Archive for the The Journey Category

“My deliver is coming.” – Rich Mullins via the Jesus Record

Have you ever followed a path into the forest of affliction? No one goes there willingly, but sometimes, like Dorothy in Oz, the path turns weedy, the trees grow angry, and the sky goes dark. We were singing a moment ago and skipping as we looked forward to a glad day, and then a horrible witch flies across the sky on a broomstick and we are stricken with terror. We cringe. We tremble. And we began to chant, “Lions and tigers and bears, Oh my!”

I have recently been reading a most interesting story, “South: The Endurance Expedition”, by Sir Ernest Shackleton. It is a story of tremendous courage in the face of unimaginable adversity. 28 men, armed with curiosity and the King of England’s blessing, started out on the best ship man could build in August of 1914. They hoped to find safe passage across–in their minds–the last great frontier; Antarctica.

He wrote, “The first crossing of the Antarctic continent, from seas to seas via the Pole, apart from its historic value, will be a journey of great scientific importance.” He guessed the journey was roughly 1,800 miles through the Weddell Sea and ice encrusted waters. Their ship had been fortified to withstand the ice and freezing conditions and they were confident of success.

These were not ordinary men. Shackleton and his friends, Wild, Worsley, Clark, Hudson, and the others were hard-scrabble, flinty rocks of men that fought through the ice and survived to tell the tale. They spent nearly two years on their journey, 10 months of which were spent on an iceberg after their ship was consumed by it, and they lost nearly all that they possessed in the process.

They departed with 100 dogs for the land portion of their journey, a ton of whale meat and many other provisions. But the elements were against them. They learned what it means to suffer. Frost bite. Sleepless nights. Hunger. Fear. But they experienced also incredible hope. I have never read such an account of a leader who cared so much for the mental fortitude of his men that he aspired continuously to save them from discouragement. He allowed no grumbling, but instead sought to fill their hearts with hope in order that they might find courage despite despicable odds.

I have been reading this story from the forest of affliction and marveling over the tenacity of these men. Having experienced a recent blow of heartache and disappointment, I have struggled to see a way out. So deep and dark have been the woods that I have often wept with despair. My thoughts of hope failed me and I thrashed with grief. In this state of torment, I distrusted God. I felt the bite of my adversary and groaned. And because I could not find a way out of the forest, I cried out to my friends to come and light the way.

“But now it has come to you, and you are impatient; it touches you, and you are dismayed. For affliction does not come from the dust, nor does trouble sprout from the ground, but man is born to trouble as the sparks fly upward.” – Eliphaz via Job 4:5 & 5:6-7

It interests me the things that people say when someone is hurting. When someone is in the bowels of despair, there really are no words of encouragement that can touch them. I have dear, sweet and wonderful friends who have said kind things to me over these past days and for whom I am incredibly grateful, but words have not eased the pain. And that is why when a friend was trying to comfort me I blurted out, “I don’t care if God wants to make me holy! And I’m angry at you for saying that. I ache. And nothing can stop the pain but Him from whom it comes.” And I felt terrible for saying those words, even though they were true. And that is when I fled from human contact and buried my nose in my Bible and considered again the words of Job. Because the very last thing I would ever want to do is hurt the ones I love. And sometimes they truly just don’t know what to do to help.

“I loathe my life; I will give free utterance to my complaint; I will speak in the bitterness of my soul. I will say to God, Do not condemn me; let me know why you contend against me.” – Job 10:1-2

Only one who has truly suffered can understand how important it is to be silent and weep with those who weep. Sometimes there is no clear explanation for the pain. This is the essence of depression. Other times the foe is a physical ailment that robs mobility or comfort. Would we say to one in a wheelchair, “Rise and walk! Why are you so lazy?” And so when the heart is so heavy and the burdens are not light, there really is only One person who can comfort the soul. His name is Jesus. And He knew what it meant to suffer.

Near the end of Shackleton’s journey he wrote, “When I look back at those days I have no doubt that Providence guided us, not only across those snowfields, but across the storm-white sea that separated Elephant Island from our landing-place on South Georgia. I know that during that long and racking march of thirty-six hours over the unnamed mountains and glaciers of South Georgia it seemed to me often that we were four, not three. I said nothing to my companions on the point, but afterwards Worsley said to me, “Boss, I had a curious feeling on the march that there was another person with us. Crean confessed to the same idea. One feels ‘the dearth of human words, the roughness of mortal speech’ in trying to describe things intangible, but a record of our journeys would be incomplete without a reference to a subject very near to our hearts.”

“Human effort is not futile, but man fights against the giant forces of Nature in a spirit of humility. One has a sense of dependence on the higher Power.” – Ernest Shackleton

Are you walking through the Forest of Affliction today? Has your heart failed you? Can you not taste and see that the Lord is good? Are dust and ashes your only solace? Have sores covered your skin? Have your relationships ended in darkness or death? Dear friend, take heart! You are not alone. He is with you. Even when you cannot sense his presence, He is there. Tell him all your heart. Tell him your pain. Weep and mourn. It is okay to be sad about sad things. But do not despair. You will come out on the other side if you trust Him.

 

“That’s what happens when hope dies. People die. Or go mad. Or get on drugs.” Tom Hanson in American Junkie

Huey Lewis famously sang about craving a new drug back in good old 1983. He said he wanted something that didn’t come in a pill, or make him sick or feel nervous or make his eyes too red. I could champion the song–after all, the new drug is love–except that it’s the kind of love that is completely self-serving. The new drug is “one that makes me feel like I feel when I’m with you.” In other words, Huey Lewis is still chasing intoxication, just a kind that is more socially acceptable.

I thought of that song after I read an article in the Wall Street Journal on Friday that pointed out opioids are not the only drug people die from. Researchers that study these things closely pointed out, “The complexity behind the trend means that slowing or stopping the curve will require deeper change than just cracking down on one substance or another.” While the White House has made opioid addiction one of the top focuses of its agenda, throwing millions of dollars at states in an effort to curb drug abuse, I learned my home state will receive $29 million to fight drug addiction. When I see a figure like that, I am humbled. Still, it is clear we are not making headway. No one has the solution, though many are trying to find one.

One such man, Michael Kuhar, writes in his book, “The Addicted Brain: Why We Abuse Drugs, Alcohol and Nicotine,” that “Drugs, the brain, and addiction create this dreamland of fantasy.” Yes, part of the problem is that people desire a fantasy but they also turn to drugs because of depression, pain (physical and psychological) and stressful situations. He points out that “Drugs couldn’t produce a reward if these capabilities weren’t already in the brain.” Therefore our  brains work against us in this regard. Much of his research focusses on finding different kinds of drugs that will neutralize the affect of the bad drugs because, “addiction is a brain disorder, maybe like a migraine headache or a seizure.” His research with animals and humans lead him to believe we are pretty much helpless without pharmaceutical intervention and he seeks to prove that with a series of pictures of brains under the influence.

If, as Dr. Kuhar describes, we are hard-wired to experience pleasure, how do we manage the regulation thereof? It is obviously illogical to spend ones life sitting in a room and pressing a lever that delivers electrical stimulation directly to the pleasure centers of the brain simply because they exist. Life is more than the pursuit of pleasure, but the culture we live in seems bent on convincing us otherwise.

C.S. Lewis highlights the “dryness” we mere mortals experience on our journey and how it can be exploited in Chapter 9 of his work, “The Screwtape Letters.” This fictional discourse between devils Screwtape and Wormwood are insightful. Screwtape writes, “Never forget that when we are dealing with any pleasure in its healthy and normal and satisfying form, we are, in a sense, on the Enemy’s (God’s) ground. I know we have won many a soul through pleasure. All the same, it is His invention, not ours. He made the pleasures: all our research so far has not enabled us to produce one. All we can do is to encourage the humans to take the pleasures which our Enemy has produced, at times, or in ways, or in degrees, which He has forbidden. Hence we always try to work away from the natural condition of any pleasure to that in which it is least natural, least redolent of its Maker, and least pleasurable. An ever increasing craving for an ever diminishing pleasure is the formula. It is more certain; and it’s better style. To get the man’s soul and give him nothing in return–that is what really gladdens Our Father’s heart.”

Thus we are tempted to indulge our physical bodies at the expense of our spiritual selves. Worse, we start to believe the lie that the physical self rules the spiritual and we are in fact helpless, hopeless and completely at the mercy of our cravings. We are so fully ensnared that we make peace with our chains. We are so unwilling to remove them that we parlay with the devil once more rather than face the reality of our situation. We are not simple dabblers, casual connoisseurs or rubes. We are nothing short of slaves and if we do not make war against our captor, we will perish.

I believe this is where the “deeper change” must occur. But we cannot change to something unless we know what we must change from. We must pick up the mirror and look intently at our natural face. We must observe and acknowledge. Then we must take up our sword.

“But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.” Galatians 5:16

“For to set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the Spirit is life and peace. For the mind that is set on the flesh is hostile to God, for it does not submit to God’s law; indeed, it cannot. Those who are in the flesh cannot please God.” Romans 8:6-8

The first time I took up my sword it was very heavy. I was so accustomed to indulging my desire for sugar and food that saying no took every ounce of strength I had. I agonized beneath the weight of my desires. I squirmed and writhed. I went through withdrawals. I ached with insecurity and anxiety. I tossed to and fro in my bed. I was weak and that is why I cried out to God. I needed more than what I could offer myself. I fought on my knees in prayer and with the Word of God–which I memorized. For the first time in my life I embraced sobriety but I had no lasting comfort that I could sustain it. So I managed one minute at a time, and then one hour, and then one day. I made a choice between my chains and freedom. It is the hardest choice I have ever made in my life and the best.

Some may read this and say my answer is too simple. “Cry out to God,” she says. “I’ve done that! It didn’t work. You don’t understand. It’s just too hard.” Dear Friend, fear is rational, courage is optional. But remember what John Owen says, “If you are fighting sin, you are alive. Take heart. But if sin holds sway unopposed, you are dead no matter how lively this sin makes you feel.”

America–indeed the world–has a pleasure problem. But we are not without a solution, no matter what the news media says. Jesus Christ came to seek and to save those who are lost. If you are struggling with addiction today, please know that He cares for you. If you will surrender your life to him, indeed the chains that bind you will be broken. Sin and death will no more have dominion over your life. No matter who you are or what you have done, there is no pit so deep that God’s love is not deeper still (Corrie Ten Boom). Then, knowing Him, you can rest in the pure pleasure of his love and grace. I promise, there is no sweeter friend than He who spoke the world into existence.

“Because, if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.  For everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.” Romans 10:9 & 13

 

Have you ever been on a boat in the middle of a storm?

Some years back our family went on vacation at Table Rock Lake. We splurged and rented a pontoon boat, even though several members of our party either could not swim or were terrified of water. We fastened our life vests and drove far out into the lake. Once there, the members of our party who liked the water and could swim, jumped in and began to paddle around the boat. We could not touch the bottom and I remember the euphoria of freedom. I was still overweight at the time and rather buoyant. I remember bobbing around like a porpoise and relishing my “weightless” state of existence. (Floating was the only thing I enjoyed about being overweight).

While we swam, the people inside the boat began to get nervous. The wind was whipping up waves which caused the boat to rock back and forth and up and down like a cork. We did not know a storm was in the forecast. As the wind picked up we climbed back in and my husband began to guide us back to port.

But we were not fast enough. The storm was upon us! I remember my loved ones crying in fear as my husband struggled to get the boat to shore. I held tight to my children—knowing there was nothing I could do to save us. We were completely at the mercy of the wind and waves with no safe harbor in sight. The cold rain pelted our faces and my husband stood grim-faced at the helm. I will be honest, I was certain we were going to die. Visions of a broken boat and lifeless bodies floating in the water filled my mind. The adults pelted my husband with commands—none of which made sense. Finally he shouted above the storm, “Be quiet!” and we all stopped making noise. It was clear that we were in a serious situation and only one person could drive the boat.

I realize the storm metaphor is a little overused. Forgive me. It’s just that emotions are like storms; they send gale force winds and if we have no strong captain at the helm, we are completely at their mercy.

Pain

The winds of relational pain slapped at my hull last night and send my boat to bobbing. Suddenly I started shouting commands at God. “You need to get my boat out of this water right now! Don’t you know I’m getting seasick?”

And God said no. And then he sent a stronger wind.

Disappointment

And another wave hit me and I said, “God, I’m in real trouble now. My hopes are dashed by disappointment. Please, make the storm stop.”

And God said no. And then he sent hail.

Anger

And I said, “God, what are you trying to do to me? This really hurts. I’ve got bruises all over my face and arms and I can barely breathe. Can’t you see I’m trying to get to shore? Are you trying to kill me?”

And God didn’t answer. Instead, he revealed the full force of the hurricane.

Now maybe you are reading this and thinking I shouldn’t go there. After all, people are suffering on the East coast after Hurricane Florence. Obviously, I’m not dead or in any way physically impacted in landlocked Missouri, but I can appreciate their suffering having lived through two tornadoes and the resulting power outages. I have faced fierce winds, flooding,  and a refrigerator full of foods gone bad. I have stood under gutters that sagged with rain water and have mopped muddy water from my basement. I can appreciate the devastation that occurs during a storm.

Grief

So then my boat sank. I began to cry. “God, where are you? Don’t you love me anymore? How can I get anywhere without a boat? I cried out to you for help and you sank me. You hurt my loved ones. You wrecked my dreams. Now all I’ve got is this stinking life vest and a withering ache. What in heaven’s name am I supposed to do now? I’m stranded. And the storm is still blowing.”

And then God whispered, “Trust me.”

My husband was fighting the wind and waves when he spotted a man standing on a nearby dock who was waving at us to come in. Eric guided the boat towards the stranger who quickly tied us down and ushered us up a dirt path and into a building. Even though we thought we were in the worst of the storm, we were not. The moment we got inside, the real deluge began. Had we been on the lake five minutes longer we could not have made it to shore and I am certain we would have wrecked.

The man (whose name I don’t recall) owned a small resort on the lake. The building served as a small rec center for guests. We stood there dripping in the ice cold air conditioning; thankful to be alive but thoroughly wrung out. The man’s wife brought us all towels and encouraged us to make ourselves comfortable until the storm had passed. Eventually, the wind stopped and the sun came out. The man and woman helped us back onto our rented pontoon boat and waved goodbye. It was a sober trip back to the dock with not much talking. Candidly, we were quite finished with boating for the day.

It’s really hard to trust God when the storms hit. I don’t know why I think I’ve mastered steering through them. I conquer one wave only to be overwhelmed by the next. Were it not for my steadfast resolve to trust God, I would most certainly drown.

My steadfast anchor of the soul today is Psalm 34. “I will bless the Lord at all times. His praise will continually be in my mouth. My soul makes its boast in the Lord. Let the humble hear and be glad.”

I don’t know why God sends storms any more than I know why God allows suffering. But I do know that if I cry out to him for help, he will help me. The help may not be the help I hoped for or even wanted, but I have come to know that the help He sends is the help He means me to have. Therefore, I can rest safe in His arms—knowing that He loves me and that I am not forsaken or abandoned. Today, if you are caught in the storm, remember He is a faithful friend. Trust Him. 

I Peter 1:3-9 “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God’s power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls.”