Romans 15:13
“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
Though grief inundated my heart, my breath stilled with a sense of hope.
My mind raced back to Tuesday’s prayer meeting. I could see that the Lord had prepared a landing pad for me as we faced a loss unlike any other we had experienced before.
In my mind’s eye, I could see one of our worship leaders sitting on the front row as he shared a word that past Tuesday. He sensed that the Lord was giving His people a pickaxe to look for treasure. As he elaborated, the Lord began to unfold that word personally for me.
The Lord reminded me that Jesus is the treasure. He is the reward—always. It’s only when Jesus isn’t the singular reward that disappointment settles into the recesses of the heart when faced with shattered dreams and unanswered prayers. The Lord then took me back to about two years ago, a time when I wrestled with unprecedented disappointment. I had prayed for 17 years, believing wholeheartedly that the Lord would restore my parents‘ marriage and my family. Then, their divorce was sealed, and my sister still didn’t speak with our dad. To only intensify the inner turmoil, our family had recently moved into a new home, which happened to be farther away from our faith community. The church we thought was home suddenly no longer felt like home. Sunday mornings began to feel like an unspoken, internal battle. If Sundays were a battle, being a part of anything else within our faith community was out of the question. We found ourselves in the same place again. Since the beginning of our marriage (six years at that point), we, for whatever reason, could not find a church where we both felt at home and where we could develop deep roots. It almost felt like the Lord was passing us by intentionally. I, at least, felt that way.
Following the finality of my parents‘ divorce, isolation and disappointment engulfed me. I could feel my hand letting go of God’s. I grew weary of interceding and weary of whatever church game we seemed to be playing, and I think my husband did, too. I felt tempted to renounce my faith. That was the closest I’ve come to renouncing my faith, only because my lifelong childhood dream of having a healthy family disappeared with the stroke of a pen and because it felt like the Lord was hiding Himself from me. But where would I go? I’d been walking with the Lord for more than half of my life, since I was 10, to be exact. I was 27 at the time. I guess when you’ve prayed for so long and believed with all of your heart that God was going to do a miracle in your family, and then it doesn’t happen, it shakes the ground you’re standing on—unless, of course, you’re standing fully and assuredly on Christ, the Solid Rock.
Despite my questioning, the Lord was kind and gracious. I’ve always been very honest with the Lord, always with a sense of reverence. I know He’s God. I’ve had too many experiences with the Lord to deny His existence. I just didn’t know if I could trust His character any longer. As I felt myself slipping away from the Lord, I desperately asked Him to not let go of me. It was in that season of desperation that we finally found our home church, Antioch Outpost (AO). On a whim, I attended one of AO’s Wednesday services. The disappointment lifted as I wept through the entire worship set. Now, our Sundays are filled with ease, even with dressing and feeding three children under the age of five. Also, having three small children, we have to be strategic about what we can attend aside from Sundays. We decided to join Tuesday prayer meetings with my mom’s help, who graciously watches our children so we can attend. One day, when our kids can sit still for more than two minutes, it’ll be a family affair. God willing, they will join us and breath the atmosphere of corporate prayer. I believe it’s necessary.
Personally, corporate prayer is exactly what I needed that week. I didn’t know what was coming, but the Lord did. Holy Spirit reminded me that Jesus must be my dream, my vision, my treasure. No other dream, as good and right as it may be, can compete with Jesus. Though all hope may seem lost and though faith-filled prayers feel fleeting, if Jesus is our vision, then hope is never really lost, and death never really takes anything away.
Unlike that time two years ago, disappointment and grief did not overcome me this time. How sweet it is to say that Jesus truly is my treasure and my reward. It may sound silly, but I’m almost surprised. No, I didn’t receive the miracle I desperately prayed for, but Jesus has done a miracle in my heart, which is arguably the greater miracle. Jesus owes me absolutely nothing, not even a miracle, though we certainly contend for miracles and believe His will is “on earth as it is in heaven.“ Jesus already gave all of Himself for me, and for you, that we may have abundant life here amid suffering and perfect wholeness in the life to come. Though we may not see the full reality of His will on earth at this time, there is coming a time when we will. Yes, my heart still aches from loss, but my soul feels the assurance of that hope. I feel held by His perfect love and peace. With certainty, I can say that nothing can shake my trust in His unfailing love, despite not fully understanding the “why.” He’s proven Himself faithful and good beyond measure, time and time again. That, my friends, is why my sleep is sweet at night—unless I drink coffee too late and/or feel inspired to write.
That is all for now.
