“Instead, God chose things the world considers foolish in order to shame those who think they are wise. And he chose things that are powerless to shame those who are powerful.”
1 Corinthians 1:27, NLT
God has particular preferences when it comes to peculiar people. He selectively chooses. These choices are made up in his mind and heart. For us to criticize them, is by association, faulting God. It just happens to be that He likes losers. He chooses uneven performers over the gifted and learned.
“Remember, dear brothers and sisters, that few of you were wise in the world’s eyes or powerful or wealthy when God called you.”
1 Corinthians 1:26
There have been very many men and women tossed out on the trash heap of humanity. They are often regarded as useless and irrelevant. But God loves the outcast and forgotten.
We who are the disabled know weakness intimately. We must deal with it 24/7; and it never takes a holiday. We are broken believers who are in love with Jesus and yet we are broken. Talk about having faith for healing?
What about the faith to be sick?
People who have experienced dealings so harsh– most likely— there is little pride or arrogance left. These are usually the marginalized, the losers. People like Moses,
“Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the children of Israel out of Egypt?”
Exodus 3:11
Someone once said, “When God intends to use a man or woman He takes them and crushes them.” The inevitable breaking is followed by a release of the Holy Spirit from their lives. Moses is proof of God’s renovating presence. You want the presence? Prepare for years of roughness, and misunderstanding. Prepare for the crushing.
At the burning bush, Moses was given the assignment of returning, confronting Pharaoh, and leading all the captives to the Promised Land of Canaan. He had just spent 40 years as a refugee/shepherd. In spite of a good education he had received while in Egypt as a prince, that wasn’t why he had been selected.
Moses has definite feelings of inadequacy and failure.
And his time in the desert did nothing to relieve this. But a 40 year “prison” term will do that. In chapter 4 of Exodus we read “the back and forth” conversation between Moses and the Lord God. All of Moses’ objections were consistently volleyed back with comfort and promise.
As you read this, you may be aware of God’s presence.
He has called you to do something for him. Maybe you have wandered off the path, gotten lost and suffered much. The “desert” will do that. But it all can be forgiven. His alert grace is a velvet battering ram of grace and love. He will (and does) discipline you–but only because he is passionately in love with your soul, and His glory.
Today I realized that I was sick and very tired of myself. It’s really not disgust or even loathing. It’s more like weariness, exhaustion. I’ve never felt this way. In a strange way, it intrigues me. Could this definite disenchantment mean something spiritual? Does it have value, or am I just feeling self-absorbed or conceited?
There seems to exist a real rigidity to evil, something intense.
I have seen it up close– sin that hardens all who touch it, plain and simple. My growing immobility disturbs me, as I know I’m developing a “hardness of heart.” Atherosclerosis is a condition of a sick heart where arteries become blocked. It’s also known as the “hardening of the heart, or arteries.” It is a patient killer, slowly and surely making hard deposits that block the flow of blood.
The Bible speaks much about having a hard heart.
It also uses the metaphor of fallow ground that must be plowed up. Jesus used the same image in His “Parable of the Sower” in Matthew 13.
“A sower went out to sow. 4 And as he sowed, some seeds fell along the path, and the birds came and devoured them. 5 Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and immediately they sprang up, since they had no depth of soil, 6 but when the sun rose they were scorched. And since they had no root, they withered away. 7 Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them. 8 Other seeds fell on good soil and produced grain.”
There are really only four options.
The first is the seed that gets walked on.
The second lands on hard stones.
The third seed tries to grow in the thorns and thistles.
Only the fourth flourishes.
The Battle of the Heart
I have found that my own heart drifts. I myself struggle with a mental illness where my emotions fluctuate constantly. They gallivant around, floating here and then there. I may be depressed and suicidal in the morning, and then I can be euphoric in the evening. It’s having the identity of a “wandering star.”
But I so want my heart to soften. I want to grow. I really do.
I so want to sit with Jesus and hear His words. I need Him to share what He’s thinking about. Yet I know that any sin I entertain has a hardening effect on my spiritual heart. This scares me. But truly he still holds me close, and he keeps his steady loving hand on me. *
Never underestimate a hardened heart. Never overestimate His love to free you.
It’s easy to romanticize physical suffering — especially when you’re not the one experiencing it.
Saints like Amy Carmichael, who spent over twenty years bedridden, and Joni Eareckson Tada, a quadriplegic who lives in constant pain, can evoke peaceful images of unbroken communion with God. We may imagine that it’s easier for them to endure pain and weakness than it is for the rest of us.
Yet the reality of physical suffering is that it’s insistent and intrusive. No one gets used to it. Pain demands our attention. Time slows to a crawl, particularly in the middle of the night, when we’re begging God for the relief of sleep. We feel alone and isolated. No one else can enter the prison that our bodies have become.
Pain Accumulates
If that weren’t enough, physical pain rarely exists in isolation — it’s usually accompanied by loss, weakness, and dependence. Often, we require help with basic daily needs, and we worry about the burden we’re putting on others. We second-guess every request, not wanting to bother someone one more time. Will people get tired and think we’re “too much”? Do they resent their lack of freedom?
We longingly remember the carefree days before our physical struggles altered our lives, when we could do what we wanted. Now we measure our energy in teaspoons rather than buckets. We weigh every decision, every action. Saying yes to one activity means saying no to many others. It is hard not to envy those with fit bodies, who seem to have no cares.
Pain, loneliness, and longing can give way to depression and despair. We cry out to the Lord for relief, but relief doesn’t come. The cancer spreads. Sleep eludes us. The pain intensifies. The medicine stops working. The side effects multiply. Our caregivers grow weary. Our friends stop checking in. Our resources run dry.
Doubt Advances
The vibrant faith we once had begins to fade — which is exactly what Satan wants to happen as we suffer. He wants us to doubt and fall away from God, convinced that he is indifferent to our cries. Satan knows that we’re susceptible to discouragement when we’re physically depleted, so that’s when he attacks. As physical needs scream for attention, Satan whispers to us, “Does God even hear you, let alone really care for you? If he does, why isn’t he delivering you?”
“If God’s greatest blessing is himself, then perhaps sustenance is a more precious gift than deliverance.”
Insidious doubts slip in, making us question beliefs we once held rock-solid: Are we deeply loved by an all-powerful Father? As soon as we recognize the mental shift, we need to stop and cry out to God, asking him to meet us in our sorrow, to deliver us from our pain, and to show us evidence of his goodness and love. Are we fixating on all that we’ve lost, on how God hasn’t delivered us, on how hopeless we feel? Or do we recognize that God is with us, working for our good, and caring for us each moment?
What we think about in the moments of our deepest pain is critical. Our mindset will determine how we approach the questions that bombard us. Here are three common questions I’ve asked:
How can God be “for me” if I’m still suffering?
How can God use my weakness for good?
What good can come in moments of overwhelming pain?
How can God be ‘for me’ if I’m still suffering?
Sometimes God miraculously delivers us when we plead for relief, like at the parting of the Red Sea. Other times he sustains us, as he did with manna in the wilderness. The Red Sea deliverance freed the Israelites, but their need for manna kept them dependent on God. In gathering manna, they had a harder time forgetting their reliance on God. And if God’s greatest blessing is himself, then perhaps sustenance is a more precious gift than deliverance, since it can keep us in constant communion with him.
Take the apostle Paul. He begged God for deliverance from his thorn in the flesh, but instead he received grace — grace to bear the thorn, grace to be content with weakness, grace that would carry him through other trials as well (2 Corinthians 12:7–10).
When we realize that we can depend on God in our weakness, we learn to trust him in everything. Anyone can thank God for quick deliverance from physical suffering, but we often forget him until the next crisis. Yet when he sustains us in our pain, we’re confident that he is with us always.
How can God use my physical weakness for good?
We may think our physical weakness is keeping us from maximum fruitfulness, but that’s impossible. Our weaknesses are a part of God’s plan for our lives; they are intertwined with our calling. Paul thought his thorn was hampering his ministry, but God knew that it was the key to his strength: it forced Paul to be wholly dependent on God. When we are depleted and exhausted, lacking any resources of our own — it is then that we fully rely on God.
And in that reliance, we discover the power of God flowing through us — the same power that raised Jesus from the dead (Ephesians 1:19–20). This power keeps us enduring when we want to give up; it showcases God’s glory and brings lasting change. Because Paul relied on God’s provision, he accomplished more for the kingdom with his thorn than he could have without it. His greatest strength lay in his submission to Christ.
Even Jesus’s greatest strength appeared in his greatest physical weakness.
Throughout his ministry, Jesus impacted others by his actions. He calmed the storm with a word. He fed five thousand with a few loaves and fish. He cast out demons, healed the sick, and raised the dead. He turned the world upside down.
But at the end of his ministry, from the Last Supper on, Jesus allowed others to act upon him: he was led away, he was whipped and mocked, he was beaten and crucified. When he submitted to his captors, the crowds saw weakness rather than what was really there: Jesus’s strength and power.
Just before these horrific events, Jesus begged God to take the cup of suffering from him. But it was through Christ’s submission to the will of the Father — to torture and humiliation, to physical abuse and carrying his own cross — that God brought about the most astonishing display of his power and grace.
1“But Jonah was greatly displeased and became angry. 2 He prayed to the LORD, “O LORD, is this not what I said when I was still at home? That is why I was so quick to flee to Tarshish. I knew that you are a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abounding in love, a God who relents from sending calamity. 3 Now, O LORD, take away my life, for it is better for me to die than to live.”
4 But the LORD replied, “Have you any right to be angry?”
Jonah 4:1-4, NIV
Jonah is the very essence of the modern Christian who prefers God to be just like them (only more so.) Just like Jonah we can be:
unbelieving,
unaccepting and
unforgiving.
When you mix the three, (in a kind of “Jonah smoothie”) you will have something quite religious– but very toxic. A toxicity that normally should require protective clothing and a quarantine.
Jonah has a sense of who God really is.But, he disagrees. In his eyes, God is way too excessive, way too elaborate in His love. He makes way too many possibilities for forgiveness. It drives him nuts, to serve a God that is way too liberal with His love. It seems to push Jonah to try to readjust the love of God on his own.
In the eyes of Mr. Jonah, he simply must modify the “way of salvation.” In his way of thinking, he can’t let God, be wholly God. Jonah simply must step in, and dial back the real tendency of God to venture into His excessive and foolish love. He must be thinking that what God is doing is way too outrageous, and far too far for human reasoning.
Amazingly, Jonah knows God deeply. He knows, and he is afflicted by the grace that God has for these Ninevites. Jonah doesn’t get vague, rather he gets specific. He becomes more aware. Verse 2 states Jonah’s deep awareness that God is simply too good for people, He is far too rich and generous with the behavior of people who live way too loose.
Since God seems so excessive we feel we must adjust Him.
It seems we must work to make Him more acceptable, and to redefine Him into a more focused kind of religious faith. Something that makes sense to us His followers. Something in the way the World perceives Him. It so seems that this is a job that almost every believer jumps at. (I vote to send God to “rehab.”) :-)
We feel we need to dial God’s grace down.
But the LORD replied, “Have you any right to be angry?” The Lord speaks specifically to Jonah. He asks a question, which is a very good idea, when confronting foolish thinking. “Have you any right?” This question reverberates and echos through the corridors inside our hearts. It seems our right doesn’t extend that far. Being “angry” with God (and the way He does things,) is never an acceptable way of thinking.
Simply put, you have no right. You have nothing. There isn’t any allowance or prerogative given, that allows you to alter and adjust the way God wants His reputation and character to be made public. Sorry, you can’t “airbrush” Him to meet the perceived ideas of the mass population. He will not allow you to “photoshop” His face or presence, to make His love more presentable.
