Readings for today: Job 16-18, Acts 9:1-22
Painting of the Parable of the Good Samaritan by Balthasar van Cortbemde (1647)
Yesterday, I found myself wearing down in a long conversation as I advocated for the truth of the gospel. After hours of talking, I went to bed tired and frustrated by the whole affair. It isn’t easy to take up the plight of the poor. To fight for the oppressed. To defend the marginalized. And then I began to think about all the dear friends and loved ones I have here at home and around the world who live this reality. Day in and day out, they suffer. They experience pain and heartache. They endure injustice. There is no end to it all. And they aren’t the only ones who struggle. I think about the impoverished. Those who live day to day, searching for food and water. I think about the aged. Those who are losing their minds and whose bodies are failing. I think about those who are battling mental health issues. I think about their mental anguish. The daily fight to get out of bed. The pain of this world is simply overwhelming.
I think about my own struggles over the years. I think about what it was like to lose our first child. The numbness followed by the deep grief. The tears I shed. The pain I felt when the doctor walked us through all the problems he had. No ribs. No lungs. No limbs. Fluid buildup. Heart failure. It was like one blow after another. A relentless onslaught. How did Job put it? “He breaks me with breach upon breach; he runs upon me like a warrior.” (Job 16:14) I think about our time in Wisconsin. Reaching the point of deep brokenness in our marriage. Coming face to face with my deepest insecurities and fears. Feeling overwhelmed on a daily basis. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. I blamed You, God. I fought with You, God. For months I paced the floor, crying out to You all night long. I barely got any sleep and when I did it was anxious and restless. You stripped my life down to the studs. You took everything from me that I could possibly hold onto. There were nights I prayed for it all to end. I said with Job, “My spirit is broken; my days are extinct; the graveyard is ready for me.” (Job 17:1)
But then, in the middle of the deep darkness, I discovered a profound truth. When I hit rock bottom and had nothing left, I found You. You were there waiting for me. And You showed Yourself sufficient for all my needs. You comforted me. You nursed me back to health. You gave me hope. You renewed your promise. I think of Job’s statement of faith at the end of chapter 16, “There must be Someone in heaven who knows the truth about me, in highest heaven, some Attorney who can clear my name— My Champion, my Friend, while I’m weeping my eyes out before God. I appeal to the One who represents mortals before God as a neighbor stands up for a neighbor. (Job 16:19-21 MSG) At the end of all things, I found Jesus. The Alpha and the Omega. The first and the last. He was there all along. He heard my cries. He endured my rage. He wiped my tears. He heard my heart. He met me in my suffering. He came to me when all hope seemed lost. My faith was renewed. My life never the same. It was like a second conversion. A confirmation of the Psalmist’s promise that even when we walk through the valley of the shadow of death we do not need to fear for God is with us.
I look back on that time and, while I would not wish it on my worst enemy, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. To come to the end of oneself, one must truly come to the end of oneself. To deny oneself and pick up a cross, one has to endure incredible suffering and pain. To discover the depths of the sufficiency of God and His grace, one must be stripped of all things they might be tempted to seek solace in instead. It’s not easy to tear down the idols of one’s life or to have them torn down for you by God Himself. It’s not easy to let God truly have His way. To let Him break you of the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life. When He cuts, He cuts deep. To the heart. It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the Living God. His Word is like a double-edged sword “piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” (Hebrews 4:12) So today I am thankful for God’s severe mercies. Thankful for His steadfast love and faithfulness. Thankful for the ways He has broken me and the ways He has bound me back up. My life is in His hands.
Readings for tomorrow: None