Fifteen small McIntosh apples one by one lost their red skin to reveal grainy flesh. Peel fell into the waiting trashcan in short, wide layers; I have yet to master Meg Ryan’s curly-q technique. Though a tedious task, these apples were bound for a purpose that kept me peeling — the promise of apple butter outweighed the monotonous work.
As layers disappeared, they unveiled hidden blemishes beneath shiny red skin. Brown scabs, bruises, and discolorations affected each one. These were not flaws of a bad apple – simply normal, just not noticeable from the outside. If you peeled away the layers of just one and compared it to the other shiny red ones which had not been peeled, you might think the one peeled apple was bad, that it was unhealthy and therefore useless.
Over the past few weeks, we have been focusing on some specific women’s issues with the girls in our ministry. We did an event called “Stand Up For Your Sister” during fall retreat, and just this past week we had a dessert and discussion on authentic community, bringing up topics like forgiveness and conflict resolution which seem to especially plague women’s friendships with each other.
And my hope and prayer through this is that girls stop comparing their flawed flesh with the shiny red skins of others.
Several girls have admitted to lying on their “Stand Up For Your Sister” survey because they thought they would be the only one who struggled with that issue: praise the Lord that they were able to visibly see that they are far from alone!
My hope is the same for you, whoever you are, reading these words. You know your own flaws and struggles and sins more thoroughly than anyone else in your life, so when you compare yourself to others, you normally compare your flaws to the assumed perfection of those around you. I know I so easily get discouraged at how often I fall and how far I still have to go, and I have a tendency to think no one else is experiencing loneliness or body image dissatisfaction or discontentment with their current life stage.
But the truth is, we are each flawed. We all have things we wish we could change or improve or resolve, but those things don’t make you any less valuable or worthy of love. You have been accepted by God, just as you are. He chose to save you when even you didn’t know about your bruises and blemishes. And He offers you a freedom that can only be found in Him.
Most days, I walk the dog in a hurried, let’s-get-this-over-with sort of manner. If the weather is pretty, we might walk the whole path at Gulley Park, but if he is having a feisty morning, or if I got a late start, we cut through the middle and he gets jipped.
I always thought my walks with the dog would be a significant part of my day, time in the morning to be with the Lord. But somewhere in between rolling out of bed and walking out the door leash in hand, I tend lose the desire for slow, for intentional, for quieting my heart. It becomes more about completing this task so I can move on to the next.
This morning, though, was different. Extended time with the Lord was a work requirement (what a tough assignment, right?), so Ridley and I wandered the trails at Lake Fayetteville, following the lake shore and the rays of morning sun peeking through leafy awnings. With one headphone connecting me to Pandora, a soundtrack of worship music played as we tripped along over roots and rocks and dirt. Normally I am staring straight ahead, but today I was aware enough to notice the acorns some squirrels dropped right in front of my path. I heard the songs of four or five different birds in a 30 second symphony. I found some of the first leaves who have welcomed the effects of autumn, proudly showing off their gold and crimson and tan.
The fall seems to consistently be the busiest time of my year. Between football season and cycling events and camping and weddings and campus events, my weekends are booked. While these are all fun things, the fall is a time when I want to sit and be still. To savor the slow change of life from sun and sweat and shorts to colored leaves and sweatshirts pulled snug over knuckles. The problem is, I don’t make resting a priority. I look for significance in doing, not being. And while the doing is good, I am learning that the being is what enables the doing.
This morning was the first time I have ever noticed the soft crown of an acorn. I’ve never found one so recently disconnected from the branch, I suppose, but the little caps hadn’t dried out yet. Pliable, feathery layers make up what later becomes roughly textured. Even now as I study the acorns I carried home, one of the caps has already dried up. The layers have formed into one, while the other nut still looks like that shaggy haircut every boy in ninth grade seemed to have when I was in school.
The window of time for catching acorns is brief. They will fall whether or not I am there to observe them — just as the leaves will change and the breezes will turn cold. If I want to soak it all in, I have to choose the stillness. The being over the going and doing. God’s presence over my to-do list will be a choice to daily make, but my hope is that being more aware of God’s gifts during this autumn season will fuel me for the going and doing that follows.
**linking up with Holley Gerth today: click the button below to check out her blog as well as other writers who are linking up to encourage others with their words
{Have you ever read the story of King David and Mephibosheth? If not, read it now in 2 Samuel 9.}
Inwardly, I know that I am crippled, but I do my best to hide it. I don’t want to live the life of a cripple, always needing to ask for help. I want the freedom of doing things on my own.
I tend to assume that the currency I bring before God is good. I try to serve Him with a pure heart, so I expect to be slowly healed of my handicap. After reading Scripture, though, I realize – and hate hearing – that my works are worthless to earn healing. That feels so harsh! I often prefer to think of it as simply the wrong kind, like I am trying to use US dollars in Uganda. But USD are worthless in Uganda unless you exchange them. And God’s kingdom doesn’t work with an exchange bank.
I am daily dependent on God’s grace, though I don’t always accept it or even want to.
I don’t know why I want so badly to do it myself. God’s generosity is a wonderful gift! I want to recognize His generosity the way Mephibosheth must have. I want to have the joy of knowing all is grace, all is a gift. But it goes against my natural tendency to want to prove myself and my capabilities.
The account both begins and ends with the statement that Mephibosheth was crippled in both feet (see verses 3, 13). Mephibosheth never got over his crippled condition. He never got the the place where he could leave the king’s table and make it on his own. And neither do we. (Jerry Bridges, Transforming Grace)
You, dear friend, are also crippled. You can’t make it on your own. As hard as you try, you will never find sufficiency in yourself for your job or your ministry or your relationships or your faith. Too often we try to do things on our own, assuming that it will help us grow. We think that we can practice walking to strengthen our legs – one day gaining enough strength to walk correctly and without assistance.
But the more I think about it, and the more I humble my own spirit, the more I am blessed by the knowledge that, no matter how hard I work at it, I cannot make it happen. It’s not that I need to try harder, and there is freedom in accepting that! If I know that something is just out of my reach — if I work hard enough, I can gain the strength to go just a little further — I can’t rest until I practice and accomplish. But there is rest in knowing that I need to stop trying to be good enough. I must daily live as a recipient of God’s generosity. All is grace, whether it’s my marriage or my ministry or my own walk with God. He will daily carry me to His table, and anything that is accomplished by me is by Him.
As you process through what life has handed you right now, turn and look to God to be the one to carry you through. Ask for eyes to see His grace in action, and let go of the burden that you just need to try harder. Make that choice daily to let go.
“Will any one of you who has a servant plowing or keeping sheep say to him when he has come in from the field, ‘Come at once and recline at table’?Will he not rather say to him, ‘Prepare supper for me, and dress properly, and serve me while I eat and drink, and afterward you will eat and drink’?Does he thank the servant because he did what was commanded?So you also, when you have done all that you were commanded, say, ‘We are unworthy servants; we have only done what was our duty.’” (Luke 17:7-10, ESV)
I’m the girl who will do just about anything for a gold star of one sort or another. I like recognition and affirmation, whether it’s for an accomplishment at work or the praise of friends for whom I have cooked dinner. It doesn’t even have to be an elaborate gesture of a gold star — I just want someone to notice the effort I put into something and tell me, “Thank you” or, “You’re really great.”
That’s why I cringed as I read the above passage this morning. Because, all too often, I look for God to give me those gold stars. I am selfishly motivated to obey Him and take steps of faith in hopes that He will reward me for being so faithful and sacrificial. I want to be on God’s A-Team, and high school sports experience tells me that, to make the A-Team, you are qualified based on skill and rewarded for your results.
In his book Transforming Grace, Jerry Bridges explains the reality of the situation this way:
If we want to live by what we deserve, God could say, “All right, let’s first add up your debits, and then we’ll think about your credits.” Our problem is we don’t recognize our debits. We don’t recognize how far, far short we come every day in doing what we are supposed to do. And because of that, we tend to live by works instead of by grace in our daily relationship with God.
I am a servant, and any sort of ministry I am involved in is what God has given me to do. It’s what He asks of me, and while being faithful in a little thing will often result in being entrusted with more (Luke 16:10), I am merely a steward of what belongs to God. It’s not about what I am doing on my own, as God is the source.
But even further than that, understanding grace produces a recognition that what He has asked of me, I cannot accomplish on my own. It’s only by His grace that I am equipped for ministry, only by His grace that I have financial support, only by His grace that I have favor with students. My response should be humility, recognizing that my “gold star” is the privilege of serving Him.
Where in your life are you living by works, looking for that gold star from God? What in your life is actually “only by grace”?
I awoke to the sound of the bedroom door being eased open in early morning.
Actually, eased might be the wrong word. The door isn’t hung quite right on the hinges, so it sticks against the frame and requires a little bit of a firm-grasp-and-yank technique, which is why it woke me up.
I opened my eyes in time to glimpse my husband slipping through the door and trying to gently shut it again. With the dresser clock glowing a 4:03, I tried to fall back asleep, but five minutes later I and the dog padded out on sleepy feet to ask why he was awake so early on a Sunday morning — this would be a normal time for him during the week, but not today. “Couldn’t sleep,” he replied. I sunk back into bed, but found that his insomnia was contagious. After forty five minutes of my own lying awake in bed, I joined him on the porch.
There’s something sweet about the mornings. I’m grateful to be able to wake up quickly and shake off sleep, especially in the summer with nothing in the darkness but the sound of crickets. Even the birds don’t awake till daylight, but the crickets sing through the dark and the sticky humidity still present at 4:52 a.m.
Perhaps one of my favorite things about the morning is the lack of distractions. I don’t feel obligated to start a load of laundry or do last night’s dishes. Social media is dead because everyone is asleep. And after enjoying breakfast (the dog’s favorite part of the morning), even he doesn’t require much attention. It seems easier to create space with meet God in the mornings, crickets forming a soundtrack better than any I used to study to in college.
I wish I made more space in my life to sit with God like this, like a child contented to just sit in her parent’s lap, asking nothing but the gift of presence. Too often I deny God of giving me His presence because I am too busy with the presence of this world, and that’s something I need to change.
But this morning, this time — it’s a gift. I might need to ask for the gift of a nap later on today, but for now, I soak in the warm air and the stillness.
Ashamed and most likely in tears, what was she thinking? Did she regret the scandal she had allowed herself to be involved in, the love she had convinced herself might be real – or did she simply regret getting caught?
And then the Teacher. The One some were calling the Messiah. What was He going to say? She knew what the Law said just as any good Jewish adult would know. Yet all He did was bend down and start drawing in the sand. She could barely bring herself to look up at Him for fear of what He might say. If He was Who He said He was, she couldn’t deny that she deserved punishment. She knew, no matter the outcome, that her reputation was forever tainted.
Centuries later, I find myself in the story as this woman in the middle of the circle, the one with all fingers pointed at her and no hope for redemption. Fear and Doubt both take accusatory tones, proudly revealing my infidelity. They testify concerning my surrender to their propositions, my undeniably faithless and fickle heart.
And I cower in shame.
Because it’s true. I have no defense except my innate brokenness. I have entertained both accusers for longer than I can remember, and though it started out small – as nothing, really – it grew. And as my sin is exposed to the light, I hear the accusing voices fade, and One Voice speak.
“I do not condemn you. Choose to sin no more.”
The unexpected response draws my eyes from the dirt to the One Who speaks. The One with love in His expression and compassion for my aching heart. He offers hope from my failure and rest from the weight of sin I have been carrying around. His reaction of mercy causes me to regret even more the ways I failed, yet at the same time seems to offer freedom from that regret which I can’t refuse.
Who is a God like you, pardoning iniquity and passing over transgression for the remnant of his inheritance? He does not retain his anger forever, because he delights in steadfast love. He will again have compassion on us; he will treat our iniquities underfoot. You will cast all our sins into the depths of the sea. (Micah 7:18-19)
And just as the woman who was caught in adultery in John 8, I realize that my Savior sees me not as what I have done or where I have failed, but as who He has created me to be. My identity is not based in sin, but in Him, and this is what convinces me to stand up, brush the dirt off my knees and my tear-streaked face, and walk away with Him.
This place has become hallowed ground, no longer where I was incriminated but where I was redeemed.
Have you ever wished that, if God wasn’t planning to remove you from a trial anytime soon, that He would at least tell you how long it was going to last?
I used to ask that when I was single. Lord, I am okay with not having a boyfriend right now, but can you just give me a hint of when I will meet him so that I can be content now?
Or when I was miserable in my job but couldn’t find another job. Father, please just give me some sort of “finish line” so that I can make it through all of this.
Or even now, while raising support, I find myself making this request. I just need to know when we will make it to the other side.
Living in a time-bound world, we want to know how to plan and what to expect. We think that if we can just understand God’s time frame, we will be able to endure where we are now. You can convince yourself when running a marathon or riding in a bike race to “keep going – just x-number more miles!” and you get to see your progress as the miles fall behind you.
But as Eric and I were talking about desiring to know more of how much longer the road ahead is, I heard a still small voice prompt me to research the Israelites.
Side note: God knows how much the Old Testament speaks to my heart – especially the Genesis through Judges portion. I am a wandering Israelite, but for some reason I can’t see my own sin until I point it out in those fickle people, and the Holy Spirit convicts me to turn and point to myself just the same way Nathan the prophet told David a story then said, “You are the man!” (2 Samuel 12:7)
So as I am processing timing and wishing I at least knew what to expect for this season, I turned back and looked at Numbers 14, when the Israelites rebelled and refused to enter Canaan due to the report from the spies.
And the Lord said to Moses, “How long will this people despise me? And how long will they not believe in me, in spite of all the signs that I have done among them? … I have pardoned according to {Moses’ plea for forgiveness of the people}. But truly, as I live, and as all the earth shall be filled with the glory of the Lord, none of the men who have seen my glory and my signs that I did in Egypt and in the wilderness, and yet have put me to the test these ten times and have not obeyed my voice, shall see the land that I swore to give to their fathers. And none of those who despised me shall see it. (Numbers 14: 11, 20-23)
I can’t say that they didn’t deserve this. For the love.
Yet I can’t be quick to judge, since my heart fears and doubts with the best (or worst?) of them. And can you imagine being told that you were going to have travelled all this way only to die in the desert, just like you were dramatically complaining about a few verses earlier?
Then imagine being their children. Those under 20 years old were not held responsible and knew they would get to see the Promised Land. However, God also explained that their journey would continue until all of the older generation had passed – and He wasn’t going to send a plague or something to accomplish that. There would be a punishment for their disobedience.
But as for you, your dead bodies shall fall in this wilderness. And your children shall be shepherds in the wilderness forty years and shall suffer for your faithlessness, until the last of your dead bodies lies in the wilderness. According to the number of the days in which you spied out the land, forty days, a year for each day, you shall bear your iniquity forty years, and you shall know my displeasure. (Numbers 14:32-34)
The Israelites were told in the beginning how long they would wander. The adults had to walk through the wilderness daily, knowing that they really weren’t going anywhere. Knowing that they wouldn’t arrive at the destination, and knowing that it could take up to forty years of aimlessly traveling, depending on when they died. Forty years of kids probably asking, “Are we there yet?” and being reminded that you would never get there.
Then imagine being one of the children in the generation who was still going to get to experience the fulfillment of this age-old promise. They knew they would get there eventually. But they also knew that it wouldn’t be for a long time. Even the oldest – the nineteen year olds – would be almost sixty before they arrived at their destination.
We still see rebellions and complaining and doubts throughout their journey, even though they know how much longer it is going to be. They are unhappy with the day they are living, even with the ability to count down the days until things are different. That finish line doesn’t help because they are still unhappy with the present.
So maybe knowing God’s timing isn’t the solution to surviving a tough season. Knowing the details of God’s plan won’t provide contentment in your current situation. It might even make it harder to live in the present, knowing exactly what awaits you.
I want to change the desire of my heart. Instead of desiring what’s a few miles down the road, I want to rest in the walk the Lord has for me today. To not “wrestle, just nestle” (a la Corrie Ten Boom). To claim the name for myself “Acceptance-with-Joy” (reference this blog post I wrote sophomore year of college, then read Hinds’ Feet on High Places because it’s the best).
I’m not sure I know exactly what that looks like, though. It’s going to take some work on my heart, I think, and eyes to see the gift of today.
Do you have any advice for how to live with joy in the present? What are you seeking to “accept with joy”?
most people seem to have some sort of story from high school that stands out in their mind as a low point. whether there was drama, or your most embarrassing moment, or extreme disappointment, things seemed to be the “end of the world” in high school.
i thought i had reached the lowest point of my life during my senior year of high school.
since i attended a fairly conservative christian school, we did not have school dances but rather formal banquets each year. this involved everything a prom does – fancy dresses, hair up-dos, corsages, limos, and dates – just swap the dance for the dinner. people started planning for this january event in september, since it was the only event of the year where people brought dates and therefore a big deal.
as a senior in high school, i had been going to the banquet since seventh grade, but had never had a date. my close friends told me that they were sure i would have a date for senior year, since a lot of people in our class were going together even just as friends, but they were wrong. i was still date-less.
determined to make the most of it, i invested in what is today still one of my favorite dresses i have ever worn (other than my wedding dress, that is). one of my friends did my hair, and i showed up to the banquet driving my ford bronco (which high school me thought was pretty sweet, even if it was somewhat difficult to get in and out of with heels on). of course, when i walked in, i realized that all of the tables seated even-numbers of people (aka couples), so most of the tables with my friends at them were already full. i ended up sitting next to my high school crush and his date (definitely not ideal) and having to get my own drink instead of having a date bring it to me.
{just for fun} we were the four “originals” of our class, having been at CCS since preschool
after the event, most people were going out to a fancier restaurant to get dessert before going to a student-organized dance (let the record show that it was not school-sponsored). i watched my friends all hop into a limo the boys had rented. their parents had shown up to take pictures of them getting in, since it was a surprise, and i stood with them. of course it was raining, and of course i didn’t have an umbrella, so i shouted to them that i would meet them at the restaurant then ran to my car.
however, i felt so left-out and lonely that i couldn’t bring myself to endure any more of being the only one without a date. so i just drove home. i kicked off my heels, put on pajamas, and cried while watching beauty and the beast. none of my friends even called to ask where i was and why i hadn’t shown up.
that was the low point of my life at the time. and i didn’t understand why God couldn’t have changed things for me. did He even care about 18-year old girls and high school?
looking back, i am grateful for my years of singleness. i am even grateful for the way high school played out.
God used it to protect and prepare me for my relationship with eric. it changed the way i viewed relationships and changed what i expected in a significant other. loneliness deepened my personal walk with the Lord. it even provided me with a platform to relate to some of my girls through camp ministry and college ministry.
God was intentional in the way He wove that part of my life together. i couldn’t see it at the time, though.
i can laugh about it now, especially since i would have a pretty easy life if that is the hardest thing i ever have to go through.
but i didn’t see the full picture, though high school sure felt like it was the only thing that would matter at the time.
the israelites were the same way, except change the long dresses and limos into sweat and brick-making.
moses came into egypt probably on the same kind of high you experience after summer camp or a college ministry conference. he had just experienced God through a burning bush, and he was ready to bring his people out of slavery. the people believed what God was going to do, and they were on moses’ side (exodus 4:31). however, after moses visited pharaoh and pharaoh refused his request, pharaoh significantly increased the workload on the israelites, who in turn got mad at moses.
Then Moses turned to the Lord and said, “O Lord, why have you done evil to this people? Why did you ever sent me? For since I came to Pharaoh to speak in your name, he has done evil to this people, and you have not delivered your people at all. (Exodus 5:22-23, emphasis mine)
neither he nor the israelites saw the full picture.
God spoke to moses and told him the end result (exodus 6:6-8), but He did not explain the “how” or the “when.”
it’s scary to not be able to see the next steps. we can know and even believe the promises in Scripture that God is with us, He will never forsake us, He works all things together for good, He will carry out to completion the good work He began in you, etc. etc. but without knowing the “how” or the “when” – without understanding what He is up to – it can seem like He has forgotten us or He has made a mistake.
God did the same thing right after the israelites were released from egypt.
Then the Lord said to Moses, “Tell the people of Israel to turn back and encamp in front of Pi-hahiroth, between Migdol and the sea, in front of Baal-zephon; you shall encamp facing it, by the sea. For Pharaoh will say of the people of Israel, ‘They are wandering in the land; the wilderness has shut them in.’ And I will harden Pharaoh’s heart, and he will pursue them, and I will get glory over Pharaoh and all his host, and the Egyptians shall know that I am the Lord.” And they did so. (14:1-4)
do you see how intentional that was? God told them to camp right in front of the red sea. where He knew they would be boxed in by the wilderness and the sea when the egyptians came pursuing them. He even told them why – that it was for His glory – but when the israelites saw the egyptians pursuing them, they freaked out.
They said to Moses, “Is it because there are no graves in Egypt that you have taken us away to die in the wilderness? What have you done to us in bringing us out of Egypt? (14:11)
and i can’t tell you how often i have the same reaction with the Lord when i don’t understand.
but the israelites didn’t see the full picture. and neither can we.
the Lord prompted me to make a list reflecting times in my life where things haven’t gone my way or it hasn’t made sense, then to look at it from the perspective i have now. whether it is silly issues (such as high school formals) or serious issues (such as the path i took after graduating from college that didn’t seem like where i wanted to go), God was at work. He was intentional in each of those circumstances, showing me that i can trust Him with the full picture.
obedience precedes understanding, and that can be difficult to embrace in the moment, but after recognizing ways God has shown up, i can take courage in moving forward, trusting that He will do the same.
or at least, i should. i have a feeling i will be like the israelites and continually question what God is doing. but He isn’t done with me yet, and i know He will be patient and continue to work this trust-thing out in me.
you should make a list, too. remind yourself that God knows the full picture and we just see a little sliver of the now.
y’all, it’s cold outside. unusually cold season for arkansas, i think. i am loving the randomly warm days, but it makes it even harder to go back to puffy coats and layers upon layers and the dread of driving while your heater warms up the car.
after christmas, i am always ready for spring. i have already worn my fun coats and hats and sweaters, and the weather is no longer romantic and christmassy. it’s just cold and gray and dead and dark.
i’ve been thinking a lot about longings lately. the way i long for spring at this time each year (today is considered the most depressing day of the year, after all) – for bike rides and picnics in the park and shorts and open porch doors. the way i am longing for consistent community. the way we are longing for financial stability and the ability to put money towards savings and paying more than the minimum amount on student loan payments. the way i am longing for us to be “fully-funded” and working on the college campus full-time with the ministry we are joining.
but the reality is, it’s winter, and cold, and not close to being over. it takes time to build relationships and invest in making those deep. the Lord is meeting our financial as well as our fundraising needs and I have no reason to complain, even if i’m not where i ultimately want to be.
but the longings i have are not inherently bad things.
so i am trying to figure out how to rest in reality while still looking forward to what is next.
paul the apostle dealt with this tension (though his desires might be a little more God-focused than mine) in philippians 1
For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me. Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell. I am hard pressed between the two. My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better. But to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account. (vv 21-24)
maybe part of the solution is found in verse 22 – what does it mean to be in the present? what purpose do i see in the current realities?
winter is necessary to produce spring.
we are trusting God for our daily bread and not living in an earthly security.
a season of uncertainty about the timing of the future produces more of a dependence on God’s sovereignty and knowledge.
God not only knows that i am here, but He has planned for me to be here. He led me here. and i want to rest in that.
but longings aren’t bad, as long as they are kept in perspective of submitting to God, right? so where does the balance come in? how do you find contentment now and joy in the longing of what is to come but hasn’t yet?
o holy night, the stars are brightly shining
it is the night of our dear Savior’s birth
long lay the world in sin and error pining
’til He appeared and the soul felt its worth
a thrill of hope the weary world rejoices
for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
so many words stand out to me in this well-loved christmas hymn, but the concept of “weary world” seems to resonate most with me this year as christmas approaches.
it’s not exhaustion from a busy schedule or too many people to see or anything like that – simply a weary heart.
weary from the roller coaster of decisions and changes this past year.
from craving God and not always seeing/hearing Him.
from craving community in a season that does not seem to foster consistency.
from not getting in the Word as deeply as my heart needs, which makes spiritual battles seem more challenging.
the picture given in the song is that the world was pining – longing – and exhausted from the wait.
romans tells us that the world is still weary, in bondage and expectantly waiting for the fulfillment of redemption promises.
for the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. for the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. for we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now.
ultimately, my weariness – our weariness – is a result of an imperfect world.
rest is temporary, happiness is short-lived, and seemingly ideal circumstances will not satisfy. in light of eternity, all of these things will end, and we will remain weary until we are ultimately redeemed.
i wish i remembered that more – in my moments of longing for different circumstances or more possessions or easier days, i am longing for the wrong thing. none of those things are the answer. they eventually result in longing for more, and exhaustion comes from clinging so tightly to the things i want to bring me contentment and happiness but don’t.
hope cannot be found in our circumstances. even if the circumstances are ordained by God, and i am hoping in what He has for me in the future, i am still placing my hope in something temporary and not in the eternal God.
and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. for in this hope we were saved.
He is the answer to my groaning, just as He is the answer to the world’s groanings. the picture in “o holy night” is that the weary world is brought relief through the birth of Christ. this is where the hope in this song finds its source – the baby born to bring salvation. the weary world is able to rejoice because of the “dawn” brought by Christ’s coming.
as i reflect in this christmas advent season on Christ’s first coming, i want to be reminded of the hope i have in His second coming. i want to look to Him as the answer to my weariness and not to a “hope” in my circumstances changing.
now hope that is seen is not hope. for who hopes for what he sees? but if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.
when we can’t see, we can recognize hope. a reason to rejoice in the groaning and the emptiness so often experienced in this world. there is joy in the midst of brokenness when we find that joy in the Savior, in the breaking of a “new and glorious morn.”
merry christmas, dear friends – may you rejoice in the midst of any weariness as you anticipate the coming of Christ.
samantha c. barnes 