The past three years have been particularly brutal for us, especially 2018--hardly a banner year. Financial hardships, legal battles, broken family relationships, medical challenges, and several deaths in our family have brought me to my knees more times than I can count. It has been an extremely hard year...so much so that Alex and I have made a habit of announcing how we cannot wait for this year to be over, to move into 2019, to get past all the heartache and trials and tribulations we've experienced. The funny thing is, though, that after I say that, I think how false that sounds. Because, despite sorrow and sadness and loss and betrayal, I do not look back and regret anything that happened. It sounds really strange, I know, to say that, and it is harder still to try to explain such a feeling; the closest I can come to an explanation is to say I feel a peace of acceptance. Not resignation, not depression, not hopelessness, and certainly not anger (although I have felt all of those emotions and many more over the past 36 months)--but just a sweet sense of "hey everything really is going to be okay because God does work all things for good...for those who love God." And most of all, I feel changed and improved and aware and thankful to be experiencing, first-hand, this beautiful process of sanctification. It's as if God is painting this really awesome portrait of how he sees me and what I will eventually become, and that all of the colors and shapes and lines and edges of this painting work together to make me into who I am ultimately to become.
And while it is easy to see happy, pleasant, and fortunate happenings work toward my good, it is particularly hard to explain to myself, let alone to others, how sad and horrible and unfortunate and unpleasant events work together for that same good. Our human tendency is to ascribe good feelings to good outcomes, especially those outcomes we can see immediately, while we view pain and sorrow and misfortune as "bad" unless we experience something "good" out of those circumstances in our lifetimes. In the Christian vernacular, good things are "blessings" and merit "praise reports;" talk about illnesses or depression or struggles evoke "oh honey I'll pray for you," as if events in our lives fall into two distinct categories of "good" and "awful." That is where I was for most of my life--the circumstances and events and my state of mind were weathervanes for how I felt, how I viewed God, and how I viewed myself. In my selfish, myopic view of life, I was convinced I was cursed, that I would never be happy, that God was punishing me for past sins. I felt plenty sorry for myself too. In a weird, reverse kind of way, I had bought into the babble of the prosperity gospel preachers--but instead of believing I was divinely entitled to health and wealth and happiness by being a believer, I was convinced I was being denied those things because I just wasn't doing it right. Too many Christians subscribe to the prosperity teachings, i.e. "love God and He will bless you and everything will be just hunky dory for the rest of your life." But there is nothing Biblical in those claims--throughout Scripture we are told we will suffer, we will have hardships, and we will all eventually die. Even Jesus, the Son of God, suffered and died--sinless and blameless, yes, but he suffered nonetheless.
Viewing life's circumstances as "bad" or "good," "lucky" or "unlucky," "blessings" or "needs" presumes we have some sort of crystal ball with which we can see the future, and how these events shape our lives. This also dangerously tricks us into thinking we are responsible for our own fate--follow the prescription for happy lives, go to heaven; if bad things keep happening, well, we need to try harder, pray more, do something--anything--to get on the good side of God and get those blessings, as if prayer is a tool to push God's favor toward us.
And, no, I have no secret decoder ring or magic formula to acceptance or peace or love. Every day I miss my Dad and my mother-in-law. Every day, I feel a twinge of sadness over the loss of my family because of lies and deceit. Every day, I struggle with pain and migraines and insecurity and depression and anger. But every day I have on this earth in this wonderful, messy, painful, hysterical, struggle of a life is fulfilling the plans God has had for me since time immemorial. And while I may never, at least in this lifetime, get to see how God will weave all of these events and moments in my life into something beautiful and wonderful, and then take my little life and weave THAT into His beautiful, glorious purpose...
Well, I know He has the wheel.
And while it is easy to see happy, pleasant, and fortunate happenings work toward my good, it is particularly hard to explain to myself, let alone to others, how sad and horrible and unfortunate and unpleasant events work together for that same good. Our human tendency is to ascribe good feelings to good outcomes, especially those outcomes we can see immediately, while we view pain and sorrow and misfortune as "bad" unless we experience something "good" out of those circumstances in our lifetimes. In the Christian vernacular, good things are "blessings" and merit "praise reports;" talk about illnesses or depression or struggles evoke "oh honey I'll pray for you," as if events in our lives fall into two distinct categories of "good" and "awful." That is where I was for most of my life--the circumstances and events and my state of mind were weathervanes for how I felt, how I viewed God, and how I viewed myself. In my selfish, myopic view of life, I was convinced I was cursed, that I would never be happy, that God was punishing me for past sins. I felt plenty sorry for myself too. In a weird, reverse kind of way, I had bought into the babble of the prosperity gospel preachers--but instead of believing I was divinely entitled to health and wealth and happiness by being a believer, I was convinced I was being denied those things because I just wasn't doing it right. Too many Christians subscribe to the prosperity teachings, i.e. "love God and He will bless you and everything will be just hunky dory for the rest of your life." But there is nothing Biblical in those claims--throughout Scripture we are told we will suffer, we will have hardships, and we will all eventually die. Even Jesus, the Son of God, suffered and died--sinless and blameless, yes, but he suffered nonetheless.
Viewing life's circumstances as "bad" or "good," "lucky" or "unlucky," "blessings" or "needs" presumes we have some sort of crystal ball with which we can see the future, and how these events shape our lives. This also dangerously tricks us into thinking we are responsible for our own fate--follow the prescription for happy lives, go to heaven; if bad things keep happening, well, we need to try harder, pray more, do something--anything--to get on the good side of God and get those blessings, as if prayer is a tool to push God's favor toward us.
And, no, I have no secret decoder ring or magic formula to acceptance or peace or love. Every day I miss my Dad and my mother-in-law. Every day, I feel a twinge of sadness over the loss of my family because of lies and deceit. Every day, I struggle with pain and migraines and insecurity and depression and anger. But every day I have on this earth in this wonderful, messy, painful, hysterical, struggle of a life is fulfilling the plans God has had for me since time immemorial. And while I may never, at least in this lifetime, get to see how God will weave all of these events and moments in my life into something beautiful and wonderful, and then take my little life and weave THAT into His beautiful, glorious purpose...
Well, I know He has the wheel.
We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair, persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies...So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison. (2 Cor 4:8-10, 16, 17)
No comments:
Post a Comment