanings. In fact, he wailed. Jesus felt in their moment exactly what they felt. Even though He absolutely knew what the outcome would be. An empty tomb. A reeking former corpse stumbling out of the cave encumbered by his grave clothes. "Unbind him and set him free!" Jesus ordered. And the crowd cheered. Because ultimately we can trust the goodness of His will. Here or there.
Sliding down a mammoth wave? Don't have the breath to say anything to your God? Wondering where He is? Your Abba is riding with you. Knows what to tell the Spirit to guide you to do. And the Spirit joins with our spirit to tell God in a way we can't even imagine what it is we need right now...headed for the rocks, going too fast in what looks like a bad direction. Hang ten! It could just be the ride of our lives.
You keep my eyes from closing. I am too upset to say anything. I keep thinking about the old days, the years of long ago. At night, I remember my songs. I think and ask myself: "Will the Lord reject us forever? Will He never be kind to us again? Is His love gone forever? Has He stopped speaking for all time? Has God forgotten mercy? Is He too angry to pity us?" Then I say: "This is what makes me sad: For years the power of God Most High was with us." (Verses 1-10)
Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And He Who searches hearts knows what the mind of the Spirit is, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. Romans 8
I watched in amazement the forty-six-year-old man surf down the one hundred foot wave toward rocks that would most certainly seal his death if the giant wall of water didn't collapse on him first. I'm sure he held his breath with both fear and exhilaration. His wife, however, could only see the rocks into which he would most certainly be catapulted. But the surfer had committed. There was no quitting the ride at midpoint. It was literally, surf or swim....or die.
Before we make it home to be with Jesus, we will all have a wall of water behind us threatening to savage our lives. We're committed to this ride, but the ominous disaster that could await us is a hundred feet high and in the moment all there is hanging on for dear life. No singing of the hymns in quiet devotionals or peaceful mornings on the front porch drinking coffee and talking to God while the sun comes up. No. Our business is to cry out to God with the seemingly insurmountable mountain of misery taking all of our breath away. It takes up all our time, day and night. When we think about all the ways the scenario could play out, we stop thinking. Just stay on the board. Keep staying upright. That's about all we can manage. "God, help me!" we cry as the curl of the wave looks like it might just take us into a raging undertow. And we suddenly remember the easy days when it seemed every prayer was answered and the seas were calm. A faint memory are the contemporary Christian songs we used to sing when life wasn't forced forward by the surge of trouble. Where is God? An upsetting question. Especially if you are wanting salvation from the current ride. There isn't an explanation for His seeming absence in the struggle. So. We don't talk if He's not talking. What's there left to say?
All these questions are really about the goodness of God. He lacks mercy, goodness and love because He has abandoned and rejected us, deciding to give us the silent treatment for a sin we can't quite pinpoint. Hmmm. Here's what happened to the surfer: He held his breath, rode the gigantic wave into what looked like certain death, then veered at the last minute away from the rocks. Right into the arms of his very thankful wife. And...he had the ride of his life.
But there are times when it doesn't seem to turn out so well. Lazarus was sick. Really sick. Mary and Martha knew if nothing happened, their brother would die. The three were good friends of Jesus. They had, no doubt, seen Him heal others. At one of Martha's dinner parties, I'm sure they heard Jesus and His disciples recount stories of coins found in fishes' mouths and demons rushing a herd of pigs over a cliff. The Messiah was their good friend. Yet, He didn't come before Lazarus died. The sisters buried their brother without Jesus seeming to even care. Where was He? Waiting. For them to ride out this wave. Because healing Lazarus wasn't nearly as amazing as would be raising him from the dead. But their brother had been four days in his tomb. "You can't roll that stone away," cried Mary. "Lazarus stinks by now!" That's being overwhelmed by the wave, for sure. Life did its worst to Lazarus. Death. Our final enemy.
Jesus cried with Mary and Martha. Groaned with their groanings. In fact, he wailed. Jesus felt in their moment exactly what they felt. Even though He absolutely knew what the outcome would be. An empty tomb. A reeking former corpse stumbling out of the cave encumbered by his grave clothes. "Unbind him and set him free!" Jesus ordered. And the crowd cheered. Because ultimately we can trust the goodness of His will. Here or there.
Sliding down a mammoth wave? Don't have the breath to say anything to your God? Wondering where He is? Your Abba is riding with you. Knows what to tell the Spirit to guide you to do. And the Spirit joins with our spirit to tell God in a way we can't even imagine what it is we need right now...headed for the rocks, going too fast in what looks like a bad direction. Hang ten! It could just be the ride of our lives.
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