A life with no struggles, wouldn’t that be awesome? Somehow a segment of the Christian world in America has adopted this view. If you do struggle, you lack the faith you should have to overcome the obstacle that presents itself to you. That’s hard news for people who struggle with addictions, anxiety, depression, and other mental issues or even physical issues that have not yet been healed.
I’m not saying that God doesn’t ever set you completely free from the challenges you face, but I am saying if He hasn’t it’s time to let go of the guilt of not being good enough to overcome and trust in a God who may slowly refine us, mold us, and change us into the image He has created us to be.
In the midst of a struggle that I have fought against most of my life, I’m slowly getting an understanding of this. A friend recently pointed me back to Paul’s quote on his “Thorn in his flesh.” I was talking about my struggle with anxiety and memories of bad times. She encouraged me to look at these times as an opportunity to praise God for the struggle because it is the very thing that has driven me to my awareness of how much I need Him throughout the years. As 2 Corinthians 12:7-10 puts it in the Message, it is the very thing that has “pushed me to my knees.” Had I felt no pain, I would not know the need for God’s healing. Had I not struggled, I would not know the need for God’s help. Had I not seen all that I lack, I wouldn’t understand how I am only complete in Jesus. It is in my understanding of how broken I am that I find my need for Jesus to make me new, and I am able to allow Him to do just that so I can live the life of freedom, peace, and joy He has promised.
Sometimes the process of being chiseled into the Masterpiece (Ephesians 2:10 NLT) that God makes me uncomfortable, and I cannot in my own strength produce the change that needs to be. But God Is here with me He doesn’t leave me alone or unfinished. He completes the good work He begins. (Philippians 1:6)
There’s a skit by The Skit Guys called “God’s Chisel” I have thought of it often through the years since I saw it first. I’m kind of fond of “InstaME” instantly I am everything I wished I could be, perfect teeth, hair, mood, etc. But that simply isn’t reality. I am “ProcessME”. One lesson at a time learned, one battle at a time fought and with Christ won, One area of struggle resolved at a time as I learn to walk in victory. “ProcessMe” is began when I begin my life in Christ and He begins to slowly change me and strengthen me to make what I was meant to be all along. It may take time and involve struggle, but as I learn to turn these things over to Him one struggle at a time, I find myself free.
2 Corinthians 12:7-10 MSG “Because of the extravagance of those revelations, and so I wouldn’t get a big head, I was given the gift of a handicap to keep me in constant touch with my limitations. Satan’s angel did his best to get me down; what he in fact did was push me to my knees. No danger then of walking around high and mighty! At first I didn’t think of it as a gift, and begged God to remove it. Three times I did that, and then he told me,
My grace is enough; it’s all you need.
My strength comes into its own in your weakness.
Once I heard that, I was glad to let it happen. I quit focusing on the handicap and began appreciating the gift. It was a case of Christ’s strength moving in on my weakness. Now I take limitations in stride, and with good cheer, these limitations that cut me down to size—abuse, accidents, opposition, bad breaks. I just let Christ take over! And so the weaker I get, the stronger I become.”
Covid 19 has put a major damper on my expressions of hospitality. It’s a bummer. Usually this time of year marks the beginning of bar b ques, friends hanging out, fires in our fire pit, music on the patio or front deck. I think that last year around this time we had a huge fish fry. Not so much this year, with the gatherings of 10 or less order. It’s a weird switch. I’ll be the first to admit that the one with the greatest gift of hospitality between my husband and me would be him. He’s a party all the time kind of guy. Before quarantine hit, and some other life changes that we went through last year (God moving us to a different church, and us stepping down from leading a Bible Study/ accountability group we had been doing weekly for 4 years), our weeks were spent trying to figure out what would be the menu for the next cook out and how many people can we invite. If I would put the brakes on, for any particular reason, he would want to know what was wrong with me. The weekends were meant for family and friends. Anything less was inconceivable in his mind.
My Grandpa was born in 1914. He died a few years ago just a few days shy of his 101st Birthday. When he was 4 years old the world was in the midst of another infamous pandemic, The Spanish Flu. I never heard him talk about it, so he may have been young enough to not remember it much, but I do remember hearing stories about his life during The Great Depression. How as a boy he hunted and fished, not for pleasure, but to help feed his siblings and himself, so much so that he wasn’t much a fan of either when he got older. He just went to the pond and watched us fish. He witnessed World War I and II, the Korean War, and Vietnam War, the war his oldest son fought in and was faced with uncertainty of how that would end up for him, he came home. He had loved ones born and loved ones die, among which were infant grandbabies. He lost a great grandson, my nephew in the Gulf of Aden- lost at sea while serving with the United States Navy. He saw marriages in the family, he saw divorces. He stood at the side of the casket of his only lifelong love of 60 plus years gazing at her and commenting on how young she looked, like the days before they had moved from Kansas decades before. He outlived all his siblings, 7 of them, and most of his friends. In fact towards the end, that fact kind of hit him- “I’m the last one left.”
From the time my girls were little bitty they were aspiring ballerinas. The love for the dance came with a gift of two tutus that a friend had found. Their Grandma took them and spruced them up. The girls, ages 3 and 5, fell in love with them the moment they put them on. Days and days, hours and hours of twirling and prancing around the house in what was just a hand me down. To them it was the ultimate princess outfit. As they grew the Barbie Movies- “The Nutcracker”, “Swan Lake”, etc. reinforced the desire to dance. As they grew, I finally got them set up with dance lessons with a friend. They were thrilled. I sat on the side lines as they learned the basic moves of ballet. Most of the time quietly whispering to the mom next to me as we visited and waited.
Every once in awhile I would hear the instructor give the girls a little tip on how to do one of the harder moves more effectively. In one of the dances they were learning, they were supposed to twirl from one corner of the rectangular dance floor to the other. A move that I am certain, if I attempted it, I would land flat on my back from the dizziness. Their instructor told them that the best way to make it from point A to point B while twirling across the floor was to have a focal point picked out on the wall that they were going to. She said to start by twirling slowly and to watch for the point with each turn as they moved towards it. Sure enough the more they practiced it, the more straight their path from point A to point B became and the less dizzy they felt.
(WARNING…Big word usage for End Times theories ahead. Stick with me there is a point in it.)
Your Love 