Sunday, July 22, 2007

Thorns, Thistles, and Trust

A vast field stretches before me. Not one of those pretty ones that stills your heart with peace and serenity, but an ugly one overgrown with ratty weeds and thistles. Totally uninviting. Totally without beauty. Totally revolting.

God points to it. "Walk through that field, April. It's not going to be fun and it's going to hurt, but the coarse thistles and briers will scratch away the parts of your flesh that need to die. I'm using this field to prune you."

I look down at my skin and see ugly black spots that need scraped away. I look at the field. No, this isn't going to be fun, but it needs to happen. I set out. Each scratch, each painful dig bites into my flesh and tears away pieces of who I am. I bleed. I cry. But I praise God because I know I'm being made into a new person. I understand His purpose for the suffering.

I finally plow through the final patch of weeds and enter into a breathtaking field of wildflowers. God leads me to a stream and says, "Well done, my daughter. Now stay here awhile and refresh yourself. Let me heal you and strengthen you." So I stay and allow Him to bandage my wounds. When I'm whole, we frolic together through the field enjoying a beautiful time together. Happy and content, I lie down to sleep.

I awake in desert. The sun beats down on me, burning my skin. A hot, dry wind chafes my face. I look around—I'm alone. Forsaken. Abandoned. "God, where did you go? Why is this happening?" I keep asking, keep searching. Panic seizes me. Suddenly God's peace fills me, and I hear His voice. "Everything will be okay. Just walk through this desert to the blessing I have waiting for you. I'm here with you; I have not left you. Keep walking."

So with God holding my hand, I walk through the dry place. My feet blister. My mouth longs for water. My stomach churns in the heat. But all the time I feel my hand securely kept in the Father's. I can see the destination, so I keep my eyes on the goal. Finally I reach the blessing of Faith and gratefully claim it. "Well done, my daughter! See how I have led you to a waterfall of more surpassing beauty than the stream? Drink and swim, for your trust in me has proven good and true."

Gratefully I plunge into the cool waters. The swirling current playfully pushes me and restores my dry and thirsty soul. I soak in the water until I am replenished, then climb ashore. I gaze around at the magnificent trees, the ornate flora and fauna, the fluttering birds. I smile in pure joy. Satisfied and at peace, I lie down on a patch of pillow-soft moss and sleep.

The next morning God leads me to a cliff. I look down and quickly back away. There is no bottom. We've reached a dead end. Why did God lead me here?

"Do you trust Me?" He says.

Armed with my faith, I say, "Yes, I trust you."

He nods. "Then let it be."

A storm rolls in from the distance like none I have ever seen. The thunder deafens me. The lightning blinds me. The rain pelts my skin, and the wind pushes me to the edge of the cliff. God stands in the middle of the storm—present but not preventing the wind's overpowering shove. "Help me, Jesus!" I twist, I fight, I lose my footing, I fall ... and I scream.

As I freefall, thoughts of anger and bitterness quickly take root in my mind. Why did God let me go? Why did He let this happen? Where is His protection? Where is His sovereignty? Why did He allow this storm to overtake me? Why, God, why?

Unlike the other tests of suffering, no answers come. I just fall and fall, tossed to and fro by the winds of the storm. Helpless, I'm completely at its mercy, and it thrashes me and beats me until I'm defeated. Broken and confused, I question God's goodness.

Softly He whispers into my ear and reminds me of His guiding hand and provision in the past. I am reminded of His faithfulness and a seed of hope takes root. My faith waters it until it blooms into trust and praise. My leg collides with a rocky ledge as I continue to fall. I scream in pain. But with tears streaming down my face I cry, "Oh God, thank you! I don't know where this is leading or why I'm falling, but I praise you because I know you are good. I know you are faithful. I know you are sovereign. I know this is happening for a reason." A loose rock gouges my face. Amidst the pain, a fierce stubbornness rises within me. "I will praise God through this storm. I will believe in His goodness!" So I let go of the anger, bitterness, and questioning ... and I sing, I praise, I worship as the tears flow and the blood streams.

The storm keeps raging, and I think it will never end. But eventually the winds die down, the sun peaks across the horizon, and I land in the soft and warm embrace of the Father. I cling to Him and weep, releasing my pent-up fear. He embraces me tightly, and I revel in the comfort of His touch. His presence, His nearness calms me. Finally I look at Him.

"God, why didn't you answer me? Why didn't you tell me why I had to go through this storm?" I ask. "I've already learned the lesson of faith. Why did you test me so harshly again?"

He looks at me gently. "When I took you through the thorns and thistles and through the dry desert, why did you obey me?" He asks.

"Because I knew what you were doing. I saw the purpose in the pain."

"Many say they trust me, for it is an easy thing to say. But few remain faithful when unfair storms of life blow through and they cannot understand My purpose or allowance of it. In their anger they hold a grudge against Me and turn away from Me. But you have trusted Me and blessed My name both in the meadow and the storm, both in the understanding and the non-understanding. You have learned what it means to give a sacrifice of praise—blessing Me even when it hurts.

"The purpose of this storm was simply to see if you truly trusted me. Well done, my daughter. Well done! I am well-pleased."


Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. . .
--Proverbs 3:5


Through Jesus, therefore, let us continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise—the fruit of lips that confess his name. . . . for with such sacrifices God is pleased.

—Hebrews 13:15–16

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