“I have a tendency to despair,” I said in conversation with a friend. The words were a surprise. How is it that I said it so matter-of-factly without having realized it before? I went on to explain, “I see the world as it ought to be — but sometimes the reality of how things are crashes down around me and I become disillusioned.”
I don’t doubt God’s existence. I am not tempted to walk away from the faith. But, I feel deflated. I see hurt and pain. I am disappointed by the poor choices of others, by the willful disobedience in my own life, by brokenness at every turn.
I ask the same question as the agnostic, “God, if you’re there, why don’t you do something!” I feel powerless. Do my questions dishonor God; do I dare ask them out loud? How do I reconcile a hurting world, personal failures, my broken-heartedness, and an all-good God?
If it weren’t for His story, recorded in the pages history, despair would have its way. But then, I remember. I remember the promise made to Abraham. “Go, and I will make you a great nation.” Abraham believed. God answered — but Abraham died before it happened. I remember that Joseph’s descendants suffered in Egypt for four hundred years before they were freed. Entire generations of families lived and died as slaves. God was faithful and delivered — but not every Israelite that lived in the captivity of Egypt experienced freedom.
I remember another four hundred year period where God seemed silent. Four centuries passed between the last inspired words from the prophets and the coming of Messiah. More generations of people came and went.
How exactly do these facts provide a remedy for despair? Does it really make me feel better that generations can march by while waiting on God?
Yes, indeed it does.
Even when the Israelites were slaving away for the Egyptians, God was preparing their deliverance. Their suffering provided the backdrop for the display of His’s glory.
And, after 400 years of silence, the voice of John the Baptist, the one sent to prepare the way for Christ, exploded the prophetic vacuum. “Repent for the kingdom of Heaven is near.” The One who would change it all was coming.
He came, but in a way we would not have imagined. The savior of the world — the God-man — was beaten, tortured and murdered. Darkness, death, and despair. Again the brutality of man is a springboard for the display of his absolute glory and power.
Can I be content to live in a world that exists only to be a display of His glory? Can I accept that I may only be a tiny black dot in a dark sea whose purpose is to contrast His radiance? Can I live committed to Him even if I never get to shine this side of heaven?
What if His glory will be seen most clearly if I live a life of obscurity? Am I willing to trade my glory for His?
I consider these questions deeply, a quick ‘Yes’ is an empty response. I open the word and read:
without faith it is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is and that He is a rewarder of those who seek Him. (Hebrews 11:6 NASB)
In spite of all the darkness, in spite of all that does not make sense, the answer is found here: “Do I believe that He is and that He rewards those who seek Him?”
I cannot escape it. I may not see the rewards today. I may not see it while I walk this earth. It is not the reality I would choose, but it is real. In spite of my questions, in spite of the despair and brokenness at every turn, I believe that he exists and He rewards those who seek Him. And this truth turns despair to joy.
“Do not abandon yourselves to despair. We are the Easter people and hallelujah is our song.” –Pope John Paul II
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What to do with despair?
“I have a tendency to despair,” I said in conversation with a friend. The words were a surprise. How is it that I said it so matter-of-factly without having realized it before? I went on to explain, “I see the world as it ought to be — but sometimes the reality of how things are crashes down around me and I become disillusioned.”
I don’t doubt God’s existence. I am not tempted to walk away from the faith. But, I feel deflated. I see hurt and pain. I am disappointed by the poor choices of others, by the willful disobedience in my own life, by brokenness at every turn.
I ask the same question as the agnostic, “God, if you’re there, why don’t you do something!” I feel powerless. Do my questions dishonor God; do I dare ask them out loud? How do I reconcile a hurting world, personal failures, my broken-heartedness, and an all-good God?
If it weren’t for His story, recorded in the pages history, despair would have its way. But then, I remember. I remember the promise made to Abraham. “Go, and I will make you a great nation.” Abraham believed. God answered — but Abraham died before it happened. I remember that Joseph’s descendants suffered in Egypt for four hundred years before they were freed. Entire generations of families lived and died as slaves. God was faithful and delivered — but not every Israelite that lived in the captivity of Egypt experienced freedom.
I remember another four hundred year period where God seemed silent. Four centuries passed between the last inspired words from the prophets and the coming of Messiah. More generations of people came and went.
How exactly do these facts provide a remedy for despair? Does it really make me feel better that generations can march by while waiting on God?
Yes, indeed it does.
Even when the Israelites were slaving away for the Egyptians, God was preparing their deliverance. Their suffering provided the backdrop for the display of His’s glory.
And, after 400 years of silence, the voice of John the Baptist, the one sent to prepare the way for Christ, exploded the prophetic vacuum. “Repent for the kingdom of Heaven is near.” The One who would change it all was coming.
He came, but in a way we would not have imagined. The savior of the world — the God-man — was beaten, tortured and murdered. Darkness, death, and despair. Again the brutality of man is a springboard for the display of his absolute glory and power.
Can I be content to live in a world that exists only to be a display of His glory? Can I accept that I may only be a tiny black dot in a dark sea whose purpose is to contrast His radiance? Can I live committed to Him even if I never get to shine this side of heaven?
What if His glory will be seen most clearly if I live a life of obscurity? Am I willing to trade my glory for His?
I consider these questions deeply, a quick ‘Yes’ is an empty response. I open the word and read:
In spite of all the darkness, in spite of all that does not make sense, the answer is found here: “Do I believe that He is and that He rewards those who seek Him?”
I cannot escape it. I may not see the rewards today. I may not see it while I walk this earth. It is not the reality I would choose, but it is real. In spite of my questions, in spite of the despair and brokenness at every turn, I believe that he exists and He rewards those who seek Him. And this truth turns despair to joy.
No related posts.