This was the last line of my devotional this morning. I'm trying to think of an appropriate time marker to delineate when the trouble in my life began: about two months ago . . .no, about six months ago. . .well, technically, two years ago. . .but of course. it was more like three, then four, then ten years ago. I guess it's safe to say that trouble, challenge, and difficulty have been my closest partners throughout my entire life. As is the case for anyone who breathes air, to be alive is to experience conflict. No one is free from it.
Likewise, everyone reacts differently to it. Some fight. Some drink. Some withdraw. Some succeed while others fail. I think the best word to describe how I approach trouble in my life is absorb. When something bad, stressful, or disappointing happens, I absorb all of the negativity. Like a sponge, I suck up the emotions, the road blocks, and the problems and become heavy, logy, overloaded. Eventually, I can absorb no more, and some of it begins to leak out. Sometimes, the overflow leaks from eyes and flows alternately as a quiet stream or a wild flood. Other times, my mouth is a fire hydrant through which all the stress blasts, and anyone in the closest vicinity is doused with an unexpected and surprising torrent.
The head-fake about trouble is that we think there will be an end to it. We hope. That is the capacity of humans: The inexplicable belief that it can't last forever. But for as long as we are on this side of heaven, it will last. And where one issue ends, another will take it's place.
While that sounds ever-so-pessimistic, the good news is that none of it is random. Coincidence is not a word in God's vernacular, nor should it be in ours. When trouble begins, it is allowed because it is an integral part of a carefully-crafted training plan.
Romans 5:3-4 ". . . because we know that suffering produces perseverance; 4 perseverance, character; and character, hope."
This verse helps me find peace and joy when I'm in the thick of it because it helps me realize just how important I am to God. He allows this trouble in my life because I am worth it. I am a special project. He is so concerned about my character - who I am becoming in Him - that He allows this garbage to keep happening. He has a special goal in mind - a particular job that He has in mind for me. Therefore, it is important for me to keep training as preparation for what's to come. I am such a hot mess, and yet, there is something in me that He sees, that He finds exceptional and valuable, and that's why He keeps pushing me. He needs just me to fulfill a special role He has in mind, and He won't settle for nothing than my best.
And I believe - with my whole heart - that the end game is going to overwhelm me- in ways I would never have imagined. The outcome will be greater and better than anything I could have dreamed up or reasoned with my limited humanity. Romans 8:28 "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." God knows my heart; He knows who I truly am and what I truly desire, even when mixed messages and outward failures are the only thing that others remember or see of me.
And yet, there are times when it feels as though it is too much. In fact, it always feels as though it is too much, and I ask Him, "Are we there yet? Is this the very worst it could be? Have we reached the bottom, so I can push off and reach the surface?" Not surprisingly, He doesn't answer, and I don't think I really want to know anyway. I just do the only thing I can think of to do - the only thing that makes any sense: I hang on. Tight.
Let me explain.
Whenever trouble threatens to overwhelm me, I call to mind an image, a portrait that I have created in my head. In the center of my painting is a large, ancient willow tree. The trunk is so vast that I can only wrap my arms around a portion of it. In this painting, I am a five-year-old version of myself, and as I play in the grass near the tree, a fierce storm erupts. The sky turns black, and a vicious wind roars like a freight train. Rain and hail sting my skin as I run for the shelter of the tree. Once under the long branches, I grasp the trunk as tightly as I can, burying my face in the cool, dark bark. Slowly the branches of the willow tree encase me, and I no longer hear or feel the effects of the storm as it rages. I am safe.
And so, I keep holding on. I have no idea how long the storm may last, but I feel safe and secure. The bark may scratch my cheek, and my legs may ache from standing in one place, but I'm not going anywhere; this is exactly where God wants me. If stay close to Him, He will see me through.
Hebrews 10:36 "You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what He has promised". . .and then some.
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