Hard seasons in our walk with God are inevitable. Some seasons feel so dry it’s hard to imagine this too will pass. Other seasons are so fruitful you can’t imagine the emptiness of a drought. What I’ve learned is that it is not a question of if we will face hard seasons, but rather, how will we respond in the face of them.
I want to be the person that is okay with the hard seasons. The seasons that tend to produce the most growth and refining. I want to believe in the truth that God is my anchor; He is the anchor in the wind and waves, remaining with me even in the trying times. But what I am realizing, is that sometimes, I wish God were more like a helicopter. I want Him to swoop me out. I want to be rescued. I don’t want to remain when the going gets tough. If I am honest, I want to minimize pain as much as I can. But in that, I don’t allow God to be all that He can for me. When I protect myself from pain, I don’t allow Him to be my Comforter. I want the comfort without the pain. I want Him to be my anchor without the waves. I want to trust in Him without the uncertainty. When I shy away from the hard seasons, I deny God the opportunity to be my all. I deny Him the opportunity to show me more of His great character. In trying to “protect myself”, I only isolate myself from the truth of who God is and who He wants to be for me.
“We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf…”
–Hebrews 6:19-20”
This month we are working with Kids International Ministries and their Streetlight outreach. Streetlight is a ministry for street children living in Cagayan De Oro. Streetlight has a center for these kids who live and sleep on the street. These kids live on the street either because their parents can’t support them or don’t want them. They stay up all night sniffing glue, numbing themselves to the brokenness in their own lives. At the center, they have the opportunity to go to school, play games, have nutritious meals, and just receive love. These kids, and their stories, they are breaking my heart. Seeing Jasper sleep all day at the center because he stayed up all night picking up trash with his mother, only to take a break at 5:30 a.m. to wash his school uniform, goes straight to school at 7:30, and then after a half day at school, comes to the center, crashing with exhaustion knowing that it’s a safe place to sleep. Seeing Angie, the lifelessness in her eyes, her withdrawn spirit, the way the drugs have destroyed her family and her life. Seeing this breaks me. In those moments, when the pain of these kids is so real, I pray helicopter prayers. I want God to relieve these kids of the suffering. I want him to transform this broken world into something whole. But once again, I am reminded of the truth of who God is: he is our anchor. And He is the anchor for Jasper and Angie, too. He is with them, when they sleep in the back of a van. He is with them when they are sniffing glue. He is with them in the hardest and darkest moments. He is holding all of us. And that’s a truth I can’t let myself lose sight of.
Ann Voskamp captures my thoughts perfectly in her book 1,000 Gifts when she writes:
“I have hacked my life up into grace moments and curse moments. The chopping that has cut myself off from embracing the love of a God who “does not enjoy hurting people or causing them sorrow,” (Lamentations 3:33) but labors to birth grief into greater grace. Isn’t this the crux of the gospel? The good news that all those living in the land of shadow of death have been birthed into new life, that the transfiguration of a suffering world has already begun. That suffering nourishes grace, and pain and joy are arteries of the same heart-and mourning and dancing are but movements in His unfinished symphony of beauty. Can I believe the gospel, that God is patiently transfiguring all the notes of my life into the song of His Son?”
So here’s to learning to see all moments, the painful and joyful ones, as a way to experience more of the Father’s love for me. Here’s to the good news that God is transforming this suffering and broken world. Here’s to resting in the truth and security that God is my anchor, forever and always. Here’s to letting God be my all. My everything.
