God doesn't promise us a certain outcome; He promises us Himself.
Tears streaming down my face, I wanted to scream at God. Never in my life had I felt such overwhelming desperation, fear and loneliness. In this torrent of emotions, Satan whispered, How could God be good if He takes from you the one thing you love most?
Where is God? And what does it mean to be in relationship with Him as we walk through hardship? How do we make sense of good dreams being ripped out of our hands?
Romans 8:38-39: For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
I can't pinpoint the day or the moment I believed the lie of the "Christian American Dream," but a thousand moments shaped my expectations for God and what He owed me. Somewhere along the way, I mistakenly came to believe that if I do the right thing (obey God's commands, surrender my life to Him, etc.), God will give me what I want and bless me with _______. I filled in the blank with my desire for a godly husband and children to love and nurture...
None of us are exempt from the struggles of living in a broken world. Life happens, and following God doesn't mean you will be "protected" from pain and loss.
Messy. That's what life is. Whether you follow God or forsake Him, it's messy. After all, Jesus Himself said: In this world you will have trouble, and Peter admonished early believers, Do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. One way or another, disappointment and suffering are inescapable. I looked to God's promise that "If you love Me and obey Me, I will make all your dreams come true," but I couldn't find it--because the world isn't Disneyland, and we don't exist to be entertained and happy and safe.
HERE'S WHAT GOD DOES PROMISE YOU
God doesn't promise us a pain-free life, a happy marriage, a healthy body, a house full of kids or a job we love. These are good dreams, but they're not guarantees. God doesn't promise us a certain outcome, He promises us Himself.
And where my heart bucks up against that truth and pushes back and says that's not enough, it's because I don't fully comprehend and live in the abundant reality of who Jesus is. How easy it is to view Him more like a vending machine-mechanistic, distant, and impersonal-forgetting "how wide and high and deep is the love of Christ." (Ephesians 3:19)
How do we untangle our expectations of what we think God owes us from what His Word actually promises us? We can cling even tighter to our dreams, trying frantically to piece back together the broken shards of glass, or we can release them into our loving Father's hands. We can pour our hearts out to God and invite safe people into the struggle with us, to be a witness to our pain and tangibly embody the love of God that feels so abstract. To grieve with us and hold out hope when we're on the edge of despair. To believe for us when our faith us shaky. To help us make sense of suffering, and when there are no answers, to rest in the rock-solid truth of what we know. God is here. Right now, in these moments of desperation and pain and longing.
You may feel like your life is over, that you will never be whole again. You may have a lot of questions for God. I did. Some days I still do. But I'm learning, bit by bit, to loosen my grip on the things I kept so close. Instead, I'm holding my dreams loosely and holding tightly to my loving Father's hands.
My (tragedy) has revealed how many things I was expecting and even demanding of God and how easy it is to use our relationship with Him as a means to the end of "the good life", rather than realizing He is the ultimate dream, the end, the One in whom we live and move and have our being."
(Acts 17:28).
God may not always give us what we want, but we can rest in knowing that He is at work, and perhaps especially, in the midst of darkness and loss. Shattered dreams aren't just something to survive. Recent research...suggests that the most life-shaping moments are often those that involve pain, trauma, and loss. Tragedy disorients us, often resulting in posttraumatic stress, but it also provides the opportunity for posttraumatic growth. Pain rips open wide our souls to God, so He can shape us into men and women we otherwise wouldn't-or couldn't-be.
One day, "Everything sad will come untrue," Samwise Gamgee reminds us in The Lord of the Rings, but it may not be today or even in our lifetime. God may not restore things exactly like they were before, but He will be there-He will meet you in those desperate places where your worst fears come true.
So next time you find yourself facing lions-perhaps even standing by helplessly as they rip your dreams to shreds-remember the story isn't over yet. There's beauty even in the midst of loss. There's hope even in the midst of pain. I can't guarantee you'll get a fairy-tale ending, but what I can tell you is this: Jesus will be there. He will sustain you. And He will birth new dreams out of shattered ones. This is the metanarrative that gives us courage and strength in the midst of suffering.
I can't pinpoint the day or the moment I believed the lie of the "Christian American Dream," but a thousand moments shaped my expectations for God and what He owed me. Somewhere along the way, I mistakenly came to believe that if I do the right thing (obey God's commands, surrender my life to Him, etc.), God will give me what I want and bless me with _______. I filled in the blank with my desire for a godly husband and children to love and nurture...
None of us are exempt from the struggles of living in a broken world. Life happens, and following God doesn't mean you will be "protected" from pain and loss.
Messy. That's what life is. Whether you follow God or forsake Him, it's messy. After all, Jesus Himself said: In this world you will have trouble, and Peter admonished early believers, Do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. One way or another, disappointment and suffering are inescapable. I looked to God's promise that "If you love Me and obey Me, I will make all your dreams come true," but I couldn't find it--because the world isn't Disneyland, and we don't exist to be entertained and happy and safe.
HERE'S WHAT GOD DOES PROMISE YOU
God doesn't promise us a pain-free life, a happy marriage, a healthy body, a house full of kids or a job we love. These are good dreams, but they're not guarantees. God doesn't promise us a certain outcome, He promises us Himself.
And where my heart bucks up against that truth and pushes back and says that's not enough, it's because I don't fully comprehend and live in the abundant reality of who Jesus is. How easy it is to view Him more like a vending machine-mechanistic, distant, and impersonal-forgetting "how wide and high and deep is the love of Christ." (Ephesians 3:19)
How do we untangle our expectations of what we think God owes us from what His Word actually promises us? We can cling even tighter to our dreams, trying frantically to piece back together the broken shards of glass, or we can release them into our loving Father's hands. We can pour our hearts out to God and invite safe people into the struggle with us, to be a witness to our pain and tangibly embody the love of God that feels so abstract. To grieve with us and hold out hope when we're on the edge of despair. To believe for us when our faith us shaky. To help us make sense of suffering, and when there are no answers, to rest in the rock-solid truth of what we know. God is here. Right now, in these moments of desperation and pain and longing.
You may feel like your life is over, that you will never be whole again. You may have a lot of questions for God. I did. Some days I still do. But I'm learning, bit by bit, to loosen my grip on the things I kept so close. Instead, I'm holding my dreams loosely and holding tightly to my loving Father's hands.
My (tragedy) has revealed how many things I was expecting and even demanding of God and how easy it is to use our relationship with Him as a means to the end of "the good life", rather than realizing He is the ultimate dream, the end, the One in whom we live and move and have our being."
(Acts 17:28).
God may not always give us what we want, but we can rest in knowing that He is at work, and perhaps especially, in the midst of darkness and loss. Shattered dreams aren't just something to survive. Recent research...suggests that the most life-shaping moments are often those that involve pain, trauma, and loss. Tragedy disorients us, often resulting in posttraumatic stress, but it also provides the opportunity for posttraumatic growth. Pain rips open wide our souls to God, so He can shape us into men and women we otherwise wouldn't-or couldn't-be.
One day, "Everything sad will come untrue," Samwise Gamgee reminds us in The Lord of the Rings, but it may not be today or even in our lifetime. God may not restore things exactly like they were before, but He will be there-He will meet you in those desperate places where your worst fears come true.
So next time you find yourself facing lions-perhaps even standing by helplessly as they rip your dreams to shreds-remember the story isn't over yet. There's beauty even in the midst of loss. There's hope even in the midst of pain. I can't guarantee you'll get a fairy-tale ending, but what I can tell you is this: Jesus will be there. He will sustain you. And He will birth new dreams out of shattered ones. This is the metanarrative that gives us courage and strength in the midst of suffering.
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