Beauty Unexpected

The whole trip started out on the wrong foot.  I left the house a good two and a half hours later than I’d intended and I still wasn’t sure I’d actually packed everything.  My CD player in my car is broken so I could only listen to the radio (Country music or Spanish channels only before much more than an hour passed) or the buzzy, staticky audio piped from my Kindle to the tiny speakers.  Storm clouds stretched across the horizon in precisely the direction I wanted to go.  Most of the time when I’m in the car for an extended period of time, I’m not driving which means car rides are an internal cue for “Nap time!” – the gray day did nothing the help me fight off drowsiness.

Yet for all that, I really didn’t mind the drive.  Sure the road was monotonous and the scenery generally uninspiring, but I was on my way to see a dear friend I’d not seen in months.  Plus, it was evidence that something good had come out of my jobless state – there was no way I’d’ve been able to take a week off for a road trip to Houston.  So despite the inauspicious beginning, busted CD player, and brooding weather, I wasn’t terribly bothered.  I just hoped I’d make it to my brother’s house before full dark.

I soon knew for certain that hope was not to be realized.  Just over halfway through my drive, I caught up to the storm I’d chased all afternoon.  The dark gray clouds alternately drizzled or dumped, as though someone couldn’t decide how high to turn the water on.  I had to turn off my buzzy music to concentrate on driving.  I could feel the reduced traction of my worn tires on the rain-slick road and gripped the steering wheel tightly.  Chasing the storm had been interesting.  Catching it was not.

As it drew near the sunset hour, I realized with surprise that rather than growing darker, the sky was suddenly lighter than it had been just a few minutes before.  Glancing out the rearview mirror, I saw the reason.  Though the storm clouds reached as far as I could see to the north, east, and south, they did not quite reach the western horizon and the setting sun lit them with a brilliant fire.

It was beautiful.

Amber, gold, coral, pink, and orange blended together in a glorious flame that was a total contrast to the gloomy clouds hovering like a dark blanket ready to snuff out the burning glow.  But this fire would not be quenched.  Part of me wanted to pull over and watch the stunning phenomenon but I also knew that when it was over, full dark would descend with a vengeance.  Still, I kept glancing in my mirrors, watching as the colors grew ever brighter and more intense.

Then, the sun itself dropped below the level of the clouds, the most brilliant part of the fire yet.  Someone, somewhere, I thought, is seeing a rainbow right now.

And then I saw it.

Right in front of me the most radiant rainbow I have ever seen appeared like magic.  I gasped aloud.  I could see every color from red to purple as clearly as in a child’s drawing.  To my right and left, the ends of the bow touched the ground and as I leaned forward, the top of the arch glowed against the darkling sky.  Beneath the arch, the clouds were pale and bright instead of dull and glowering.  My eyes followed the progression of light to dark and I saw to my utter astonishment not one, but two full rainbows, the colors in the outer bow almost as distinct as the inner one.  My jaw dropped.

Words failed me then, and still do, to describe the wonder of that sight.  In the midst of that gloomy day, week, month, here was beauty unlooked for and undeserved.  A gift from my Maker to lighten my weary heart.  Tears slipped from my eyes.  To borrow from C. S. Lewis, this was a beauty that pierced like a sword.  Like the sun that slipped through the clouds and illuminated the night, this splendor pieced the melancholy that smothered my joy.

As I watched the rainbows and glanced back at the sunset fire, it was as if God was reminding me that good for me can come out of my own storm of the heart, not just good for others.  I was thinking when I saw the sunset that someone could see something beautiful and hoped that I would be an encouragement to others in mine.  This was a reminder that my God is good and that he will bring beauty for me, his daughter, out of the storm, and not just use it for others.  My God loves me.  He gives good gifts to his children.  Though trials come, he uses them for good, not evil.

James 1:2-4 tells us to “count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience.  But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.”  And I don’t know how many verses in the Psalms I have read recently that talk about good things coming from bad times.  Seeing the rainbows and reading those verses have reminded me that there is a reason for every trial, every stormy season.  And reminded me too that to God, I am not insignificant and my struggles are not paltry things below his notice because someone else is facing something worse.  He cares enough to take a discouraging start to a trip and turn it to an encouraging end.

For as long as the sun was above the horizon, and even a little after it fell below, the rainbows beckoned me forward.  And even when they faded from view, the memory of that wondrous sight buoyed me up during the rest of the treacherous drive.  Though my trip seemed to have started on the wrong foot, I would not change any aspect of it.  I hope that the sight of that double rainbow will remain with me forever.

As the days pass, I hope you too can be encouraged by my story, whatever you may be facing.  Know that God loves you and cares for you as dearly as if you were his only child.  He is love.  His love is greater and far more encompassing than we can grasp.  He loves us just as we are, joyful or despairing, hopeful or cynical.  Yet he loves us too much to leave us as we are and will ever be chipping away at our character until one day, we are truly like him.  Trials will come, but his love is greater than all.

What's that on the ground?

It's what's left of my heart

Somebody named Jesus broke it to pieces

And planted the shards

And they're coming up green,

And they're coming in bloom

I can hardly believe this is all coming true

Just as I am and just as I was

Just as I will be He loves me, He does

He showed me the day that

He shed His own blood

He loves me, oh He loves me, He does

All of my life I've held on to this fear

These thistles and vines ensnare and entwine

What flowers appeared

It's the fear that I'll fall one too many times

It's the fear that His love is no better than mine

(but He tells me that)

Just as I am and just as I was

Just as I will be He loves me, He does

He showed me the day that

He shed His own blood

He loves me, oh He loves me, He does

He loves me, oh, He loves me, He does

Well it's time now to harvest what little that grew

This man they call Jesus, who planted the seeds

Has come for the fruit

And the best that I've got isn't nearly enough

He's glad for the crop, but it's me that He loves

Just as I Am by Andrew Peterson, Copyright 2003 New Spring Publishing, Inc.

It Will Be

Not so very long ago, I was reading a new book before bed.  I was completely wrapped up in the story, eager to know what happened next as the tension increased and the impact of the character’s decisions grew greater.  Then something happened that had never occurred before in my memory.  I had to put the book down.  I had to stop reading.  Not because something bad happened or the story just took a wrong turn.  Rather, the author had given voice to a concept commonly referenced in Christian circles but in such a manner that I had to set the book down and actually think about what it meant.

In the passage, a character named Jovann walks in the land of dreams where things may appear differently than in the waking world.  The Songbird, who is more than merely a bird, has guided him in the Dream before and asks Jovann to follow the new Path laid before him.  Jovann hesitates a bit but answers with the following:

“‘My Lord,’ he said, ‘I must find the phantoms who plague my Lady Hariawan.  Will this path take me to them?’

‘It will,’ said the bird.

‘Ah.’  He’d almost hoped for a different answer.  ‘Well.  That’s good then, yes?’

‘No,’ said the bird.  ‘But it will be good.’”

From Golden Daughter, Page 264.

Read that again:

“‘That’s good then, yes?’

‘No,’ said the bird.  ‘But it will be good.’”

It will be good.

There are a lot of things that happen in this life that are hard.  That are not good.  Death.  Anger.  Unfaithfulness.  Jealousy.  Backstabbing.  Disrespect.  Hatred.  But for Christians, we have the promise that “...all things work together for good to those who love God…” (Romans 8:28)

I’ve heard Romans 8:28 used many times as a comforting verse to people when things aren’t going well or when they’ve lost a loved one.  “It’s going to be ok,” we’re told.  “God has a plan for all this.”  What I think we often fail to consider is that “No” that comes before “But it will be good.”

As a Christian, I can take comfort and have hope in the fact that God will work all things out for the good and for his glory.  However, that does not mean that everything that happens in my life, or in the lives of others, is necessarily good in and of itself.  Joseph being sold into slavery by his own brothers and later spending years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit was not a good thing of itself.  The martyrdom of Jim Elliot Ed McCully, Roger Youderian, Pete Fleming, and Nate Saint was not in and of itself a good thing*.  Jesus’s torture and death in and of itself was not a good thing.  What came out of these events, though, was.

Because Joseph was in Egypt, he was able to interpret Pharaoh's dreams and assume a leadership position that enabled him to save his family (and the entire country) when famine spread across the land.

Because of the example of the five missionaries in Ecuador, their families were able to return to the Auca people and bring the Gospel to them and other people groups nearby.  Jim’s wife, Elisabeth Elliot, also has a far reaching ministry sharing the Gospel and fundamentals of Christian living in part because of the notoriety of her husband’s sacrifice.

Because Jesus humbled himself and took the punishment that was mine for sin and was tortured and killed, there is hope for the world.  I can be saved and become a child of the Most High God forevermore.

And those are just three examples I can think of off the top of my head.

Its easy to lose sight of the fact that just because nothing happens outside of God’s plan and that all things will work together for good, it does not mean that all things that happen are good things.  We live in a fallen, sinful, broken world in which bad things happen.  Often to good people.  It doesn’t make sense.  If God is good, why would he have all this evil occur at all?  Why use evil for good instead of just keeping everything good?  The short answer to that?

I don’t know.

Yeah, not a particularly helpful answer.  But I do know this: our concept of good is often far too small.

We tend to think that a decent job, a happy family, a nice car, fair weather, and faithful friends equal “good.”  But if we look at the larger context of Romans 8:28 we get this:

“28And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose. 29For whom He foreknew, He also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son, that He might be the firstborn among many brethren. 30Moreover whom He predestined, these He also called; whom He called, these He also justified; and whom He justified, these He also glorified.” (NKJV)

Now, Christians have been arguing about the whole predestination vs. free will question for decades (and will probably continue to do so until the end of time when God answers it for us) but that’s not what I want to consider here.  Rather, take a look at what we are called or predestined to:

“according to His purpose...to be conformed to the image of His Son”

God will work all things together for good - and that good, is becoming like Christ.  Its not health, wealth, and happiness.  It may well be torture, poverty, and death.  It is becoming more like Christ.  Christ, God himself who took on the most torturous death known to mankind all to save an ungrateful bunch of people.  Christ, who came to seek and save the lost.  Christ, whose love knows no bounds and whose grace has no limits.  No matter how how bad this thing is in and of itself, God can and will use it to make us more like his Son.

The times where we live in the “No,” when things are bad and life is just hard aren’t fun.  Sometimes, we “don’t want to know the end.  Because how could the end be happy?”**  But for those who trust in Christ, our hope is not merely a feeling or a desire for things to eventually work out well.  Its a certainty, a confidence that “it will be” good in the end.

Right now, I'm living in the "No." It isn't easy. I'm far more scatterbrained than normal and I'm having some trouble remembering every little thing that needs doing. But God has been good even now and has let me see glimpses of the "it will be." By his grace and through his strength, I will walk with him through the darkness so that in the end, he can work out his purposes and make me more like Christ. It isn't easy and it isn't pleasant but it will be good.

The things that happen because Jovann finds the phantoms that haunt his lady’s dreams are not particularly good or pleasant.  But in the context of the larger story, they bring about something that is good in a way the characters could not have imagined.  I had to stop reading at that passage to be reminded that sometimes, we live in the “No” and that’s okay. Because that "No" is followed by "But it will be good."

“Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,

“Let this blest assurance control,

“That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,

“And hath shed His own blood for my soul”

From the hymn It is Well With my Soul by Horatio G. Spafford



*Jim Elliot Ed McCully, Roger Youderian, Pete Fleming, and Nate Saint went as missionaries to Ecuador to reach peoples who had never heard the Gospel.  The Auca were known as a particularly bloody tribe and they were warned against going.  The men went anyway.  After meeting a few of the men of the tribe, the missionaries were hopeful that they could really begin to share Christ with them.  But instead, the tribesmen came against them and killed them.  though they had guns and could have defended themselves, the missionaries chose to die rather than kill those who had not yet received Christ in the hopes that their sacrifice would pave the way for the Gospel to spread among the Auca.  It did. The book, Through Gates of Splendor, by Elisabeth Elliot tells the story in detail.

**Partial quote from The Two Towers movie as spoken by Sam Gamgee.  :-)

Burdens Shared

There’s a saying that a burden shared is a burden halved but a joy shared is a joy doubled.  I’ve seen and experienced the second half of that saying but in this last month I’ve really, truly experienced the first.

Overall, I’m an introvert who’s also rather shy and awkward in normal social interactions.  I try but I’m not always sure I’m “doing it right.”  I show my heart and give my full trust to only a few but will gladly be a true friend to anyone who honors me with that title.  I want to be able to help others, to be known as someone fully trustworthy, someone to whom it is safe to confide your hopes and hurts alike.  But I’m not used to the idea that someone else might want to do the same for me.

When things grew suddenly difficult at work, I spent two weeks trying to bear the burden alone.  “My friends and family have enough troubles of their own right now.  They don’t need me adding to them,” I thought.  And I struggled.  I dreaded leaving for work in the morning - wanted to call in sick several times though I was physically fine.  The stress ate at me and I did get sick(ish).  When I got home, I wanted nothing more than to curl up under the blankets and hide (it didn’t help that the weather was rather dull…).  But I didn’t tell anyone that I was struggling because I thought I was strong enough alone and didn’t want to be a bother.  And there was one person I wanted to tell before anyone else and we just couldn’t seem to find a way to get together for those first two weeks.  It was not a fun time.  At all.

And then the meeting I was hoping for happened.  I got to tell my mom what had been eating at me for a fortnight.  And just telling her felt like I’d dropped a heavy pack - her encouragement after was like massaging the kinks out of my shoulders.  Then I told another friend and my brother.  And I wrote how I’d been feeling down and shared it with y’all.

It was like the sun breaking through the clouds after a thunderstorm.

My burden, my struggle, didn’t weigh anyone else down when I told them.  In fact, a couple of folks said it gave them relief to know what was going on because they’d seen that something was off but didn’t know what.  And for my part, I felt lighter, freer, more relaxed.  The weight wasn’t gone, but it wasn’t pressing me into the ground any more.  I could breathe again.

As Christians, we’re told to “bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ” (Gal. 6:2) and also to “rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.” (Rom 12:15).  Now I really can see why.

After my last post, I had a friend apologize for telling me about her problems with class and say that she wouldn’t have bothered me if she’d known what I was struggling with.  Maybe her problems seemed insignificant to her but I never want anyone to feel that way.  I’ve friends who are battling physical ailments and family problems and others who are trying to find the direction God wants their lives to go in but knowing their struggle doesn’t make mine worse.  Rather, it reminds me that I’m not the only one with difficulties to overcome.  It lets me focus on others rather than myself.

And it reminds me to go before the Throne of Grace.

“Casting all your cares upon Him for He cares for you,” we’re told in 1 Peter 5:7.  If sharing my burdens with other mortal beings who cannot actually change my circumstances makes me feel this much lighter, how much more when taking them before the King of kings who controls all things?  A not-distant King who walks among His people and will gladly bear us up if we will but ask.

Does this mean everything is smooth sailing?  That it’s all sunshine and roses?  No.  It does mean that I am never alone.  That my troubles are a passing thing compared to what will come.  Though the way may be rough and filled with turmoil, I have the truest of friends who will walk beside me into His glorious kingdom.  And that Friend has been generous enough to give me other friends and family who will lighten my burdens when I share them – and whose burdens I can help carry until the day when He takes them away for good.

“…In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33b)

Hope Unquenchable

As most of my friends know, my favorite character from literature is Samwise Gamgee of The Lord of the Rings fame.  His down-to-earth practicality, his unwavering loyalty, and his unfailing hope made him my favorite very swiftly.  I liked Sam’s lack of trust in strangers until they’d proven themselves – even among the Elves of whom he was in awe he did not immediately let down his guard. And then he killed Shelob too (my nightmare for years was being trapped in a cave with a giant spider in front of me – I never had that dream again after reading that passage in The Two Towers).  I saw myself in Sam.  Or perhaps, myself as I would like to be.

I recently came across a passage by Tolkien that said the name the Elves gave Sam meant “Hope Unquenchable” and that they called Frodo “Endurance Beyond Hope” for their efforts in destroying the One Ring.  That little snippet has been rather significant to me.  It’s two different kinds of strength – one to never lose hope no matter how dire the circumstances and the other to keep going even when hope is gone.  I have a friend to whom I would give the name “Endurance Beyond Hope.”  She’s much more pessimistic than I, tends to “see the glass” as half-empty, and doesn’t easily find the good in the world.  But you know what?  It doesn’t matter.  She keeps the Faith and keeps going.  And she is a lot of fun to be around.

That’s not me.  I’m “Hope Unquenchable” and I’ve only just begun to see what that means – and how hard it can actually be.  I’m having a really tough time at work right now.  A tough time that just exploded in my face and for which I was utterly unprepared.  I’m terrified in a way that I’ve never been before.  I’m used to the fear associated with going strange places and meeting new people.  As paralyzing as it is sometimes, it’s an anticipated reaction and I know how to deal with it.  Not so much right now.  I’m finding it really hard to smile, especially at work, which is a strange sensation for me.  When people at work ask the casual “How are you?” my response used to be “I am doing well” in an upbeat tone.  Now it’s “I’m ok” with the hint of a question or a sigh.  I don’t want to lie because I’m not doing well, but I couldn’t say that I’m terrified because my job that I enjoy is on the line.

And then I realized, I am ok.  Despite everything, I’m ok.  I’m not happy per se but that’s ok.  I feel like a deep river might when there is a storm crashing overhead.  The surface waters are rough and choppy, you can’t see a thing.  The river is a mess with debris clogging the waters and making it exceedingly treacherous.  It’s frightening and horrifying and it doesn’t seem like anything could be ok

But deep down near the riverbed, all is calm.  The current flows smoothly, steadily, heedless of the wrack and ruin above.  It’s pulling the mess along, dragging it further along the flow, dropping bits and pieces as it goes until the storm is past and even the surface flows clear again.

I’m in a big storm right now.  One that stirs the water at greater depths than I have felt them disturbed in a long time.  But the deepest parts still flow clear because my Hope is secure.  I’m worried and scared and more flustered emotionally than I really know how to deal with but that’s ok.  I’m ok.  I’m not despairing and still going on anyway because of my Savior.  Somehow, I find an undercurrent of hope – even hopefulness – instead because of my Savior.

I still don’t know what tomorrow holds.  I’m frightened of what it might.  I don’t want to leave my position here, especially under sour circumstances.  But even if that should happen, I’ll still be ok.  I will have hope that will not be quenched.

“I will lift my eyes in the darkest night for I know my Savior lives.  My Savior lives!”

--From the song “How Can I Keep from Singing Your Name?”