A Generous Grace

ideas on practical spirituality and loving each other

Category: God’s will (page 1 of 5)

How Not to Read God’s Mind

How not to read God's mindLet me put it bluntly. Upon returning from Uganda and starting my own business as a freelancer, I was hoping for a little more…easy success. I was leaving such a good fit for the way I was made–my technicolor dream–at what felt like sacrifice. And I’ve been writing for so long. I just hoped there’d be a few more supernatural wins involved, you know? I admit to thinking of it a little formulaically: Obey God = Find “favor”.

Hmm. Favor. I mean, you could back that up with verses like “Anyone who comes to him must believe…he rewards those who earnestly seek him.” But as I type, I’m realizing I had a somewhat concrete vision of what that might look like.

Truth: God has been immensely kind–not only in my new job, but to our family in a remarkably smooth transition.

Truth: When the “favor”/blessings/kindness/grace (call it what you want) didn’t materialize, I started in on the “whys.” God must be telling me something, right?

Truth: As my husband reminded me, new jobs take time. Especially those that build a client base. You might say the rain falls on the just and the unjust. Repeat: “Having God does not make me Teflon.” The laws of the universe still apply to me, even though I’m God’s daughter, and even when I obey. But sometimes I presume that I’ll receive grace in the way I picture it in my head. You might even call it spiritual entitlement.

The Mind Game

Have you ever invented an intricate scenario in your mind about why someone didn’t respond the way you wanted?

Example: A friend sends out an email that feels terse. You start thinking about the why’s. Could it be your relationship? Could her marriage be having problems? Is she still ticked that you forgot her birthday? etc., etc. You invent catty responses in your mind while you wash the dishes. You decide if she forgets your birthday, it’s over.

Then you come to find out–she’s not good at writing in general, and her son pushed “send” while sitting on her lap.

Oops.

Geri Scazzero suggests,

The ninth commandment states, “You shall not give false testimony against your neighbor” (Exodus 20:16). Yet we break this commandment when we jump to conclusions about other people that likely are not true.*

And honestly, I’m guilty of doing this about God.

Reading His Mind

I can be guilty of adding clarity for God when he hasn’t actually told me anything. I’m piecing together “signs” or “open doors” to decrease my own ambiguity. I second-guess decisions when their outcome looks bleak. Grant it, sometimes I need to rethink my direction. But like the Israelites carrying the Ark of the Covenant into battle only to get slaughtered–God is not my good-luck charm.

“The God of my plans”

It’s easy, when accounting the good ways God worked things out from a difficult situation, to justify God’s math for him. All this worked out–so clearly God was doing something there. Now, you know I believe in gratitude as a game-changer in suffering. Do it: Find the goodness, the beauty God creates from ashes.

But we can also be guilty of oversimplifying God’s complex purposes.

So often in our suffering, God doesn’t choose to show his hand. I am still riveted by Keller’s account of an Elisabeth Elliot novel written in the 60’s, No Graven Image. Elliot spins the tale of Margaret, a missionary translating the Bible for unreached South American tribes. One day, she’s walking to the home of Pedro, her translator, the sole translation link between her and the unreached tribe. She’s thanking God for the gift of Pedro; for the elaborate set of circumstances and support and training that have brought her to this point. She’s imagining bringing the Bible to a million people in this region.

But when she arrives at his home, Pedro is suffering from a severe leg infection. Having been trained in medicine, Margaret has penicillin with her, which Pedro requests. Unfortunately, Pedro has an allergic reaction. His family gathers as he seizes; his wife is saying, “You killed him.”

Margaret cries out to God…but Pedro perishes. And her work is over.

Keller reports that Elliot pointed to the last page:

“God, if He was merely my accomplice, had betrayed me. If, on the other hand, He was God, He had freed me.” She went on to explain to us that the graven image, the idol of the title, was a God who always acted the way we thought he should…That is a God of our own creation, a counterfeit god. Such a god is really just a projection of our own wisdom, of our own self.

….Many readers wrote Elliot and protested vehemently that God would never allow sch a thing to happen to a woman who has so prayerfully dedicated her life to his cause.

….However, Elisabeth told us, her own actual life experience had run almost exactly parallel to this novel–and actually had been even worse.

….She warned against trying to “find a silver lining” that would justify what happened.

….She wrote, “…There is unbelief, there is even rebellion, in the attitude that says, ‘God has no right to do this…unless…”***

This story has resonated deeply with me as it seems God pulled me away, or someone could imply “chose not to provide” for me to stay and personally complete the Gospel work in Uganda in the same capacity. Over and over I remind myself, This is Your work. You, potter. Me, clay. 

But don’t we “have the mind of Christ”?

Yes, the Holy Spirit illuminates God’s teaching and helps us to know His mind (1 Corinthians 2:16). But God still holds his secrets (Deuteronomy 29:29); we still see dimly right now (1 Corinthians 13:12). After all, “who can know the mind of the Lord? And who has been his counselor?” (Romans 11:34). Job, too, confesses, “I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know” (Job 42:3).

God begs us, I think, toward a humility of mind in understanding the immense complexity of how and why He acts.

Yes, ruthlessly locate the grace illuminating even our darkest days. But though we have the privilege of knowing much of his mind…let’s not try to read it.

Like this post? You might like

 

*Scazzero, Geri. The Emotionally Healthy Woman: Eight Things You Have to Quit to Change Your Life. Grand Rapids: Zondervan (2014).

**Scazzero, Peter. Emotionally Healthy Spirituality: Unleash a Revolution in Your Life in Christ. Kindle Edition.

***As cited in Keller, Timothy. Walking with God through Pain and Suffering.New York: Penguin Books (2013). Kindle edition.

If you like it, please share it! (And consider subscribing up there in the right hand corner.)

Off-Season: When You’re Not Where You Wanted to Be, When You Wanted to Be There, Part III

Her: So what do you do for a living?

Me: Oh. I’m a freelance writer.

Her, crease darkening her brow as she wonders, Is this a clever way of saying “virtually unemployed”? : Okay… So what does that look like?

Now. Compare this scenario to about six months ago.

Her: So what do you do for a living?

Me: Oh. I’m homeschooling my kids because we’re in Africa. On the side I teach some refugees.

Her, a glow widening her smile: Wow! That sounds amazing!

One of these, you see, is decidedly more sexy than the other. (Even with the “homeschooling” part thrown in.)

I get it. Most of us have a hierarchy of Job Coolness Factor. (I’ve got one, too. And Christians aren’t exempt.)

Continue reading

If you like it, please share it! (And consider subscribing up there in the right hand corner.)

The Safe Place Series, #2: On Giving Pat Answers the Boot

Missed the first post? Grab it here. 

I must have been seventeen. I still remember the room and where I was sitting in it. Sadly, I don’t remember the exact nature of the trauma that had come upon one of the youth group members, which was explained as we listened in relative silence that Sunday morning. I do know someone had died. But I remember the youth leader giving us advice about how to help those around them, and I specifically remember this: Here’s what not to say. Don’t tell them this was God’s will.

Continue reading

If you like it, please share it! (And consider subscribing up there in the right hand corner.)

When God Isn’t Who You Thought He Was: On Spiritual Bewilderment and Anger

Perhaps one of the most unsettling aspects of this year of upheaval for my family has been my own understanding of who God is. It actually took me awhile to churn out this post for you, because, well, “I’m angry with God” should ideally have some kind of resolution at the end, right? I’ve learned people get unsettled when you tell them you’re feeling spiritually jaded or rattled.

Continue reading

If you like it, please share it! (And consider subscribing up there in the right hand corner.)

Here in the Waiting

Last week I was remarkably privileged to spend three days with global women from around the world. I love the work of Thrive, a ministry which works diligently to provide a respite from the very real demands of cross-cultural work. Personally, you know a bit of the discombobulated state in which I left for the retreat.

It was in the meal line when I was laughing with a young 20-something who’d just left her home in Sweden after years serving there. As I reached for the fresh berries (berries! I missed those in Uganda. I may have taken an inappropriate amount, maybe four times), I was getting her name, her country of service, her tenure. “And you’re back now?” I asked.

Her: “Yup. Um, transition stinks.”

Me: “Yes. Yes, it does.”

Continue reading

If you like it, please share it! (And consider subscribing up there in the right hand corner.)

On God and the Dreams of Women

Author’s note: I write this post to you with a sliver of trepidation and a big slice of humility, because it’s heavily nuanced and divided (even among Christians). And essentially, I loathe conflict. I’d rather write on topics no one disagrees with and that I only felt sheer confidence. Consider me just getting a conversation started. 

The Dark Question

I feel God was actually somewhat clear about our decision to leave Africa. But I need to confess: Some part of me felt raw, then calloused–specifically connected to my femininity.

My heart was still squarely in Uganda, living out its technicolor dream. But collectively as a family, it was necessary for us to move back. And after all the years of setting dreams aside for the dream that is loving a family, I wondered why I seemed to hold in my hand the short straw.

Continue reading

If you like it, please share it! (And consider subscribing up there in the right hand corner.)

How am I supposed to have joy when my world’s a wreck?

joy in sorrow

It needs to be said: I am a teeny bit of a freak show right now.

Yesterday, we moved out of our house, which was (after months of supreme effort) stripped and echoing, like a rumbling empty stomach. A half an hour before we left, we said goodbye to our dogs, who wagged their tails obliviously down the dirt road on their leashes with their new owners. (My children were in tears.) We said goodbye to our closest Ugandan friends. (My husband and I were in tears.) We prayed in a tight circle on the front lawn.

It was at least a month ago when my husband looked at me, my face pink and slimy again from tears that seemed to squeeze out at all the wrong times for months on end. He said, “I’m not frustrated you’re crying. I’m just remembering that you’re grieving, and that takes a long time.”

Continue reading

If you like it, please share it! (And consider subscribing up there in the right hand corner.)

Off-season: When You’re Not Where You Wanted to Be, When You Wanted to Be There–Part II

Off-season: When You're Not Where You Wanted to Be, When You Wanted to Be There

Missed the first post? Grab it here.

In three weeks, my family and I will quietly glide across the line sectioning our lives into before and after. And it will be as innocuous as stepping onto an air-conditioned airplane.

With an escapade like living in Africa—and really, in many ways embedding ourselves, and it in us—we bear the marks inside. Strangely, truthfully, I have fear this plane will land me back in a place I was giddy to leave seven years ago.

My thirtieth birthday was approaching. From childhood I’d pictured and prepared myself for a lean, vibrant life overseas. Instead, my approaching birthday found me squarely in Little Rock, a fistful of miles from where I graduated high school. I wielded a deep inner fatigue unique to welcoming four children in five years. (No. No twins. A couple did feel like twins.) Insert the picket fence and the dog—and you can picture the level of contentment I both seized with two hands and questioned, even while cherishing my life. I mean, I knew how I got there. I was grateful I was there. But still, I wondered. How did I get there?

Continue reading

If you like it, please share it! (And consider subscribing up there in the right hand corner.)

God’s Long Game

God's long gameWhat I loved recently in the U.S.: some conversations with parents of kids my husband and I had in the youth group back in the day. (When I was…more youthful.) We leaned forward with them over our Pick Twos from Panera, or perhaps chatted in the slanting afternoon light of their living rooms.

And here is what I will remember: I am thankful for God’s long game.

They were the parents of kids with whom we remember sitting with late into the night, wrestling with questions of faith. I had a slumber party with the girls; we probably painted our toenails a few times. My husband tossed the football or grabbed a Coke with the guys.

Continue reading

If you like it, please share it! (And consider subscribing up there in the right hand corner.)

Suffering–and the People We Become

We lounged in the lamp lit half-dark: my husband and I, and our college friend. We’ve been friends for about two decades now, which makes us feel impossibly old. We still easily bend over in outright laughter over hilarious references to our college days and their mishaps. Now, though, we have things like minivans and tax returns, and my friend and I swap tips on how cast iron is really the best way to cook fish, or omelets, she says.

But years aren’t the only thing under the bridge. That night, I marveled sadly how out of our six parents, we wouldn’t have guessed we’d have lost two of them by this point. My husband and I have moved to Africa, caught malaria, gotten robbed, etc. My friend has dealt with multiple nightmarish diagnoses of those she loves.

Continue reading

If you like it, please share it! (And consider subscribing up there in the right hand corner.)
Older posts

© 2017 A Generous Grace

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑