As I sat recently with my sister-in-law, we began discussing the sovereignty of God which led to a discussion regarding the will of God in various situations in this life. What do you do with the phrase, "I guess this is God's will"? How about when someone says, "I will pray that God's will be done." That's great - if I like God's will in this circumstance. But what if I don't? Sometimes this phrase can feel like giving up. The tone implies submission but sounds like forced surrender. Acquiescence even when I would prefer to dissent. What does it mean to say, "God's will be done"?
Was it God's will that Katie develop cancer and die? Was that his plan? Was it a suffering he allowed to happen? Is there a difference between any of those? The short answer is I don't know. What I do know - and what helps me a little as I wrestle with this - is that God's desire for this world is shalom. His original creation was for shalom and his ultimate plan is for shalom. Shalom is a beautiful Hebrew word that, while often defined as peace, has a much richer meaning than that. Shalom is better understood as "the way it was meant to be." I love that. Ultimately, God's desire is to restore all of his creation to shalom. Peace, harmony, completeness. The way it was meant to be. The world that we know is the antithesis of shalom. Everything about this world is broken, from my frustrations with whining children to my grief over my dead child. From murder to addictions to earthquakes to cancer. Car accidents. Congenital defects. Divorce. Back-talking teenagers. Abuse. Poverty. Selfishness. Total brokenness. All of it. Not what God intended. Not shalom. So I know that God's overarching desire is to restore all of it. And I know that his all-embracing will is redemption. In all things, both big and little. I know this because of the cross of Jesus which tells me that God loves me and is for me. Sometimes in his sovereignty, redemption looks different to God than it does to me. Does that bother me? Yup. Absolutely. I wish I was sovereign. I wish I could fix it. Control it. Redeem the brokenness by myself in my way. But I cannot and, because I cannot, I have to trust someone else to do it. Who would I trust other than the one who has already established the depth of his love for me? Who else would I trust other than the one who desires shalom and has the ability to make it happen? So, as I face the brokenness around me and discuss it with God through prayer, I can beg that his will be fully accomplished because I know his ultimate plan is restoration. Perhaps his way of restoration is the same as my way - healing, recovery, fertility, acquittal, employment. But perhaps his plan for redemption is different from mine. Sometimes my discussions with God get heated, but my prayers don't sound like a pathetic concession of "may God's will be done." For me, it sounds like a battle cry: "Redeem that, God!" Louder and louder my voice grows as I reach out in prayer for God to restore whatever brokenness I struggle against. "Redeem that, God!" As I fight against the pain of cancer, bitterness, sadness, and this void I feel every day. As I lose tears and sleep. "Redeem that, God!" And sometimes I add in a strong, "Go to hell, Satan!" voicing it loud enough to assure he hears me. This is not concession. This is me joining God in a battle for victory, as we fight together for redemption. For shalom. I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. . . For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of him who subjected it, in hope that creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God. (Romans 8:18, 20-21) I hope I never give the impression that any of this is easy for me or that my faith allows me to simply rise above my questions and doubt. It isn't. It doesn't. But I have never let go of God, and he has never let go of me. Blessings, Sarah
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I have 3 brothers who are all into extreme sports as hobbies. It started many years ago with skateboarding, then wake boarding, snow boarding, and mountain biking. Now they do rock climbing and wake surfing - with their preschoolers in tow. My youngest brother recently climbed Yosemite's El Capitan in a 19 hour time frame. Crazy. On occasion, I don't mind a little adrenaline rush myself, but I prefer it to be accompanied by some semblance of control. For instance, I love white water rafting and have been down the New and Gauley Rivers many times - in a boat, with a guide, wearing a life jacket. I never gained enough mastery over those other extreme activities to convince myself that I was not completely and utterly out of control, so I never learned to enjoy them.
Truth is, I like to be in control. I like it when life ensues the way I plan. And most days, that's how it rolls. I put it on the calendar and it happens. I am the alarm clock. I say when we stay, when we go, and when we eat. I manage the menu, the store list, the schedules, the chore list, the routines, some facilities, many of the purchases and parts of the budget. I refer to my role in the Cobb 7 as Chief Operations Officer. So it was very difficult when that was taken from me last year. Very difficult. When Katie was flown to Cincinnati, I could not think clearly. I hate to not be able to think clearly. A friend asked if she could help with the kids, so I gave her contact numbers for a few close friends and family and she took over. I looked at another friend and said, "I need to be in Cincinnati when Katie arrives. Chad needs to stay in Charleston until she leaves. We only want to have one of our vehicles there. Figure that out and make it happen." He did, and I just followed what he suggested. For the following months, not only did I watch helplessly as Katie fought this horrid disease, but I also listened helplessly to the needs of my kids at home. Friends signed permission slips and sent in field trip money. Neighbors mowed our grass. Family tucked my kids in at night. Dinner just showed up most days of the week at my house. There was almost nothing I could do about any of it from the position I was in. One of the ways people blessed us during that time was through grocery shopping. My standard mode of operation is to keep a running store list on the refrigerator at home, so my kids continued that practice and each weekend the list would be collected and the groceries delivered. As she unloaded boxes of sugar-laden breakfast foods and Little Debbie snack cakes, one friend told me, "I got everything on the list although I'm pretty sure it is not what you would normally buy." Whatever. As long as they ate, I did not care at that point, and I was super grateful for the way others cared for my family in my absence. One particular weekend, however, I broke. The significance of my lack of control struck me as I opened the refrigerator and saw a tub of butter. A great big tub of Blue Bonnet butter. All I could think was . . . that's not even the butter I buy. As I collapsed into a heap of tears on my kitchen floor, I realized I had lost complete control of my life. I couldn't protect my kids, sleep in my own bed, manage my house, pursue my career, encourage my husband, mow my grass, or even buy my own butter. I may say I believe that God is sovereign. But do I? Did I? God, you be sovereign over the "big things," and I'll be sovereign over everything else. That's not what I say, but sometimes that's how I live. At least, that's how I lived until I couldn't. Until I physically, emotionally, mentally could not control anything any longer. Until I picked my ugly-crying, can't-hold-it-together-anymore, exhausted self up off the floor and tapped out. That's it, God. I'm done. I can't do it. I won't fight you for the position anymore. I'll let go. You be God. I'm out. How do I really feel about the sovereignty of God? And how does that affect my every day? In Isaiah 46, God says, "I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me. I make known the end from the beginning, from ancient times, what is still to come. I say, ‘My purpose will stand, and I will do all that I please.' " For now, I am back to managing my household almost the same as before. But with a little less arrogance and a little softer grip on all of it. Because all that control I had before - it was just an illusion. Turns out I'm not God. Not even in the little things. Blessings, Sarah |
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