So far this week three of my friends have said good bye to someone dear... my heart mourns in three different directions already and it is only Tuesday.
Yet the day is full of hope and promise.
It is mid November in the midwest (which usually means much snow and single digit or below zero weather) but it is so warm out the trees here have started to bud as if it were spring; is there any promise more encouraging than new life?
This week in BSF we studied John 6 when Jesus told the disciples to go to the other side of the Sea of Galilee (reference to Matt 14) but then in the middle of obeying Him they were hit by a storm. A fierce one. They listened and obeyed and yet they were troubled; they thought they might die but still they struggled with all their might to survive doing what the Lord had directed them to do- get to the other side of the lake.
The notes I took from the lecture say "their trials were purposed to grow their faith. The question then is, has God asked me to do something frustrating and futile?"
I do not have a hard life. Sure, I feel stretched to my zenith of patience daily, nay, hourly, but the continuing monotony of laundry, dishes, and smudge marks (of unknown origin) on the wall can hardly be called a difficult trial.
It can very accurately be described as futile and frustrating though.
In the bigger picture, as I look at this daily toil that ends unfinished (though I am utterly exhausted) each night and begins afresh (though I am hardly ever rested) every morning, and consider it the sum of my life I wonder at the frustrating and futile fight for good in life...
Perhaps that is the essence of "life is a vapor" and "what is man that You would look on him".
Yet God has given me a family to care for; they are my boat to be rowed. He has given me a life to live; it is my lake to be rowed across. Some days there are beautiful sunsets, still waters, and the boat is relaxing. Other days there are storms. Yet this I know for sure: on the other shore, when I get there, Jesus will be waiting and that is my encouragement to row better.
Even more so, while those disciples rowed and rowed and gave their all we know Jesus was on the mountain side and could probably see them. We know Jesus was praying. We know Jesus often prayed for them... it can be supposed he was watching them and praying for them.
We know He watches us and prays for us. It is not just suppose either but we know He prays for us.
My heart cannot put into words what that means to me, but because of it I am not lost to despair.
Thus I find the meaning in all this frustrating futility: be still and know He is God.
Cheers.
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