the constancy of faith.
"Hope is nothing else but the constancy of faith." (John Calvin)
I've been learning a lot lately about hope and faith. I've been reading through a devotion called Jesus today, and its center is found in the hope we have in Christ. I've been slowing walking through Hebrews, where faith is the forefront of the challenge & encouragement. the unknown author is penning to his audience of persecuted believers. I've been seeing God's immense faithfulness to a faithless, rebellious humanity as I've been in a class on the book of Romans. The biggest lesson I've been learning? Both these concepts are unseen and yet are called upon every single day in order to keep plodding on in our journey with Jesus.
Now sometimes, we do get glimpses. God does tangibly fulfill a promise. He provides when we weren't looking. He guides when we weren't seeking. He answers a prayer we had almost given up on. I've been clinging to Hebrews 2:8-9 a lot this semester:
"At present, we do not yet see everything under Jesus' control...BUT WE SEE HIM, who for a little while put on humanity, becoming a little bit lower than the angels, now crowned with honor and glory at the right hand of God, because he was willing and obedient to suffer unto death, for the purpose that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone."
Just let your heart rest on that fact. We can't see, let alone know, everything. God's sovereignty often gets lost in the pages of our sufferings and struggles and frustrations. But we can look to Jesus a whole lot more clearly than we give him credit for: just by sitting at his feet in the pages of the Word.
But sometimes, our faith and hope get tested, and God's sovereign hand is veiled for a season. Or two. Or three.
Sometimes, we thought we heard a whisper, we thought we started off on the right path, we thought we were seeking God with all our heart. Then a giant roadblock hits the path, there is no way around it, and we are forced to turn back. Doubts assail our hearts. We weep with confusion and frustration and--dare I say it?--disappointment. It seems as though our Father has abandoned us, has left us to strive on our own, and has neglected the things he promised to us for so long?
What do we do with that? The easy answer is to gloss it over and repeat maxims of rote belief to ourselves. The easy path is to just follow the advice of others. The easy path is to trust ourselves. Our enemy is crafty and he knows, oh he knows so intimately, how easily deceived we are and how quickly we can adapt to spiritualize the most grievous things to make them "easier."
Easier is not what God is about, though. Not ever. I mean, remember that day, that Saturday of Easter weekend? The day where it seemed that all hope was snuffed out, where it seemed that the faithfulness of God was at an end. Sit in that same silence for a few minutes, remembering what Saturday was all about, forgetting for a moment that "Sunday's comin'." How quickly the easy path fades away in light of the sacrifice and death of God's only Son.
But God had not abandoned Jesus. Unlike the very popular thought: God did not turn his back on his Son that day. Not in the least. How could he? If he turned his back on Jesus in this time, how could he ever be trusted? No. Instead, He played a trump card, as my Romans professor points out. He played the ultimate trump card and Jesus did walk out of that tomb on Sunday morning.
So we can trust him. But, going back to the original question, what about those times when we really cannot see the faithfulness of God? What do we do with the thoughts if we refuse to take the easy path?
We embrace them. Because we. are. embraced.
Faith is not about a happy face that ignores the emotions that destroy and enslave us. Faith is about a joy-filled heart that weeps when it is necessary. That cries out in agony. That doesn't ignore but embraces even the deepest, darkest emotions that plague us, because to embrace our Jesus is to embrace the cross itself. Faith recognizes suffering as an identification with our Savior Himself. Easy? No.
Let me quickly give an example. Yesterday I found myself in a place I've never sat before. I went to a Summer Missions commissioning service, where several of my friends and about 100 others were prayed over, challenged, and prepared for serving as summer missionaries around north america and the world. For the past 2 years prior to 2012, I sat among them. This year, I was on the other side. Sitting there was one of the hardest things I have ever done, and you know I do not say that lightly. From the moment I sat down to the moment it was finished, I just WEEPED. Pain, agony, heartache, confusion, frustration--and about a million other emotions ran through my mind in those moments. But I cannot explain to you how freeing it was to be vulnerable as I allowed myself to cry more than I have cried in years. I was able to be vulnerable with God, with myself, and with those around me. Not everyone understood why I was crying so much or how hard it was. But my God understood. His arms of healing were around me. I asked Him questions and He gave me promises.
That is the constancy of faith. Not that all things are worked out. Not that everything makes sense. Not that everyone gets it. My Father gets it. He joins in the midst of it and is working all things out, from the messy inside out, for good. Not that I see it. But I do see Him. And that makes all the difference. He is constant. He is faithful.
"Lift our eyes, to greater things, far beyond our finite dreams. We lift our eyes to greater things, and set our hearts on eternity. Come and set our hearts on eternity." (from "Kneel" by Pinelake Worship)
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I've been learning a lot lately about hope and faith. I've been reading through a devotion called Jesus today, and its center is found in the hope we have in Christ. I've been slowing walking through Hebrews, where faith is the forefront of the challenge & encouragement. the unknown author is penning to his audience of persecuted believers. I've been seeing God's immense faithfulness to a faithless, rebellious humanity as I've been in a class on the book of Romans. The biggest lesson I've been learning? Both these concepts are unseen and yet are called upon every single day in order to keep plodding on in our journey with Jesus.
Now sometimes, we do get glimpses. God does tangibly fulfill a promise. He provides when we weren't looking. He guides when we weren't seeking. He answers a prayer we had almost given up on. I've been clinging to Hebrews 2:8-9 a lot this semester:
"At present, we do not yet see everything under Jesus' control...BUT WE SEE HIM, who for a little while put on humanity, becoming a little bit lower than the angels, now crowned with honor and glory at the right hand of God, because he was willing and obedient to suffer unto death, for the purpose that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone."
Just let your heart rest on that fact. We can't see, let alone know, everything. God's sovereignty often gets lost in the pages of our sufferings and struggles and frustrations. But we can look to Jesus a whole lot more clearly than we give him credit for: just by sitting at his feet in the pages of the Word.
But sometimes, our faith and hope get tested, and God's sovereign hand is veiled for a season. Or two. Or three.
Sometimes, we thought we heard a whisper, we thought we started off on the right path, we thought we were seeking God with all our heart. Then a giant roadblock hits the path, there is no way around it, and we are forced to turn back. Doubts assail our hearts. We weep with confusion and frustration and--dare I say it?--disappointment. It seems as though our Father has abandoned us, has left us to strive on our own, and has neglected the things he promised to us for so long?
What do we do with that? The easy answer is to gloss it over and repeat maxims of rote belief to ourselves. The easy path is to just follow the advice of others. The easy path is to trust ourselves. Our enemy is crafty and he knows, oh he knows so intimately, how easily deceived we are and how quickly we can adapt to spiritualize the most grievous things to make them "easier."
Easier is not what God is about, though. Not ever. I mean, remember that day, that Saturday of Easter weekend? The day where it seemed that all hope was snuffed out, where it seemed that the faithfulness of God was at an end. Sit in that same silence for a few minutes, remembering what Saturday was all about, forgetting for a moment that "Sunday's comin'." How quickly the easy path fades away in light of the sacrifice and death of God's only Son.
But God had not abandoned Jesus. Unlike the very popular thought: God did not turn his back on his Son that day. Not in the least. How could he? If he turned his back on Jesus in this time, how could he ever be trusted? No. Instead, He played a trump card, as my Romans professor points out. He played the ultimate trump card and Jesus did walk out of that tomb on Sunday morning.
So we can trust him. But, going back to the original question, what about those times when we really cannot see the faithfulness of God? What do we do with the thoughts if we refuse to take the easy path?
We embrace them. Because we. are. embraced.
Faith is not about a happy face that ignores the emotions that destroy and enslave us. Faith is about a joy-filled heart that weeps when it is necessary. That cries out in agony. That doesn't ignore but embraces even the deepest, darkest emotions that plague us, because to embrace our Jesus is to embrace the cross itself. Faith recognizes suffering as an identification with our Savior Himself. Easy? No.
Let me quickly give an example. Yesterday I found myself in a place I've never sat before. I went to a Summer Missions commissioning service, where several of my friends and about 100 others were prayed over, challenged, and prepared for serving as summer missionaries around north america and the world. For the past 2 years prior to 2012, I sat among them. This year, I was on the other side. Sitting there was one of the hardest things I have ever done, and you know I do not say that lightly. From the moment I sat down to the moment it was finished, I just WEEPED. Pain, agony, heartache, confusion, frustration--and about a million other emotions ran through my mind in those moments. But I cannot explain to you how freeing it was to be vulnerable as I allowed myself to cry more than I have cried in years. I was able to be vulnerable with God, with myself, and with those around me. Not everyone understood why I was crying so much or how hard it was. But my God understood. His arms of healing were around me. I asked Him questions and He gave me promises.
That is the constancy of faith. Not that all things are worked out. Not that everything makes sense. Not that everyone gets it. My Father gets it. He joins in the midst of it and is working all things out, from the messy inside out, for good. Not that I see it. But I do see Him. And that makes all the difference. He is constant. He is faithful.
"Lift our eyes, to greater things, far beyond our finite dreams. We lift our eyes to greater things, and set our hearts on eternity. Come and set our hearts on eternity." (from "Kneel" by Pinelake Worship)
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