All the Hard ThingsSample

A PILGRIMAGE BEGINS

The sun swings below the horizon, slowly extinguishing the day. Shadows stretch, like extended fingers of the branches of beech, juniper, and oak trees, all knotted together in the woods that have lined your pathway for longer than you’d like to admit.

Dusk will soon settle in, hiding the wildflowers and tall grass, though the sweet scent of them still lingers.

Where am I? You try to remember the way you’ve walked today, look for any signposts that signal a location. But you have no map, and you don’t know the destination. You set out on this pilgrimage to make sense of all the hard things that have worn you bone-weary. Every step is new ground covered; there are no instructions for times like these.

Water from your canteen runs cold and smooth down your throat, relieving the physical thirst, yet your spiritual appetite still pants. “Where are you, God?” you whisper to the smattering of stars manifesting across the darkening sky. You long for his voice, a reassurance that he sees you even though you have lost your way. But the rustle of leaves and high buzz of crickets are the only response.

You never asked for this road, never wanted to go through this life with the weight of disappointment, pain, and loss heavy on your heart. It’s exhausting, and through the trees and meadow, a thin fog is rolling in.

“God, please,” you murmur, before settling into a plush spot in the grass. “Help me through.”

Eyelids lower, heart still asking what words cannot say. Sleep comes, with weary hope for a new day tomorrow.

What do you do when you get the news you never expected to hear? Or the news you’ve always dreaded to receive? When you’ve clung to a wild hope that seems to grow smaller with each new month or passing year?

Confidence wavers, and we can even experience a crisis of faith. Where is God in all this? we ask. Is he really invested that much in my life that he would leave me in this suffering? He has the power to put an end to it, so what’s the hold up?

“In this world, you will have trouble,” Jesus says to us (John 16:33 NIV). But in the next breath, he tells us to rest easy, for he has overcome the trouble-twisted world.

Does it feel like it? When we stare into a cavern of grief from the loss of a beloved one, or a medical diagnosis with a wicked track history, we’re faced with a faith that either holds up or unfolds, collapses or expands. It can get muddy when the platitudes we’ve held don’t seem to hold up under the sheer force of what’s threatening to knock us down.

Do we have breath to murmur our doubt, our grief, our fears? Can we muster up any movement at all to make our way to the top of this long stretching summit? Peaks and valleys, shadows and storms, the surges and quakes of the earth beneath our feet. Will we ever stand on solid ground again

The hard things feel unbearable. But they will not overtake us. The God of this universe always has his grip on us.

Do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
ISAIAH 41:10 (NIV)