April 24, 2024
Looking back to my first few years as a Christian, I understand better now the reasons why God allowed certain sorrows to enter into my life. Although I had made a commitment to missionary service and had begun studying the Bible regularly, there was still so much to learn. My expectations of what my life in Christ might become were quite naïve.
I suppose I had picked up some of my early, somewhat glorious expectations for missionary work in part from the influences of worldly culture. I have since understood better how this world’s culture can impress upon us that those things that minister to our pride and self-glorification are to be sought after and esteemed. Servanthood, meekness, and humility are not considered strengths, they’re not cool. And so, it seems, I placed too much importance on visible accomplishments and the attainment of charismatic and charming character traits. I envisioned myself participating in a notable work for the Lord, something special that would be admired by many.
I didn’t anticipate that I might pass through some major heartache and disappointment, nor did I anticipate my dire need of an attitude adjustment. I didn’t understand very well what “picking up my cross” and “denying myself” entailed (Matthew 16:24). Another thing I didn’t understand was that by giving my life to Christ and by surrendering my will to His, I would end up partaking of some of the sorrow that He went through (1 Peter 4:13). But, on a positive note, I seemed to sense that despite my earthly loss I was being given a priceless gift, the “pearl of great price” (Matthew 13:45–46), the privilege of being “conformed to the image of the Son” with eternal rewards (Romans 8:29; 2 Corinthians 3:18).
Another thing I did not understand too well, and am still learning, is the biblical practice of learning to “wait on the Lord.” Naomi told Ruth: “Wait, my daughter, until you learn how the matter turns out” (Ruth 3:18). My habit had always been to anxiously do all the “fixing” the best I could, as soon as I could, even if it meant with a little haste and all on my own. I have since learned that God is concerned about my response to the circumstances He allows to enter into my life—whether I will complain or I will trust Him and accept that His plans are often not the same as mine.
This quote by Elisabeth Elliot expresses it well:
Many times in my life God has asked me to wait when I wanted to move forward. He has kept me in the dark when I asked for light. To my pleas for guidance, His answer has often been “Sit still, my daughter.” I like to see progress. I look for evidence that God is at least doing something. … Of course, for most of us this test of waiting does not take place in a silent and empty house, but in the course of regular work, appointments, grocery buying, trying to get the car fixed. … Waiting on the Lord is almost impossible unless we also are learning at the same time to find joy in the Lord, commit everything to Him, trust Him and be quiet. ... True waiting is not doing nothing. … One discipline of the spiritual life to which many of us find it most difficult to submit is that of waiting. No other discipline reveals more about the quality of our faith than that one.1
We all have projects and things we long to see finished, and our accomplishments are often put on hold. But during all my waiting, I wish to learn to cultivate trust and expectancy for His answer to come in His good time. Psalm 31:19 promises me that God has laid up great goodness for those that fear Him and trust Him. Isaiah 64:4 and 1 Corinthians 2:9 are two promises that seem to go together, like a pair of gloves. They both tell us that God has prepared marvelous things, beyond what we have heard or seen—in Isaiah for those that wait on the Lord, and in 1 Corinthians for those who love Him.
My lot in life has had some sorrows, which I never could have, nor should have, envisioned beforehand. Through all sorrow, I aspire to obey Jesus’ instruction to “be of good cheer” (John 16:33), and also to take Paul’s example to heart: “But none of these things move me” (Acts 20:24), and “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us” (Romans 8:18). How could Paul say that? He must have experienced the lovingkindness of the Lord (Psalm 63:3; 17:7; 36:7).
The Bible tells us that Jesus learned obedience through the things which He suffered (Hebrews 5:8). It stands to reason that we should endure some suffering as well, in order to learn obedience, and that we should endeavor to take it in the manner that Jesus took His, that we might in the end receive the blessings.
Each of us is allowed to pass through sufferings, afflictions, and heartbreaks, and we can be assured God is right with us as we go through them, and that He feels for us (Hebrews 4:15). Our response is to offer such hardships up to Him and remain trusting, as best we can, that He can give us grace to go through the sorrow as He did, and to triumph in the end.
Rarest gems bear hardest grinding. God’s own workmanship are we.2
Christianity is not for the weak, although the world would have us believe so. It is for those who find the courage to humble themselves. It is a small door we must go through … the small door opens up to a very large place.3
1 Elisabeth Elliot, A Lamp Unto My Feet, Day 24, 1985.
2 Elisabeth Elliot, The Path of Loneliness, 1991.
3 Elliot, Path of Loneliness.
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