My name is Lindy Hickman and I am your average, American Christian woman. A church attendee since birth, I have sat in the pew at nearly 1,300 church services, 250 youth group gatherings and 150 college/young adult services. I faithfully attended 10 week-long Christian camps—one each summer from age 8-18 and even served as a group leader, counseling other young campers, for 3 years. Currently, I am a missionary residing in Malaysia and I do not know God—not really.
You see, the Lord has tugged on my heart and asked me to trust Him with some seemingly big and pivotal parts of my life. They are the very things that consume the thoughts and fears of most twenty-somethings—things relating to what the rest of my adult life will look like. Who will I spend it with? What will I devote myself to? Where will I live? How will I make a living?
And, as He asked me to place these fears and questions into His hands, a very disabling anxiety crept into my spirit. I wondered silently why my grip was tightening around my future. Don’t I trust the Lord? Don’t I believe that He is a good God who wants to direct my life along good paths?
No. The answer was no.
As I began to question where my trust for God had gone so off course, two life circumstances stood out. Both were painful and ultimately left me wondering: If God is truly good, why did this happen?
Think about that. My view of the Lord was shaped, not by what He communicates to me through His word, not by the truth He has sweetly whispered to me throughout my life, but by circumstances. So, there is one more question left to answer, “Why?”
Why do I question the character of God when things do not happen as I would like them to? Why does pain and tragedy make me assume that the Lord is not who He says He is?
I think we have all heard some version of this story. A family member dies. Finances go south. Relationships collapse.Tragedy strikes and we think to ourselves: How could a good God allow this to happen? Isn’t God supposed to (heal, provide, restore, insert trait here)?
“Even though the fig trees have no blossoms, and there are no grapes on the vines; even though the olive crop fails, and the fields lie empty and barren; even though the flocks die in the fields, and the cattle barns are empty, yet I will rejoice in the Lord! I will be joyful in the God of my salvation! The Sovereign Lord is my strength! He makes me as surefooted as a deer, able to tread upon the heights.” – Habakkuk 3:17-19
I suppose I could stop there, leaving you with the thought that maybe we should be more careful to ward off the enemy’s lies when trouble strikes and we are vulnerable. But the truth is, I think this is a much larger issue. Maybe our tendency to define Him by our experience is a symptom of a larger disease.
Like it or lump it, we have “Americanized” the gospel to create a religion that is more comfortable and less radical. I think this is most evident in one of the common questions that is posed throughout churches—one that I myself have asked while teaching bright-eyed Sunday school classes at my church:
What is God’s will for your life?
It seems harmless enough. It even appears noble. Who doesn’t want the guidance of an almighty God when trudging through the confusion and darkness that is our fallen world? Isn’t it good and faithful to ask the Lord what He desires for our lives, careers, relationships, ministries, etc.? Isn’t it the right thing to do—submitting the 70 to 100 years of life that we are given before an almighty God? Doesn’t the Bible ask us to submit ourselves as “living sacrifices”?
The short answer is “yes,” but think about that question for a moment. When we ask the Lord what His will is for our lives, are we really submitting our existence to the Most High God or are we simply looking for an omnipotent magic 8 ball? Do I desire God’s kingdom come—even if that means pain, persecution and tragedy within my own small story? Am I really asking God to take my life and do with it what He pleases to reveal His glory or do I simply want Him to hand me the roadmap for life?
The difference is crucial. See, the character of a god that works simply to further our own personal kingdoms is at the mercy of the twists and turns of our personal lives. He can only be good when our lives are good. He can only be just when justice is worked out in our experience.
Maybe I am the only one who has interpreted this question of God’s “will for our lives” in this way. Perhaps, I’m alone in believing that we have sacrificed a vision for a larger kingdom in order to seek vision for our own stories. Maybe. But, the truth is, I just can’t ignore the fact that the church seems more like a support group than an army. I can’t look past the passion I see in the eyes of Christians when they discuss sports (shoes, books, hobbies, etc.) and defeat or worse, apathy, when discussing the gospel. I can’t hold back the questions I feel in my spirit that ask, “Lord surely there is more than this. Lord, surely a life infused with your spirit and the gospel doesn’t culminate into a life of potlucks and fundraisers.”
So, this is where my heart is at right now. These are the hard questions that show how very little I truly know the Lord, because my definition of His character has been built on the shaking base of my experience. Who is God really? What is His goal? How does my life fit in to the advancement of His kingdom? I’m wrestling with these questions. I’m relearning, reevaluating every belief I have about who God is, because I want to know the truth. I want to know that the Lord is, who He says He is, despite what tragedy and brokenness in my experience may communicate. I want to hunger for a kingdom that is far bigger than the dreams I seek for myself. I want to yearn for God’s kingdom and not my own. Do you?
