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> Log > February 6, 2003 2/6/03
(A word on trust…a peek into Jen's journal)
Today I found out that
a friend of mine from Iowa moved to Grand Rapids. It got me thinking about all
that God has brought me through in the last six years. I'm in such a wonderful
place spiritual and otherwise now, that I forget sometimes the hard path it took
to get here. Here's a look back at the harder days…
August 22, 1997
I really struggle with trusting God sometimes. I suppose that I could blame it
on the insecurity of going through two divorces growing up, but I am a child of
God now, and I know He will never leave me nor forsake me. Does that mean He will
never frustrate me? No. Lead me down a very quiet and still (read: lonely) path?
No. Does that mean that as a Christian, I won't have to struggle anymore? No,
no, of course not. I know this, but sometimes it's really hard to accept it, believe
it, really feel it.
I forget sometimes that God's best may not fit
with my desires. I forget that I am the created, not the creator. I forget that
I accepted Jesus as my Lord, not just my Savior. And I forget that I can't possibly
understand all the great complexities of His way. However, that never stops me
from trying, from wanting to think I can figure it all out. I think for me, understanding,
or at least having an explanation, helps me accept the difficult consequences
of following where Christ leads me.
Right now, He has led me to a small
town in Iowa-away from the city I love, the friends I cherish, the church home
I finally found, the small group I need, and my dream for my life.
I don't know why I'm here. I can come up with a thousand possibilities, but God
has never spoken to me in an audible voice and said, "Jen, THIS is why I brought
you here." And I don't think He will. Instead, I think He simply wants me to obey
Him and be willing to be used for all the reasons He has me here. I don't think
He wants me to cling to my desire to return to Wisconsin-it may very well be His
plan for later, but not for now. I think He wants me to see my life through His
eyes. But you know, it's awfully hard to see a vision of eternity when your eyes
are blurry from the tears of today. Psalm
61:1-3 has become my prayer during these tough times:
Hear my cry, O God
listen to my prayer.
From the end of the earth I call to you,
I call
as my heart grows faint;
lead me to the rock that is higher than I,
For you have been my refuge,
a strong tower against the foe.
I
love that line, "Lead me to the rock that is higher than I." David knew lots of
struggles: being chased by Saul, the guilt of his affair with Bathsheba, the betrayal
of his son, Absalom. And when he felt overwhelmed, he called out to God. Ever
notice how so many Psalms start out saying, in essence, "This stinks God! Stop
spitting on me. Come on! Use your power and just annihilate my enemies!" But,
by the end, his faith in God's goodness and righteousness prevail, and he thanks
God for His providence, even though He has yet to provide. David learned to see
beyond his circumstances, beyond his concept of time, to learn to depend on and
trust God. He stood at the rock that is higher than all of us, and he saw God's
perspective.
I need to learn that. I am in the process of learning that.
But it is so hard to trust when you are a crossroads and your desires lead you
one way, but God pulls you in the other. If you follow your desires, you'll be
miserable because you separate yourself from God. Even if you follow God, you
may still be miserable during the transition, but you will also have the peace
of God which is beyond human understanding. It makes no sense that you can be
so unhappy, yet also so totally convinced that you are exactly where you are supposed
to be. But it hurts to start walking and watch your desires fall slowly out of
sight.
These past few months, I have been standing at the crossroads. I
am not ready to give up hope that I may return to Wisconsin someday. I still wake
up each morning thinking I am in my old house. I still track time by how long
I have until my next visit. I still have not made new friends outside of work.
I still haven't found a church. I need to let go. I need to trust that God has
a reason for bringing me here and that He may not ever tell me what it is. I need
to be willing to be used here. I need to choose to focus on the positive, like
the fact that I love my job, I have an incredibly supportive boss and I have lots
of time to write.
While I was deciding about whether or not to move, one
of my pros was that moving would enable me to write my book. Unfortunately, I
have found that more often than not, I didn't have a very positive outlook, and
needed to work on changing that before I could write the things I wanted to say.
I couldn't write about being content when I was pining for home. I couldn't write
about being solely His, when I was selfishly my own. I couldn't write to help
my readers, when I wasn't letting Him help me.
I just returned from a trip
to Wisconsin to stand up in yet another wedding. This first week back, I've been
thinking about how many of my male friends are now married. The longer I'm here,
the less likely it is that my single male friends will marry me. And I have great
guy friends! I get angry with God that He has taken me away from them to bring
me this small town where my chances of meeting someone are pretty slim.
And
then I hear God ask me what am I really living for? If I am truly living for Him,
I am going to have to be content living only with Him. As singles, we are
given a unique opportunity. We can fully live our lives for Him and with Him.
There is nothing holding us back. And yet, we are often not satisfied. We want
a human companion. We can share our life exclusively with the Giver of life. But
we want Him to give us another's life.
It is such a struggle to believe
and be satisfied. It is a daily, moment-by-moment choice, and so often I fail.
Driving to work this morning, I was reminded of the Exodus. God's intention was
to bring the Israelites through the desert and to the Promised Land. He
did not mean to leave them in the wasteland. Even though the Israelites could
only see the desolation all around them, God saw their destination just in front
of them. Even in the midst of the journey, God was trying bless them by daily
providing them with their needs. Yet, the Israelites were too bitter to recognize
God's grace and their stubbornness actually extended their wandering. They saw
the difficulty of the journey. He saw the glory of the destination. I see my own
situations. He sees souls needing salvation.
It seems that a lot of us
get caught up in that same stubborn thinking. Since we aren't where we want to
be (out of debt, settled in our careers, married, etc.), we aren't happy where
we are. And I think what God is trying to tell us is that we can't get where we
want to be without first being where we are. The lessons we are learning now are
better equipping us for what will come our way in the future. Now, I want to be
very quick to say that our desires are not an automatic reward for doing good.
Marriage is never a right. Financial stability is not a right. Success is not
a right. They are blessings that are showered upon both the just and unjust. The
Bible is full of examples of godly men and women who did not attain these things.
When we focus on attaining these things, we are in danger of creating our own
idols-another downfall of those Israelites in the desert. I'm sure that they were
tired of walking around, having some nebulous Promised Land eluding them at every
step, and a God they couldn't quite seem to please in their own selfish way. All
those rules didn't seem to make a whole lot of sense, and I'm sure they felt out-of-control.
They were tired of just following along. I'm sure they just wanted to create a
little something for themselves-a sense of security, some sort of tangible evidence
of themselves. So they made a little golden cow. And we do the same when we fill
our lives with the pursuit of things like money, success and family.
As
humans, we tend to see our lives in steps: high school, college, 20's, 30's, marriage,
parenting, etc. God can see the whole continuum of our life in one step-a step
that brings us home to be with Him forever. That is God's Promised Land for us.
Not money. Not success. Not family. But we keep getting stuck when we look at
the desert around us instead of the God above us.
I don't believe God ever
wants us to put our lives on hold. Lately, I've found myself saying, "When I move
back to Wisconsin..." But I realize that when I say things like that, I'm already
dismissing what I currently have. My life isn't a CD player stuck on pause while
I'm here. There's a song that can only be played here, and only if I choose to
trust God enough to let him play it. This is all very hard for me to write because
I am so convicted by my own words. This whole process of writing has been therapy
to me, gently (or even quite pointedly) showing me areas I need to address, hopes
to let go, hurts to forgive.
As I'm writing, I hear that quiet voice say,
"Jen, I'm trying to bless you here. I know you're not happy, but I love you and
I need you here. I can bring back your joy, but you need to accept it."
So
here I am. And here you are. As children of divorce, it may be hard for us to
trust. But the God who brought the Israelites through the desert will bring us
through our rough times. And the God who brought the Israelites to the Promised
Land has great things waiting for us. We need to listen to Him, trust Him, and
be willing to follow Him.
© Jen Abbas, 1997
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