Monday, July 22, 2019
Welcome: Who’s Calling? with Carolyn Roper
Welcome: Who’s Calling?
Years
ago David and I were at a conference where one of the speakers was
addressing the misconceptions people hold of God. I still remember the
speaker saying that for some the thought is, “If I come to God and
follow Him, He’ll say ‘Ah ha! Gotcha! Now spinach three times a day for
the rest of your life.’” (Kale was not a biggie back then.)
None
of us have a complete picture of the God who calls and welcomes us, for
we only see “the edges of His ways.” We may hear and even embrace the
fact that God calls us Beloved. But then things happen.
“There were many years I thought Jesus was the mean coach who told me I had to sit on the bench....and like it!”
Our
friend Kathy recently sent a note including the words above. I don’t
know what “things” happened, but to me her image was powerful. I get
it.
I
think we can feel benched when we lose something precious to us:
health—that we or a loved one once relied on, or when we lose a family
we had so desired. We might lose the dream we had for a child. This
could come if that child dies, or has constant struggles or is walking
in a far country. Maybe we lose a ministry opportunity or the results we
wanted in a ministry. Perhaps we have a failure of faith or are
betrayed, excluded or forgotten. Perhaps we feel stuck in a place we
would rather not be. The thing that can cause us to feel “benched” can
be anything we have but don’t want, or anything we want but don’t have.
Fill in the blank in your life.
But
then, on top of the sadness to think that God says “sit….and like it!”
Ooooh. That thought can take the heart out of me. Not only am I a loser
(because of my losses) but a failure because I don’t “like it.”
And worse than that, I become suspicious of this God who calls me to
come close when I think He has taken me out of the game I love because
I’m not good enough.
I
have a dear friend whose school-aged child died. A well-meaning person
who was a Bible teacher came to be with my friend. Patting her on the
shoulder, the visitor said to the weeping mother, “Don’t cry!” Agony
upon agony. More hurt. “Like it!”
The good news from the note we received is that there was more.
“There were many years I thought Jesus was the mean coach who told me I had to sit on the bench....and like it! When I learned He was crying with me it changed everything.”
Jesus told us in this world we will have tribulation. It’s a world of great grief, as Aslan said to Digory in The Magician’s Nephew.
Digory was feeling very sad because his dear mother was very ill. He
asked Aslan to heal her. When he looked into Aslan’s eyes they were
bright with tears.*
Jesus
weeps with us when we weep. He does as He tells us to do to one another
(Romans 12:15). He is not put off by our sorrow. Rather He is touched
by the feelings of what hurts us (Hebrews 4). He’s been there too. He
wept over the death of his friend Lazarus. He wept over those who would
not come to Him and be sheltered and comforted “under His wings.” Jesus
wept (John 11:35). And He weeps with us when we weep.
Knowing the tender heart of God towards us in our sufferings can change everything, as it did for our friend Kathy Woodhall.
When Moses asked God to show him His glory (Exodus 33) God said, “I will show you my goodness.”
Part of that goodness is that He weeps with us as we walk the road
before us. He knows that grief is great in our land. He sees. He cares.
He stays with us. Jesus Himself groaned in Gethsemane and walked on to
Calvary so that we, too, could share in “the joy set before Him.” This
anticipated joy enabled Him to endure the pain of this life, including
the final pain of the Cross so that He could bring us Home at last.
Since
the welcome of Jesus includes His weeping with us, I want to take Him
up on His offer and draw near, even when I am weeping. Especially when I
am weeping. As I understand His tender heart I am strengthened as well
as comforted on my journey. As I remember His goodness, His tenderness,
His weeping with me, I am motivated to trust Him with my losses, with my
life, and with my loved one. And to do the next thing He asks me to
do.
“There
were many years I thought Jesus was the mean coach who told me I had to
sit on the bench....and like it! When I learned He was crying with me
it changed everything.”
Lord
Jesus, we celebrate and rejoice in Your everlasting love for each of
us. We know that our “mourning will be turned to dancing”— either here
or certainly There. We count on the joy set before us and we count on
Your weeping with us in our losses here and now. Thank You, for Your
welcoming heart where we don’t have to pretend a loss doesn’t hurt.
Thank You, for the Hope that only You can bring. Thank You for the cost
You paid to love us well. Help us to love you back and to show our love
for You by loving Your other children the way You love us. Amen
Carolyn Roper
7.22.19
*In The Magician’s Nephew, later
in the story, Digory was tempted to not complete the task Aslan had
given him. His temptation was to find his own way to heal his mother at
the cost of not following Aslan’s instructions. But when Digory
remembered Aslan’s tears, he trusted Aslan and did as He had asked. Of course, the outcome was much better than Digory could have expected. The book is a good read…again.
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