By: Linneah Olsen
I think there are very few things quite as frustrating… as disillusioning, heartbreaking, even, as that sinking feeling settling into the pit of your stomach when you realize you’re not going to get the thing you wanted most.
Whether that’s an opportunity, a person, a job, an experience… anything, the feeling comes. It begins with denial… anger follows, then you have bargaining, depression, acceptance. We are all intimately familiar with the five stages of grief. I think that the COVID 19 quarantine has reminded us all, in ways we could never have imagined, that we are not always going to get what we want… even the things we thought were guaranteed. Life has been canceled, and all the things we wanted most have been canceled with it. Graduations, weddings… any kind of gathering, at all. School, church, camp, vacation, our plans are all canceled. Some have lost things that they spent months, years even, pursuing. And others have lost more than that… they’ve lost loved ones, friends. There are some people that we are never going to see again. And what are we left with but empty hands and the question we all want to ask, but not out loud, “God. Why? How could you take that away?” In Bible study, I’m going through 1st and 2nd Kings. This week was a study of King Rehoboam and King Jeroboam. They are lesser known kings, but they are important in the narrative of God’s redemptive plan. A deeper look at the choices they made, has helped me recognize a few important principals for my own life. So, bear with me for a moment, as I delve into history. God had judged King Solomon’s sin. The kingdom of Israel was going to be torn from the line of David and divided, so that Judah would be ruled by the Davidic king in the south, and the other ten tribes, by an Israelite king in the north. Enter Rehoboam and Jeroboam. The former was King Solomon’s son and heir, the latter was an official in Solomon’s government. When the time came for Rehoboam to be crowned king, all of Israel gathered to confront him. They asked Rehoboam to deal mercifully with them and lighten their burdens. But Rehoboam, having already decided that he wanted to prove himself strong, decisive, and powerful like David and Solomon, rejected the wisdom of his experienced advisors. Instead, the young king elected the foolish advice of his peers that aligned with the narrative that he wanted. Rehoboam wanted what he wanted. He rejected wisdom, and he was forgotten by history as the king to follow Solomon who lost the kingdom of Israel. Now, God established Jeroboam as king of the northern tribes. One would think he’d learn from Solomon and Rehoboam’s mistakes. But human nature plagues us all. We all want what we want, and Jeroboam was no different. In scripture, we read that he was afraid the people of Israel would go back to Rehoboam’s side if they went to Jerusalem to worship God at the temple. Jeroboam wanted to secure himself, he wanted to make sure that nothing slipped through his fingers. He set up idols for the people to worship in Israel so that they wouldn’t have to go worship God at the temple. Jeroboam wanted what he wanted. He rejected God. Only a few years later, God would reject him as king. Rehoboam and Jeroboam tried to tighten their grip around sand, and it slipped through their fingers. How many times in my life have I done the same thing as Rehoboam and Jeroboam? How many times have I wanted something so much that I became angry with God when I didn’t get it? That I tried to manipulate my life so that I could have it? Have I rejected wisdom? Have I rejected God because I wanted what I wanted? Maybe I would never go so far as to act as blatantly as Rehoboam and Jeroboam did. I mean, let’s be real, I’m not living off the heavy labor of my people or building false idols to worship. But when I don’t get what I want, the temptation to be angry is there, the temptation to resent God is there, because I think I could have done a better job. And when I presume this way, the seed of bitterness is ready to form a root around the words that plague my heart… “God, how could you let that happen?” “Lord, I worked so hard?” “How could you take them away?” “I deserved to have it, why didn’t you give it to me?” “This is so unfair!” I may not have done the things that Rehoboam and Jeroboam did, but how many times have I rejected wisdom, how many times have I rejected God in my heart because I just – I wanted what I wanted? Now, there is nothing wrong with crying out to God with our losses, with our pain, with our confusion… and even our desires. In fact, I believe that God runs towards us when we turn towards Him in our grief. Psalm 13 says, “How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?... How long must I wrestle with my thoughts?” Much of life can feel like David’s desperate cry, especially right now, when we don’t know what tomorrow holds, and all we do know, is the things we were pursuing yesterday, are gone. But the Psalm doesn’t stay there. David declares, “But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation!” Whether or not I get to have what I want, I will always have God. The God who gave up heaven to have me, the God who shed His blood for mine, the God who endured mockery and ridicule and the greatest physical suffering a human can endure. And He did that for every single time I would reject Him, and for every time I would want something other than the One from whose hand all good things come. I may want what I want, but God wanted me… He wanted you, and He gave all of Himself to have you. So, I have challenged myself and I want to challenge you too, to not be like Rehoboam and Jeroboam, who rejected wisdom and God when they wanted what they wanted. Instead, I want to look to the example that Christ set when He got on His knees before God in the Garden of Gethsemane. He said, “Father, if You are willing, remove this cup from Me; yet not My will, but Yours be done.” (Luke 22:42) And with that attitude, Jesus went to the cross because He wanted us. It is my prayer, in this situation and in all things, that God would mold me and teach me. So that when I face another want, my prayer will become… “Lord… Abba, when I want what I want, teach my heart to want You more.” By: Linneah Olsen I think we can all agree, none of us planned to spend two weeks… let alone two months… cooped up in our houses practicing a totally new social act called “social distancing”.
I still remember the Friday when everything was suddenly different. The day they told us school was closed for an online transition, the day that literally every church decided to opt for online streaming, the day the internet became our only connection to the world outside ourselves. Oh, and who could forget the day our governor ordered the shutdown of any business that was not “life-sustaining”. In a matter of days, our world fundamentally changed. I continue to be amazed by each day that passes in quarantine. How, for the first time in my life, there is something going on in the world that affects my little corner of it directly. I am amazed at how every day is the same in that it is filled with things I never expected. Even my vocabulary has changed. Three weeks ago, how often did any of us use the words quarantine, life-sustaining, N95 respirator masks, rationing PPE, social distancing, curfews… and I could go on! I was even talking to a friend the other day (or rather I was texting him… because, you know, I’m social distancing), and we started talking about roads being barricaded. I had to take pause to appreciate the fact that we are now using the word barricade in casual conversation. And all of this, is the new normal because there is no sign that it’s going to change anytime soon. In a matter of hours and days, I faced an enormous change and with it, I also faced the reality that many of us forget when life is relatively “normal” – I am not in control. Now, I thought I knew this. I know I can’t control the storyline of my life, that’s God’s to control. I know that. I even might have thought I was comfortable with that… finally. But suddenly, I wasn’t in control of things that I hadn’t even considered a struggle to control before. These things were my schedule, where I take my classes, when I see my friends, how I go to church, my work environment. These were constants in my life, not variables! I used to have free reign over these things… my schedule, my social life… it was mine… and it was my choice. Even the time and the place and the how of worshipping God and fellowshipping with other believers was my choice. It was all mine to control… just three weeks ago. But in a few short hours, my choice was taken from me. I was shocked, as I think many Americans have been shocked these last few weeks by the rude awakening of our new (temporary, but unfortunately prolonged) normal, and all the repercussions of it. But as we begin to come to terms with “quarantine” and “social distancing” and our loss of control, I think we begin to recognize our own inability to maintain the status quo. Things that I thought could never change, changed in an instant, and that has been one of the most unnerving parts of the COVID-19 pandemic. Does anyone relate? I’ve realized how small I truly am as a human being; I’ve realized how much of nothing I actually do control. Even my personal schedule is at the mercy of a pathogen I can’t even see. And I’ve realized that, while this experience is very uncomfortable and in many ways frightening, it is a plague that God has allowed me to live through, and one that I know, He will want me to learn through. Now, I think that the most infamous and familiar account of biblical plagues can be found in the first few chapters of Exodus. You all know this story, so I won’t delve too deep into the details here, but I think there is a worthy point to be made. When Moses approached Pharaoh to ask him for permission to let the Israelites go out to the desert to worship God, Egypt was the “U.S. of the time.” It was the center of trade, of education, of medical knowledge, of agricultural production, of military might, and of technological advancement. Egypt was a super-superpower and it had been that way for hundreds of years. Egypt was also highly religious, built upon a pantheon of deities, with a cult that represented nearly every need a person could have. If you had a problem, there was a god whose aid one could purchase with a coin and a sacrifice. Priests could literally sell solutions – and I’m not talking about the chemical type. Control was for sale in ancient Egypt. Sound familiar? But when Pharaoh refused to recognize and submit to the sovereignty of Yahweh, we all know the story. There came ten plagues upon Egypt and in a matter of hours the constants in Egyptian society became the variables. For example, all Egyptian life was centered around the fresh waters of the Nile. It was from the Nile that they drank, bathed, and watered their crops and their animals. Everything depended upon the cycles of the Nile, their economy, their lives, their position as the central power in the region. Even their calendar had been built upon the flooding and recession of the Nile’s waters. But when the plague of blood came, when the Nile turned from the lifeblood of Egypt into actual blood, the people, whose confidence, security, and livelihood had been firmly established in the eternal constant of the river, found that all the coins and sacrifices in the world could not purchase the power that their handmade gods had promised. Suddenly, the thing they had always been able to control, the thing that remained constant in their society, was no longer constant, at all. Now, all of this may seem very depressing, but stay with me, because I think it is in the moments (or months, in our case) when we lose control of everything, that we meet God as the most raw version of ourselves and that is where the rebuilding can begin. I said before, I think that the COVID 19 pandemic is something that God wants me to learn from as I go through it. As I think about what I’ve lost (which is really nothing in comparison to what so many other people have lost and will lose before this is over), I recognize that, like the ancient Egyptians, I have misplaced my confidence in constants that weren’t really constant, at all. I used to say things like, “Next week when we go to church…” or “When we meet in class on Monday…” or “I’ll see you tomorrow…”, because I always thought that tomorrow would come, and that it would be relatively the same as the day before. But since COVID 19, I have caught myself realizing that tomorrow is not promised to be like today. Next Sunday might look very different from this Sunday. The things I cared about last week, could be very different than the things I will care about tomorrow. Several times since this began, anxiety has threatened to grip me with the questions, “What if this…”, “What happens when…” because you know the devil prowls about like a roaring lion, saying things like “See, you’re helpless… look, can’t you really control anything… you can’t even see your enemy… your life really is just a puff of air, here today, gone tomorrow… What are you going to do if you get sick… if someone you love gets sick… and if this is what a cough and a fever can do to your world… imagine something worse!” And it’s in these moments, when I must stop, when I must remind myself that to give those words a place in my heart is to put my confidence in the wrong constant. Because, truly, when all other constants are removed, God is the only constant we will ever have in this life. The COVID 19 pandemic has given me an opportunity to get quiet with God, to really evaluate where I stand in my trust with Him and in my surrender to Him, because now, I’m finally and totally alone with Him. I have discovered things in my heart, places where I had not allowed His hand before… and now, I have all the time in the world to let Him do His work, because I don’t want to be like the Egyptians, placing my trust in variables, thinking they’ll always be there for me, because, by their very nature, variables must change. I’m sure many of you have done and will continue to do the same, as we work through COVID 19 “together-from-a-distance.” This is an opportunity for us to put away our confidence in the things that are here today and gone tomorrow, and to place our confidence in the Lord Jesus Christ, who has remained and will continue to remain constant, never-changing, eternally ours. To conclude, I just want to leave you with a verse from Psalms that has been a comfort to me as I refocus my heart on the constant nature of my God. “Of old you laid the foundation of the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands. They will perish, but you will remain; they will all wear out like a garment. You will change them like a robe, and they will pass away, but you are the same, and your years have no end. The children of your servants shall dwell secure; their offspring shall be established before you.” Psalm 102:25-28 ESV By: Linneah Olsen Tomorrow.
Tomorrow is full of promises and of new places to begin. Tomorrow is where we put our hopes and our dreams. It is in the eternity of “next times” where we promise ourselves that we are going to change, that we are going to be better than we were before. Tomorrow is where we kick our bad habits, it’s where we become the people we want to be. But inevitably, tomorrows become yesterdays. And yesterday becomes the place of broken promises, of lost dreams, of disappointment and disillusionment, when one more tomorrow arrives and yet, we still have not changed. In my walk with the Lord, and in many of yours, I’m sure, there have been times when I have felt the hopelessness of yet another tomorrow that didn’t bring my promised change. The tomorrows when I wake up the same. Stuck in the same rut, counting the same struggles. I battle the same sinful patterns, just trying to scrape my way up that mountainside to where Jesus is standing at the peak, beckoning me towards a more intimate life with Him. When I think about those years spent, struggling towards Christ’s arms, I am amazed at the lack of peace, security, and joy that characterized that time, and by the overwhelming anxiety that tormented me as I tried, without success, to reach the indefinite point where I finally become who I want to be in Christ. Am I enough? Will this be enough to fix me? Is this effort enough to get me there? And when the inevitable “no” answered those questions, I found myself promising that tomorrow I’d start again, tomorrow I’d be better. But I’m never better tomorrow. No one is, because, no matter how hard we work to change, we can’t. Now, we know that salvation is based solely on the redeeming work of the Cross and that sanctification comes by the restorative power of the Holy Spirit, working to change our hearts. But in a world where literally every reward is based on the input of “effort on my part”, I found it difficult to live like I knew that my heart-change did not depend on me and my strength. I became frustrated, and this is where I believe a lot of young adults get frustrated, and why many of us, in a state of disillusionment, walk away from God during our twenties. Often, we see Jesus as a distant ideal of our childhood faith that we’re constantly trying to climb up towards, rather than the One who climbed down towards us. Our walk with the Lord feels more like another “rat-race” to run, rather than salvation from one. Amid my own disillusionment, I developed a coldness towards the God who I couldn’t reach by my own strength. Like so many other young adults, my life spiraled into a place where I could never run to Jesus’ arms, nor did I want to. This place is dark, it’s lonely, and it’s barren. In Isaiah 43, Yahweh is speaking to yet another generation of unfaithful Israelites. Not only had they failed to keep the Law of Moses, they had completely turned to the worship of other gods for salvation from uncertainty, from anxiety, even death. In an ancient agricultural society, based on seasonal rains and crop-yield, gods who promised fertility were the order of the day. Idols like Baal and Asherah and Molech can seem a little unrelatable to us, but in 2020, when we try to be good enough for God, when we try to change ourselves, when we attempt to control our own sanctification, whether intentionally or unintentionally… aren’t we too, bowing down to what our hands have made, just like the ancient Israelites? But God’s response to the Israelites’ failures and habitual sin is perhaps the most shocking and, I would argue, the most romantic response to unfaithfulness in all human history. God meets them where they are and He says, “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing!” God, the one whom the Israelites rejected, chose not to reject them. He chose them. He chose them again and again and again. Even when they didn’t deserve it. God chose to make a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland. He used Israel to bring Jesus Christ into a world that desperately needed Him but would ultimately reject Him. So, when I paused, just long enough to look up from the darkness of my own wilderness, I could hear those words, and finally, I understood. It was never about me getting to Him, it was always about Him coming to me. He came for me. I realized that when I set my heart upon my own strength to work out my change – to work out my salvation – I was rejecting Him again, just like the Israelites. So, what about my past? What about my failed attempts and my futile efforts? What does God say when I look back upon the ruin left behind me? “Forget the former things, do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing!” When we realize that God’s interest in our past is only to wipe it away, redeem it, and make beauty from our great pile of ash, we can take His hand without shame, without guilt, without burden. We can step into the light of His magnificent grace, we can retreat into His arms, and we can let Him carry us, every treacherous step, up that mountain, towards the place where we belong, with Him. Not yesterday, not tomorrow. Today. “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.” Isaiah 43:19 |
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