When will it all be over?
Why are we still suffering?
Is God even listening?
All questions asked multiple times multiple ways and frequently in the last few days, hours, minutes. Simply living in 2020 seems extremely frustrating doesn’t it?
Recently, I had a wise man challenge me to, “Believe that God is really as big as he says he is!”
After I took off my coat of offense, I nursed that one a while.
Let me put some context to our conversation. We were discussing my first teaching assignment, and I recounted the neglect and utter deprivation some of my students suffered. They struggled to come to school daily and truly wanted to be there because they fully comprehend their only ticket out of their urban jail was purchased at the public education system. Over my years, God has gently grown my trust in him in myriad ways, but I still struggle when I witness suffering and neglected children.
In complete transparency, why me? Why have I always been loved by two amazing parents who still live well into their eighties? These two perfect people, according to my definition of parental perfection, taught me to love Jesus and disciplined me and provided the American dream. I passed along that privilege to my children. As an educator, I tried to demonstrate Christ’s love in practice in my classroom. But now I have left that physical place where I perceived my ability to directly love neglected children existed. I do not miss the daily teaching experience and the stress of it all. I prayed through the decision to leave the front lines of battle. I know I made the correct choice, but I still agonize in my soul for hurting children and feel a weight of guilt for leaving the direct assault.
I wonder if my friend will ever ask me how I am doing again; however, his wisdom provided great comfort, and I am glad I was honest and why I am being honest here. His advise reminded me that thoughts that torture and torment and cultivate doubt prowl like a roaring lion from an extremely different source, and they wait to destroy not to heal. (1Peter 5:8)
I needed to work off some steam to help myself take off my offended coat, because - of course I don’t doubt God is as big as he says he is - and cleaning helps me do this. Much to my surprise, I found this Christmas cactus. I simply sat down on my patio and had a good ole ugly laugh/cry. Me and my plants! Through writing all these blogs, I’m beginning to see that my love language is flowers. Any former student at WMHS can recall a delivery from Westside lovingly sent by my husband on all occasions or simply for no reason. Most of my inspiration for writing seems to stem from my garden. And here sits the most neglected plant in my home. It doesn’t even have a name. It sits in a broken pot. It is the one I gave up on and threw out the door and forgot about. Here it hides behind a pool float. Forgotten and alone. Not watered. Not loved. Suffering the terribly long hot summer in benign neglect.
So I bear myself before the question, do I believe God that you really are as big as you say you say you are? That almost becomes a threatening proposition. Let me illustrate. It’s the difference between real auto racing racing and the race track at Disney World.
In the real thing, I turn on the TV and pretend I’m a driver. I watch the race with no real understanding of how fast the cars go and no full comprehension of the risks undertaken. Someone else is in control, and receives all the real accolades and glory, but I like to pretend. I slightly enjoy the ride. Others around me are really into the racing more than I am. But I have to confess the part of me that secretly waits for the crash. That's the good part right? And thank God it’s not me!
That’s real racing where I think I am in control of life, but I am only passively participating or I have turned over control to someone or something else, and I’m not getting the full experience. And deep down, I know the crash is coming and yet… if I’m honest, there’s some tortuous enjoyment in the control of that too.
Now for Disney racing...I get in the car that can be so frustrating at times because it never goes as fast as I want it too. I bump along that track, ever guided by the straight, unbroken patient line. The steering is terrible because it never bends to my will. I floor the gas pedal, but it still goes at its pace. And finally, I give up and enjoy the amazing park and wave at all the onlookers and feel the refreshing cool breeze, because we are usually there in the heat of summer. I may bump along and get a little shaken up, but the controls guide me safely to the finish. I love that joy filled car race, even when I am a passenger and my kids are driving.
But here’s the biggest difference. I have to make the effort to go to Disney, and wait in line, and get on the ride. Real car racing I simply watch on TV. I will never be a Formula 1 driver, and I can pretend all my life, but I will never meet Lewis Hamilton. But with saving and effort, I can experience that Disney ride and the thrill, if I have enough faith to trust that the promise of the enjoyment of the ride is as big as it says it is. With 7.594 billion cars/ people on the road of life, I have to trust that God is as big as he says he is. I have to trust that he will leave the 99 and come find the one. His ways are not my ways.
Most churched up folks can spit out Philippians 4:13 to any neglected person and at this moment in time so many seem to be neglected. Needs aren’t being met - be they financial, mental, social - my list could stretch long. But Philippians 4:13 is like that marriage vow where the better, health, and richer get easily remembered and the worse, sickness, and poorer get swept under the rug for someone else or the attorney. Everyone must back the dump truck of 2020 up to Philippians 12 to get the bigger picture. The God is as big as He says He is picture...
I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I find myself. I know how to make do with little, and I know how to make do with a lot. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being content—whether well fed or hungry, whether in abundance or in need. I am able to do all things through Christ who strengthens me.
By the way...I named the cactus, Lazarus.
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