“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future'” (Jeremiah 29:11).
The script for the future, as we write it, and the way it unfolds are often quite unlike each other. It isn’t that we haven’t said, “Lord, what do you want me to do?” even thinking that we are actually doing it. The problem is reconciling the game plan for accomplishment with the interruptions, the broken dreams, and the failed projects. That’s when the questions come and we ask, “Where did I go wrong?” or “How come you didn’t help me with this, Lord?”
When something goes wrong, men want reasons–answers to their questions. Women want affirmation, the assurance that they are loved in spite of the fact things haven’t come together.
Yet, and this is something you can see only in retrospect: some of our greatest moments take place following our most stupendous failures and disappointments. How so? Obviously, there is a kind of contrition and humility when you fail. Whoever trips and falls on his face on the sidewalk, sprawling headlong in a dive that leaves your chin scratched and bleeding, and gets up pretending to have done this on purpose? Of course, humbled, sometimes broken, people shed their pride. God loves the humble, no matter how they acquire that mantle. But we don’t. Being humbled is the equivalent of being humiliated, and we much prefer the limelight to the blacklight that illuminates our grotesque mistakes.
Now, something else takes place which can only be seen in retrospect. In times of difficulty there is a mystical bonding with Jesus Christ, a fellowship of Christ’s suffering which Paul talked about in Philippians 3. It is the difficult time, the dark hour of the soul when you begin to sense His presence in ways you never encounter when you are bouncing from one victory to another. But when you are skidding from one low to one even lower, you are made aware of the reality of God’s presence and the touch of Jesus Christ in ways that bond you in oneness of spirit with others you previously wouldn’t have considered worthy of your time or attention.
Out of what we think of as disaster comes a new kind of commitment, one born of simple obedience with the determination that you will serve God because He is God and worthy of your love and admiration. You have ceased from your “let’s make a deal, God” outlook in life, hoping that what you promise to do for Him when you make your million or get on top, is sufficient to tip the scales in heaven and allow a large blessing to flow down to your wallet. We revive the spirit of Job, who saw his family and fortune slip from his grasp, and sitting in dust and ashes vowed, “Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him.”
Obedience is often a byproduct of difficulty. Of Jesus, the writer of Hebrews said, “Yet learned He obedience by the things which He suffered” (Hebrews 5:8). You find that in Hebrews chapter 5 verse 8.
No, none of us willingly would choose the scourging of life, the battering and crushing of your dreams and hopes and ambitions, yet for those who have been there and have tasted the dregs to the bottom of the cup, there is a richness of soul that is unlike anything the world has to offer. There are times that we need to go back and to reaffirm what we know in our heart. To hold on to the promises of God and trust Him no matter what. Remember the words of Jeremiah 29:11? There God said, “‘I know the plans that I have for you,’ declares the Lord. ‘Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.'” And with that, you can face the day.
Resource reading: Job 4
