Category Archives: Trusting God’s leading

Hope for a Year Unseen

I want to be like Lucy Pevensie when I grow up.

Always one of my favorite Chronicles of Narnia characters, Lucy lives with joy in the smallest of moments and hopeful appreciation of people—and any other kind of creatures—around her. Her relationship with Aslan often stands in contrast to her siblings’; as the first to find Narnia she seems to also consistently be the first to seek Aslan out and follow him. When the Pevensies return to Narnia in Prince Caspian, Lucy keeps looking for him—and is overjoyed to finally find him one night when the others are sleeping.

“‘Aslan,’ said Lucy, ‘you’re bigger.’

‘That is because you are older, little one,’ answered he.

‘Not because you are?’

‘I am not. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger.’”

C.S. Lewis, Prince Caspian

An Uncharted Year

With less Lucy Pevensie and more of Wile E. Coyote’s frenetic running around, I turn the calendar to a year unknown and unconquered. Page after empty page holds exciting possibilities of things planned and done and accomplished and crossed off the list.

The future is ours, right? What do we want to do with it? The next twelve months hold incredible potential for reaching goals and learning new things and trying new directions and generally attempting self-improvement.

But where is Aslan?

Like Every Year Before It

About a year ago we were looking ahead to the year that is now behind us. Unbeknownst to us, there would be events and changes that we would have never seen coming: highs, lows, in-betweens, and plenty of surprises that popped up unexpected. These last twelve months have shown us more of God at work, whether we realized it at the time or not.

In all of this, have we sought Him out? Or just tried to get things done?

As we turn to face the coming year, even more question marks—more “unbeknownsts”—fill our empty calendars. We don’t know what we will face this year. If it’s anything like every year before it, there will be some big surprises. Maybe some good ones, maybe some life-changing ones, and probably some we would rather not face.

But like Lucy Pevensie, if Aslan is there—we’ll be okay.

With Us Always

On the heels of the recent Christmas season, we go into the rest of our lives with its message ringing in our ears. There is born for you—for you—this day a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.

In ancient times, religious ideas mostly centered around elusive gods that existed somewhere far away from humanity. The gods of Greece and Rome, according to mythology, had their own problems and concerns and sometimes even wars with other gods. They were not very concerned with humans, but their attention could be bought with gifts and promises and sacrifices.

Can you imagine what it must have been like to believe in gods like that? To worry daily about which gods might be mad at you for your allegiance to one of their rival gods and what sacrifices you may need to offer to stay on everyone’s good side? To assume that bad things in your life came from an angry god or maybe just a disinterested one, intent on his own concerns somewhere else?

The Israelites’ God had always been different.

One God, not many. God All-Powerful, not one god warring with others for top-dog status. The God who writes all of history and brings His plans to pass and loves—truly loves—His people.

Even then, in the Old Testament, under the law, there was a sharp division between God and His people. When God came to speak with Moses, He warned the people to stay away from the mountain where they met. If they touched it, they would die. The temple itself illustrated this separation with heavy curtains dividing the people from God’s Most Holy Place.

But all that changed with Jesus.

“The Word became flesh and dwelt among us,” John wrote (John 1:14). Emmanuel has come, and will never leave. God. Is. With. Us.

Hope in the Right Places

“Everything that is done in this world is done by hope,” Martin Luther wrote. As we turn the calendar to 2018, we hope for lots of things. Better health, better habits, a more productive life, stronger relationships. We set goals and make resolutions that may start with some strength but will ultimately fizzle out long before we expected. If we hope that these resolutions and goals will make us better people, our dreams for the new year will be dashed long before Easter candy goes on clearance.

Hope.

Not in our own self-bettering strategies. Not in a world of progress.

Hope.

Well-placed hope—hope that God will walk through this next year with us as He did this past year and the year before that and every year into the past. Like Lucy Pevensie, waiting to see Aslan move, and trusting him to work out the details of the surprises that come our way.

“Wrong will be right, when Aslan comes in sight,

At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more,

When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death

And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again.”

C.S. Lewis, The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe

For the Fools We Are

Jesus once said that anyone who hears His words but doesn’t apply them in life is a fool; someone like that might as well be building their house on the beach with only shifting sand to hold it up (Matthew 7:26). In another parable, He told the story of a rich man who made plans as if he could guarantee his own future—but died that night (Luke 12:20). Another fool.

In the first eleven verses of Proverbs 26, there are ten unflattering references to fools and the choices they make. But before we rest in our self-righteousness, we read there’s more hope for a fool than for some of us.

Surely not us, right? We remind ourselves that we know what we are doing and we know how to make wise decisions and avoid foolish choices. We convince ourselves we’re really not that far off from the goal—not realizing how close our steps come to the edge of the precipice.

“Do you see a man who is wise in his own eyes? There is more hope for a fool than for him” (Proverbs 26:12).

Wisdom Never Comes From Us

Ask most Sunday School teachers about wisdom and they’ll point you to the book of Proverbs. Israel’s King Solomon, possessing “wisdom and understanding beyond measure” (1 Kings 4:29-30), wrote out common-sense sayings full of wisdom for whoever would listen to take to heart.

At first it all seems easy enough: Read the book, follow the rules, make common-sense decisions, and you will succeed beyond any fool who doesn’t listen. This is where we usually think we have it figured out.

“‘Who has made man’s mouth?’” God thundered after Moses’ list of excuses (Exodus 4:11), and we know He gave us even more than that. Who gave us any ability to think and reason and learn? Where did we get common sense, or even the guiding principles in the Bible itself? “What do you have that you did not receive?” Paul asked the Corinthians. “If then you received it, why do you boast as if you did not receive it?” (1 Corinthians 4:7)

While all this is true, we forget something even deeper than the source of our common sense. Perhaps we’ve reached the highest point of foolishness when we weigh all our “wisdom” and think it can get us home.

What is Wisdom? Really?

“The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom,” Solomon wrote (Proverbs 9:10). Too bad he forgot that.

Solomon’s wisdom was so great that it drew attention from far countries, yet he foolishly threw away his own kingdom by letting his heart stray from honoring God. He followed other gods and left the only God who gave him his kingdom and his wisdom.

Solomon’s problem wasn’t just that he acted without wisdom—he left the Source of the wisdom he had.

In the beginning of his letter to the Corinthian church, Paul points out that all the wisdom in the world never led anyone to God.

“Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, it pleased God through the folly of what we preach to save those who believe. For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men” (1 Corinthians 1:20-25).

Like Solomon who—despite his unsurpassed wisdom—left God for lesser things, all of our human reasoning and ideas don’t get us any closer to God. All the arguments and reasonings and writings and speeches of experts and philosophers and any other human beings never get us anywhere we need to go. All our collective wisdom is pointless.

“The fear of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom.” Solomon was right, even if he didn’t always live what he wrote. It is only through accepting our complete inability to find wisdom on our own and then trusting in the truth He has revealed that we will ever have any true wisdom.

When we do that, it won’t look like “wisdom” to most people.

Become a Fool

“Let no one deceive himself,” Paul wrote to the Corinthians. “If anyone among you thinks that he is wise in this age, let him become a fool that he may become wise…” (1 Corinthians 3:18-23).

There are only two paths, just two choices. Wide and the narrow. Building on sand or building on solid rock. Following the world and its dead ways or following the living God. If we choose the narrow path, with its rocky terrain and walls on each side, we will probably look like fools to most people. Are we ready for that? Are we prepared to be called a fool (or some other name) in order to follow the narrow path and truly become wise?

When the world’s idea of common sense diverts from what we know is God’s leading, the only wise thing to do is silence the call of the crowd and build on rock instead of sand. When we walk away from our own “wisdom” and embrace the words of God, as foolish as we may look to others (and sometimes feel ourselves), we are wiser than we ever were on our own.

Hope

Jesus told a story of two men praying at the temple. One, a self-righteous teacher of Jews, prayed with pomp and pride and puffiness, reminding God that he was actually a pretty good person if you look at it right. A tax collector stood next to him, despised by his fellow citizens and essentially excommunicated by religious leaders, offering a simple prayer:

“‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’” (Luke 18:13b)

The tax collector wasn’t pretending to humbly refuse what he secretly felt he had earned, but was bluntly acknowledging truths he admitted he saw in himself. This wasn’t false humility or even common sense, but a right understanding of himself, of God, and of mercy. And wisdom.

We will never be as wise as we sometimes think we are, and that’s okay. There is hope for all of us in the encompassing and inescapable love of God and His gentle guidance. He knows our failings, loves us anyway, and leads us by still waters so as not to throw us off (see Psalm 23). As we go about each day, making foolish decisions and forgetting wiser options, His grace never changes or runs out and He never changes His mind about us. We are wiser in this path of grace than on any road of common sense.

Father, be merciful to all of us sinners. All of us fools.

Three Things to Remember When Facing Regret

Recently my brother and I found ourselves in NYC, on a trip we had dreamed about for years and planned for months. I couldn’t believe we were actually—finally—in New York City. Every step was exciting, every obscure building a photo op.

As the days flew by, I quickly realized things I wished we had done differently. For instance, we didn’t plan as much time for the 9/11 Memorial & Museum as I would have liked, and we had to speed through the last exhibits in the Museum. I also wished we had called our hotel ahead of time to ask about baggage storage after checkout; had we known about that cheap option we would have chosen later flights on our departure day and had one last sightseeing opportunity.

At some point in life, each of us will have regrets about harder things than travel plans. Most of us already do. When the what-ifs and if-onlys in plague our memories, here are three things it helps to remember.

We Are Not Perfect

We will not lead perfect lives. We are not strong enough or wise enough to do everything right, and to be human is to belong to that globally inclusive club of Those Who Mess Things Up. As Christians, we know that one of the Gospel’s central truths is that we will never be perfect—and we don’t have to be.

It is one of the ironic things of life that this truth is more liberating than condemning. Since we know that we and everyone around us will fail sometimes, it is not as much of a shock to us when we do.

God is Bigger Than Our Failures

“Now to him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you blameless before the presence of his glory with great joy, to the only God, our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, dominion, and authority, before all time and now and forever. Amen” (Jude 24-25).

No matter how serious our mistakes and problems, they cannot be greater than the power, grace, and love of God. Far from it: our greatest failure became His deepest gift of redemption. I mean, really. Think you’ve messed things up? Talk to Adam and Eve in the garden, with fruit juice staining their hands and nakedness taunting their conscience.

He knows our hearts. He knows we will never be perfect on our own. No matter how many mistakes and failures occur between now and heaven, our imperfections are covered by His perfect grace.

Because our perfection no longer depends on what we do.

When We Fail We Lose Nothing

So we should have done it differently, and we didn’t. We may be frustrated with our own ineptness, or, in a more serious situation, grieve what could have been had we done things right. We may need to apologize and seek forgiveness, depending on the mess we made this time.

But then we move on. We don’t have to live in that failure, or build up layers of restitution until we earn our way out of debtor’s prison. All the important things are still true, untouched by our inability and failure and stupidity.

God is still on His throne. We are still His people. He is still writing our story and everyone else’s, and no matter what glitch we think we caused in this chapter, He has already made it into something good that we will see with time.

Our faith is founded (partially) on our failure to be good. Catch that? Our faith is founded on our failure. Through the sacrificial death of Christ, our perfection is found in our identity with Him. Our failures can’t touch that.

In all those little and not-so-little messes of our own making, our identity stands strong and firm in the righteousness gifted to us by Christ. We don’t lose any standing with God or drop a rung on the ladder to heaven. Our relationship with Him is a gift, and will stay that way regardless of our stumblings.

When Those Regrets Come

As we travel through life, there will be problems in the journey. Dreams-come-true morph into mild disasters and our best efforts disintegrate into Have-I-Ever-Told-You stories.

We will have regrets. As we lay them at the feet of the God who sees our faltering efforts and knows our weak human hearts, we can trust He will keep us from stumbling too far and that His grace can cover all our if-onlys. Each of our regrets drives us to Him who does all things well, and who welcomes us with all our failures still attached.

“Safer Than a Known Way: Discover How Liberty in Christ Lies in Surrender”

Pamela Rosewell had three reasons to hesitate. The twenty-one-year-old from Hastings, England, worried that if she followed God completely, He would call her to great lengths in her newfound faith. She could not risk being called to 1) travel outside her native England, 2) speak in public, or 3) be single for the rest of her life.

Anything but that.

Unlikely Stories

When I first cracked the cover of The Hiding Place and finished its last page that same night, I was hooked. Since then I’ve been thrilled to find each new glimpse into the incredible story of the watch shop on the Barteljorisstraat and the unassuming family who lived upstairs.

After devouring several resources on the most exciting points of Corrie’s life, I read The Five Silent Years of Corrie ten Boom, learning for the first time in detail of the stroke-induced silence of Corrie’s last years. What a surprising ending to such a vibrant life. The Five Silent Years was written by Pam Rosewell, Corrie’s personal travel assistant and eventual caregiver, who later wrote a second book: Safer Than a Known Way.

Corrie’s story is an unlikely one of an ordinary family of middle-aged and elderly Christians simply trusting and obeying God—and spearheading Haarlem’s resistance to Nazi horrors. Pam’s story is of an ordinary young woman intent on leading a normal and easy Christian life—and finding excitement and joy in parting with what she thought she could never give up.

For both of them, their lives were much different than their expectations. For both of them, their God was faithful.

“There Were Changes Ahead That I Could Never Have Imagined”

It really started with Sylvia.

Pam’s eighteen-year-old sister Sylvia begged her to attend a Christian conference. At 21, Pam wasn’t interested in her sister’s religious enthusiasm. “I wanted to follow Christ from a distance,” she wrote later. “To follow closely might mean He would ask of me something I could never do.”

But she went anyway, determined to participate as little as possible.

It was a determination she would not be able to keep. Despite her strongest intentions, just a few hours into the event, Pam wholeheartedly surrendered every part of her life to God. “I knew that [my surrender] was real and that it would last…God had revealed His love to me and had moved into my life on this particular night, giving me grace to surrender.”

But this was only the beginning.

Always an Adventure

Pam’s first international trip was a year-long mission assignment in Africa. Soon after, she began working with Brother Andrew in Holland and eventually agreed to accompany Corrie ten Boom on her travels all over the world. Her earlier commitment to never leave England’s shores had given way to an exciting life full of new people and places—and Pam was surprised to find that, most of the time, she actually enjoyed it.

Years into her travels, churches began inviting her to speak about her experiences to their congregations. “Although I continued to be nervous,” Pam wrote, “public speaking had lost its terror. People listened and responded. I saw that God used me and this fulfilled me deeply.”

Pam had now faced two of her three fears. God had been with her in her fears, and He had used those experiences she had dreaded to enrich her life more than she could have expected.

Through all of these things, Pam was single. She spent years caring for a woman who had been single all her life, and, in light of all she had learned through facing her first two fears, lifelong singleness was very possible for Pam.

Once Tante Corrie (as many called her) asked Pam if she was content to be single. Pam realized she was. Whether or not her singleness would be lifelong (and you’ll have to read the book to find out!), “I had to believe that this difficult way that I was now taking was…His perfect way for me.”

Safer Than a Known Way

Why do we always give our surrenders with caveats? Why do we think we have any right to ask God to meet our stipulations?

Even when we think we have surrendered wholeheartedly, we usually haven’t. As soon as things start unraveling, we grumble and question and give our human reasons as to why we shouldn’t be in this situation.

This isn’t what I had in mind. This isn’t what I expected. This isn’t what I signed up for.

If we would only give it all away—all the doubts, all the questions, all the fears.

Pam did. Soon she found herself facing the very things she had vowed to never risk. But in that road, in that way, she found so much more than just a neat and comfortable little Christian life. This life was so much better.

“Yet God has fulfilled my life through the very things I feared…I would so much like to tell people that they have nothing to lose in trusting God with all their lives…Only the Lord sees the end of my story. It is not in my control. But I do know this: when I surrender to Him, I am safer than if I had chosen a known way.”

More and More

It seems to be a first-world, 21st-century dilemma that we get whiplash from all the possibilities we have to do good around us. Sometimes we simply don’t know what to do with all of our options.

Should I devote myself to overseas missions? Pro-life causes?  The orphan and the widow? The homeless?

We seek out God’s guidance in our own lives, and that is good. But sometimes our murky understanding of “God’s will” leads us to expect unforgettable “Eureka!” moments of unearthing it. We look for black-and-white, unmistakable signs of what should be our life’s passion and greatest work.

We wonder what God has for us next, or would have us do now, or what He has waiting for us. Our questioning and seeking begs the question—is it something different? Is it something we don’t yet have?

Keep Going on the Road You’re On

During a time of great pressure and crises for the early church, Paul wrote to the Thessalonian believers. He was suffering. Others were suffering. Paul feared all the suffering would discourage the Thessalonians from their faith, but was overjoyed when Timothy reported the opposite (1 Thess. 3:1-5). In that situation, in that time, how did Paul counsel the Thessalonians to live and act and pursue their purpose?

He didn’t ask them to start any new initiatives or reforms. Didn’t suggest starting their day with a to-do list, or dreaming big to decide how to spend their time.

Paul asked them to remember.

“Finally, then, brothers, we ask and urge you in the Lord Jesus, that as you received from us how you ought to walk and to please God, just as you are doing, that you do so more and more” (1 Thess. 4:1).

More and more.

We taught you to love each other, Paul reminded the church. Remember how we talked about living in faith? Keep doing that. Just do it more.

Paul prayed for the church in Thessalonica, but not that they would discern, discover, or otherwise find out the will of God for them. He didn’t pray that they would move on to the next step or start the next phase.

He prayed that they would continue on the road they had chosen. That what they had begun to understand they would live out more often. That what they had started doing they would do more often. That the way of life they were called to would define them “more and more.”

Not Always Different

It’s as if Paul thought they already had what they needed. They didn’t need something new.

More often than not, my days are driven by my own American sense of aiming for the stars and getting something done. Something bigger than daily, seemingly-small obedience.

Really, what can we do? We keep looking around us for ideas, seeking a way we can be a part of what God is doing.

As if we don’t think it counts to just be His. As if we think we have to earn our place. As if we think He can’t lead us without our help.

But He loves as His children, He earned it for us, and if He has led us this far we can trust Him to get us home.

Now that we are here, at His table, all we have to do is follow Him. Every day.

Maybe seeking God’s will for my life is often less about doing something different and more about doing something more. If you and I are living in love, walking in righteousness, and seeking Him daily, then we are already doing what He wants. We just need to do more of it.

We may have big dreams, and we could go on a grand adventure. There will likely be crazy twists and turns in the road ahead of us. But the heart of His will for us is to keep on keeping on in what we’ve already begun to learn, to increase, to keep growing. And to do so more and more.

“Now may our God and Father himself, and our Lord Jesus, direct our way to you, and may the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all, as we do for you” (1 Thess. 3:11-12).