Faith, Obedience, and Knowing Yourself

Someone once said, “Obedience is faith in action.” In theory, I love that thought. In reality? Well, it’s hard on the flesh. Another wise person made this statement: “To deny yourself you must know yourself.”

Have you ever felt two thoughts collide in your mind and knew you were on the cusp of a larger understanding? That's what happened to me. So I did what I often do in this situation: I tried to work it out by writing it down. I know I don't understand everything yet. I'm not even sure I've gotten everything right. But I hope someone will let me know if what you read here doesn't line up with the Bible.

First of all, what does "knowing yourself" really mean? I think many of us grow up with the mistaken idea that we do know ourselves. Favorite color? Check. Favorite song? Check. Favorite food? Check.

I also know that I do not like Brussel sprouts, that I have dark hair, and I am curious about everything.

As the years pass, we become comfortable in who we think we are. I love everyone and have a big heart. I might say some critical things about people, but that’s not who I really am. I’m bad at sewing. People probably judge me for not doing my own, and it does make me feel like a bit of a failure. I’m not really into music. I mean, I might listen to a few songs, but doesn’t everybody?

Somehow, we start to rationalize our decisions and make exceptions for ourselves that we wouldn’t make for others. Our good intentions become our opinions of who we are, not the reality. We lose sight of the honesty that allows us a view of both the good in who we are and the bad. True humility, after all, sees both.

When I’ve again wasted too much time on my phone, I comfort myself that I’m not addicted. It’s not a good thing, probably, but I’m not that person, I tell myself. When I realize I’m letting fear control an area of my life, I continue to allow it, because it’s just one little thing. I’m not usually like that. When I’ve lost patience with a situation, I comfort myself by remembering all the times I’ve stayed calm. I don’t normally lose my cool. That’s just not me.

And before I know it, I’ve begun believing in an alternate version of myself and ignoring the truth that both are parts of who I am.

If I were to honestly know myself, I would have to recognize that some parts of me need to be denied. I can, by the power of God, deny myself of time on the phone, refuse fear a handhold in my heart, and keep my patience intact. I must be honest in order to allow myself to learn and grow.

Obedience may be faith in action, but obedience is also an act of self-denial. Obedience doesn’t come naturally. Obedience takes sacrifice. It takes humility. It takes letting go of my own wishes, of the attitudes I cling to, of the dreams I’ve cherished.

And that kind of obedience is where faith definitely comes in. Faith to follow when I can't see two steps ahead. Faith enough to take responsibility for choices I've made, and enough faith to trust in forgiveness. Faith to drop the question, "Why?" and submit to authority, whether I understand or not. Faith when answers to my problems aren't evident at all and I wonder if God is really going to come through for me this time.

This kind of faithful obedience defies the logic and understanding that we have come to believe we need. Sometimes the answer is simply, “Because I am a human in need of sanctification and a sinner in need of saving.”

And that, I believe, is the ultimate knowledge of oneself: an honesty that allows me to see myself devoid of my good intentions. To find a true understand my weakness, my utter helplessness as a creation of dust to such an extent that I am able to deny myself and obey the simple nudges of the Spirit. Not just in a head-knowledge way, but in a real heart and soul way. To catch a glimpse of who I really am without Him.

So this, then, is my conclusion. I must have enough faith in the God I have chosen to serve that I am able to obey Him as an act of denying the self that He shows me clearly when I am honest enough to ask. It’s not a pretty sight, this selfish, human me. As Isaiah 64:6 says, “But we are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags; and we all do fade as a leaf; and our iniquities, like the wind, have taken us away.”

Yet we need not feel hopeless. “For the Lord thy God will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, Fear not; I will help thee.” (Isaiah 41:13) A search for the truth and knowledge of who we really are will not leave us forsaken. Rather, It will result in God holding my hand and leading me forward into a path of new growth and greater freedom.

Faith leads to obedience.

Obedience is an act of self-denial.
Self-denial is only possible when I have learned to know myself.

Knowing myself is only possible with honesty.
Honesty is a choice I make that ultimately leads towards faith.
 

Unashamed Action

Based on true accounts.

Don Evans turned to his wife. “We need to stop here,” he said.

His wife looked at him in confusion. “What for?” she questioned. They didn’t stop at the café often, and they had just eaten. She could think of no reason for stopping.

“I don’t know,” Don replied honestly, “but God wants me to stop.”

Together, they entered the little café. A few other customers were there, just getting up from their table to leave. Awkwardly, Don shuffled his dusty work boots and waited for them to leave. Finally, the last tinkle of the bell on the door died away and he approached the owner of the café.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Don said politely. “I know this is going to sound a little weird, but would it be OK if I had a prayer with you?”

Arlene Lewis paused in the midst of wiping the newly vacated table. She surveyed the man before her—a scraggly beard, faded blue jeans, a sun-browned face. “Sure,” she replied. “That would be fine.”

And so Don placed a hand on her shoulder and bowed his head. His wife bowed, too. Maybe the words were a little awkward—he didn’t know what to pray, exactly—but the sincerity was real. He asked God to bless the business and bless the people who ran it. He prayed that they could experience joy. And he thanked God for the day they had been given. That was all.

“Amen,” Don said.

Arlene looked up, tears glistening in her eyes. “Did you know?” she asked.

“Know what?” Don responded, confused.

And then Arlene told him. A dear family member had just passed away. She was feeling burdened, confused, in darkness. She had begun to wonder if God even cared.

And then, out of nowhere, a man she barely knew had stopped and prayed for her.

Don listened in amazement. He hadn’t known anything about the death. “God just told me to stop,” he replied, “and so I did.”

What a beautiful example for each of us. So many times we feel the Spirit prompting us to action, but we fail to act because of fear—fear of awkwardness, fear of what people will think, fear of not knowing what we will say, fear of the type of reception we may receive.

Another day, another faithful follower.

Sarah was leaving the Family Dollar when she saw a woman in a car near her own parking space. The car was of an ancient model with rust spots on the roof and hood. It was easy to see the woman was crying.

“Talk to her,” a voice whispered in Sarah’s heart. Sarah hesitated. What would she say? Would she want some random stranger to come try to talk to her if she was crying?

Sarah stowed her purchases in her own vehicle and slid into the driver’s seat. Curiously, she glanced again at the woman in the other car. Her forehead was leaned against the steering wheel and tears were streaming down her face. I don’t really want to get involved, Sarah thought. But the voice came again. “Talk to her.”

Hesitantly, Sarah got back out of her car and crossed the parking spots between the two cars. Gently, she knocked on the window of the rusty auto.

The woman inside, startled, lifted her head. Seeing Sarah, she rolled down her window. “Can I help you with something?” Sarah asked, a little uncertainly.

The woman tried to wipe her tears, smearing her already smudged eyeliner even further. “I… don’t know.” she said haltingly.

“Would you like to talk?” asked Sarah.

It turned out the woman did. A sordid story of disappointment, pain, betrayal, and fear tumbled out in a sudden rush. Sarah tried to absorb it all. Her heart ached for this woman and what she was going through, but she knew the problem was beyond her. There was only one thing Sarah could think of to offer. “Would it be OK if I prayed with you?” she asked.

Together, the two women, strangers, bowed their heads in a Family Dollar parking lot and called upon the God who had created them both. When they parted ways, the woman knew her problems were not fixed, but she knew God had seen her distress and sent someone to care.

Sarah left the parking lot in awe at how God had used her.

But to be used we must be willing. We must trust God so implicitly that we are willing to face our fears of being awkward. We have to face the fears of what other people will think and how they will react. We need to stand up, unashamed of the One we have chosen to serve—not only in word, but in Spirit, in truth, and in action.

In Jeremiah 1:9, we read God’s words to the prophet: Then the Lord put out his hand and touched m mouth. And the Lord said to me, “Behold, I have put my words in your mouth.” Psalm 32:8 promises: I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you. In Exodus 4 we read God’s promise to Moses to teach him what to speak.

In today’s world there are many souls crying, both those who know the Lord and those who do not. Are we willing to believe God’s promise to give us direction when we need it? Or will we hesitate to show compassion, giving in to the fears that so easily overwhelm the quiet voice that prompts us to action?

It’s not easy to trust that much. It’s not easy to squelch our human tendencies. It’s sometimes not even that easy to believe God would ask me to do a job for him—not I, who stumbles and falls and blunders along.

But in today’s world where there is a lack of true human interaction, where people get much of their social life from online forums, I believe one of the greatest witnesses of the love of God is the believer who is willing to reach out in flesh and blood compassion. Whether that care for others shows itself by answering a call to a mission field, praying with someone in a busy airport, or just squeezing the hand of the sister who has tears in her eyes next to you as you sing the closing hymn in Church.

Do not be fearful. Perfect love, as we know, casteth out fear. And it might take practice, (Trust me, I’m trying to practice myself—it hasn’t been exactly easy.) but it is worth it. And the blessing you receive in exchange for humble, heartfelt compassion? Well, it far exceeds the pain of gathering one’s courage and taking the plunge into awkward and unfamiliar places.

Because, when we reach out a hand to someone who is hurting, it is not our hand that is being extended, but the hand of God. His love working through us, our gratitude sharing His gift, and our own lives and burdens lightened by sharing the Light. 

May you each be blessed by being used of God!

Left on Read

It happened to me just the other morning. I received a WhatsApp message that I didn’t know how to respond to. While I was stressing about my answer, I also stressed that the other party would see the message had been read and make all sorts of assumptions about why I hadn’t answered.

Suddenly it hit me. So often I am that person. I throw my messages heavenward, pleading for help, begging for answers, just letting God know I’m struggling, and then return later that day to see those messages just sitting on read. No answers, no responses, and sometimes those checkmarks still look gray instead of switching to blue.
 
When I read the message this morning, I understood what had been said. I also knew the reasons. The power of the answer lay completely with me. The person on the other end didn’t  understand the process I was planning. They had no idea about the bigger picture. But I did.
 
And so does God.
 
When I am the person whose message is left on read, I sometimes imagine why the other person isn’t responding. Is it because the toddler just spilled a bag of flour on the floor? Were they in the middle of cleaning the shower? Maybe they needed to ask someone else a question in relation to their response. Often, though, my mind comes up with negative reasons as I sit, chewing my nails, waiting to see them start typing. I surmise they are trying to find the right words to say no, that they are frustrated, or that they misunderstood my intent.
 
So often it is tempting to believe the same of God. When we’re not getting answers, when we’re not even sure He’s seen the message, we start coming up with all sorts of negative ideas. “He doesn’t care,” “He doesn’t have a plan for this situation,” “He’s forgotten me.”
 
These kinds of thoughts are a tremendous tool of the devil, placing a wedge between me and the only source that truly offers help and consolation. We must start by believing that all our messages, sent in sincere honesty, get through and that He lovingly reads each one. And this is the confidence that we have in him, that, if we ask any thing according to his will, he heareth us. (1 John 5:14)
 
Maybe He doesn’t answer right away. Maybe He sees we have more to learn of trust, of patience, of longsuffering, of humility, of acceptance. Maybe He’s working on the problem from an angle we can’t see. But we have to believe that He’s present.
 
You’ve probably read messages on WhatsApp before without opening the app. Sometimes I don’t want to feel pressured into an answer, so I leave it looking like it hasn’t been seen while I ponder my response. God doesn’t need time to ponder. He knows His response before we even ask, but He does need to know we trust Him. But without faith it is impossible to please him: for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him. (Hebrews 11:6)
 
When I keep opening the app and checking to see if anyone is typing, I’m not trusting the process or the response. When I keep calling on God to hurry up and help out, I’m not trusting Him, either.
 
Sometimes we need to lay the phone down and go on with our daily lives. When it comes to messages exchanged with Heaven, sometimes it’s time to do the same. Maybe, if we really can’t let it rest, it’s time to change what we’re saying. Perhaps we need to start looking for ways to praise Him. Even though we are distraught in soul, what action can I take that will honor God? Scrolling through my phone, trying to mask my nervous energy, or standing at the sink washing dishes and listing the things I am thankful for today?
 
These thoughts aren’t new. Neither are they answers. Maybe they’re just a reminder to myself. When I feel like I’ve been left on read, I need to move forward with positive trust. I need to let go of my own ideas and surrender to Mender of broken situations. Because of one thing I am certain: when I am in service to God, I will never be out of the area where He can service me.
 

Beauty

It’s funny how you can read the same book many times, but one day a phrase you never really noticed just pops out of nowhere and stares you in the face. It happened to me just the other day.

We are reading Red Sails to Capri by Ann Weil for our story hour. The books speaks of three men who come to the island, one an artist in search of beauty, one a philosopher in search of knowledge, and one in search of adventure.

The story tells how the artist asks the main character, Michele, to show him the most beautiful spot on the island in order that he paint it. Michele does so. At the end of the day, he is shown the artist’s picture. To his amazement, the artist has not painted the beautiful view at all. Instead, he has painted an old stone staircase which Michele has always considered ugly.

Surprised, Michele finds the painting of the steps very beautiful. In his wonder, he asks a question: “Why did you go to the most beautiful spot on Capri and then paint something else?”

The artist responds: “You don’t need an artist to show you the beauty of a place like that. But your ugly steps—if I have made you see a bit of beauty in them…I am very happy.”

I wanted to stop in the middle of story hour and take note of my epiphany, but I’m afraid the 2^nd and 3^rd grade students wouldn’t have appreciated it much. Because it suddenly hit me how important it is to see beauty and help others see it, too.

Sometimes helping others see beauty is as simple as a positive attitude or a quick smile. Sometimes showing beauty is lending a helping hand or whispering, “I’m praying for you.” Sometimes we struggle to help others see the beauty in themselves.

Christians get a special chance to share in this art. We live in a time where church-going is often seen as old-fashioned and rigorous, a list of pious rules lived by oppressed people. If we can show the beauty and the joy received by living our faith, we, too, can take part in painting a picture that may leave people wide-eyed and amazed at what they witness.

Of course, we cannot help others see beauty until we can see it ourselves. Psalms 118:24 says “This is the day which the LORD hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.” 1 Thessalonians 5:16 reads “Rejoice evermore.” Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t see this as a promise that we will naturally wake up joyful. Look at the wording: “I will.”  I believe it’s more of a commitment to strive for joy. To lay our past, present, and future into the hands of God and trust Him completely. Because it’s really hard to have this joy without true surrendered trust.

A while back, someone left a thought on a group I am on about making lists. Many people make “to do lists” to help them accomplish things. But shouldn’t it be just as much of a priority to make a “to think” list? It takes a conscious effort to keep our thought patterns headed in the right direction. It takes constant reminders to look to God. It takes deliberate action to lay claim to the joy He desires for us.

I’m not here with the answers. I only have a tiny beginning thought—and it’s not even a new one—that perhaps part of my purpose and yours is to help shine a light in this dark world. Maybe we can bring beauty to someone who does not expect to see it.

And so I want to turn my own face heavenward, breathe in the wonder of the God I serve, go forth, and share the beauty of Him with those I meet every chance I get until He calls me home to a place of beauty that is beyond what I can imagine.

Wishing each one of you a joy-filled and beautiful Sabbath!

I have loved this quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson for years, and it seems relevant somehow, so here it is:

“To laugh often and much;
To win the respect of intelligent people
And the affection of children;
To earn the appreciation of honest critics
And endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty;
And find the beauty in others;
To leave the world a bit better,
Whether by a healthy child
Or a garden patch;
To know one life has breathed easier
Because you have lived—
This is to be a success.”

The Peg Wall

 I was revisiting my old sins scrupulously one day—all the ugly things I had done, the ways I had been disobedient. “How nice,” I thought, “if I could see exactly which sins were covered and which ones I needed to pray about a little more.”

 Almost immediately an image came to my mind. I envisioned a big wall covered with wooden pegs. Every peg stood for a wrong I had done. The “little sins” were hardly more than a bump on the wall. But there were some pegs that stood out two or three inches, and I knew those must be horrible sins.

 From the top of the wall ran a thin sheet of blood. In a steady flow, it trickled down the wall. The little pegs were obscured completely, but the larger ones stuck out too far to be covered. The result of this picture was panic and fear. There was nothing I could do about the larger pegs. There they were, unforgiving and unforgiven, taunting me with the bad choices I had made.

 Suddenly, God spoke to me. “That’s not how it is,” He said.

 The picture continued to play out in my mind. The wall of pegs remained the same, with some large and some small. But the stream of blood became, in my mind’s eye, a gushing river. It poured down the wall in one great torrent. In amazement I saw that it covered every peg. Both the small bumps and the large ones disappeared. The river was so abundant I could no longer say which pegs were which.

 I have held this picture close to my heart. When I am tempted to go back to my old sins, digging up the buried things of the past, I am reminded that they are forgiven. They are hidden under the blood.

 I think Mary Magdalene had a moment like this at the tomb on Easter morning. As she peered into the sepulcher and saw her Lord was missing, the awfulness of the moment must have overwhelmed her. She ran to tell the others. Peter confirmed her fears: the body of her Lord was missing. What answer was there, but that it had been stolen?

 As long as she had been near Him, the seven devils from which she had been freed did not torment her. But would they come back? Now that He was gone, what was there worth living for?

 Left alone weeping near the tomb, she looked inside once more. This time she saw two shining figures inside. “Woman, why weepest thou?” they asked. (John 20:13) “Why seek ye the living among the dead?” (Luke 24:5b)

 Brokenly, hope gone, she answered, “Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him.”

 We know the story. The agony as she turned away and stumbled, half blinded by tears, through the garden.

 The man whom she thought in her grief was the gardener.

 The gentle voice, “Mary.”

 The cry of recognition, of wonder, of pure joy, “Master!”

 Like Mary, we linger by the tomb. In desperation we keep searching among the dead for one tiny ray of hope.

 What we need to do is step away from the tomb. Turn our eyes to the living God we serve. The God who promises us hope and a future.

 I don’t want to disregard journeying to the tomb. Not anymore than I wish to devalue kneeling at the cross. Both are essential parts of Christian life. But Jesus, once revealed to Mary, did not encourage her to stay at the tomb. Instead, he told her to “…go to my brethren…” (John 20:17)

 When our sins have been covered by blood, and our Lord is living inside of us, there is no benefit to us lingering and weeping in sorrow. This is not to say we will not reap what we have sown nor that we will not feel regret, but to continue in mourning for a sin that has been forgiven is to dishonor and disbelieve the true power of the Forgiver.

 2 Corinthians 5:17 says, “Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.” 1 John 1:9 reminds us that, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” Isaiah prophesied about the miracle of new birth and forgiveness in chapter 43, verse 25: “I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins.”

 And so it is my desire to move among the living. To hear my own name whispered by my Redeemer. To thank Him ever more for the blood that washed away my sins and gives me a hope and a future. And to remember while I visit the tomb, I need not stay there, for He has risen.

 Wishing each one a blessed Easter!

Gifts

 A gift cannot be truly given until it has been accepted.

One morning in the midst of revivals I entered my classroom to find a tiny ceramic bird on my desk. It was perched on top of a blue post it note on which was scrawled simply in black sharpie, “Love you.” 

 

I had two choices. I could accept the gift, or I could consider it a nice gesture but doubt the underlying sentiment.

 

Perhaps the choice looks obvious to you, but it hasn’t always been so obvious to me. I am, perhaps, a skeptic, always doubting that people actually care about me, always supposing their kind actions are a form of pity or condescension. Any gift, grandiose purchases made by my schoolboard or tiny treasures such as a smile or a compliment, was met with doubt inside my heart.

 

When I was eighteen, one of my friends really let me have it. “You need to learn to just accept it and say thank-you when someone gives you a compliment,” she said. And so I tried to learn to say thank-you, but the acceptance part has taken some time. I’m not sure I’m there yet.

 

I love to give gifts, but my search for the perfect gift that is functional, beautiful, and has a sentimental backstory, usually ends in frustration and I end up gifting a highly unsatisfactory gift card or cash. Accepting gifts, however, has always been hard for me. The public spectacle of opening a package during a birthday party at school is enough to make me consider retirement. But I have begun to wonder if it is the gift itself that makes me uneasy, or the emotion one could perceive behind it.

 

If a gift is given out of duty, I’m not interested. If it is given out of actual love? Well, that makes me fearful. There’s so much at stake here. What if I mess up our friendship somehow and they regret giving it to me? If I accept the gift, that means I have to accept the giver loves me, and I know I’m not that lovable.

 

The reality of this doubtful part of me plays out in my relationship with Christ as well. I doubt that the experiences He gives me are true. I question His forgiveness, expecting it to be only a loan rather than an abundant life-long supply. I can ask Him for little things, yet I fear to request a large gift, because why would He love me that much?

 

But His gifts are real, and many times I need not even ask. The song going through my head when I wake up, the verse He gives during my devotions, the way the sunlight and shadows play together through the branches of a tree—all these are free and full gifts, His divine pleasure to give. Once again, the question is whether I will accept them, and so doing accept His love, or will I turn away, convinced I am not worthy to be loved?

 

Somehow, I think gifts are mine to earn. I have to prove I am worthy to receive.  I could understand God forgetting a sin. I can understand how He might choose to not see it, like some weary parents and teachers do with a troublesome child. But the fact that He sees my every sin, my each wrongdoing, looks it full in the face and says, “I love you,” with no hesitation, no condescension, no sigh of longsuffering, is beyond my capability to grasp.

 

I can receive a gift and refuse to use it. Many of us have been given gifts that perish in dark corners because they just aren't really "me". And there's things like the beautiful vintage style notebook a student’s mother gave me. She said, “It’s to use, not just sit around.” She must have known me. It’s still sitting around because I haven’t come up with the perfect words to write in it, even though I've tried.

 

To truly receive, we must believe, accept, and use. The Great Gift Giver has many gifts waiting for each of His dear children, but He cannot fully bless us with them until we are willing to let Him love us completely. He cannot pour our cups to overflowing until we are ready to accept. "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." (John 3:16)

 

Will we take the gift of His Son’s blood? Will we use it? Or will we refuse it? 

A gift cannot be truly given until it has been accepted.

"Thanks be unto God for his unspeakable gift." (2 Corinthians 9:15)

Fun

I cannot count the times I’ve attempted to make my life more fun. Yes, really. I always think, “I’ll be enthused about this if I can make it fun!” and so I’ll come up with reward programs for myself. Or I’ll buy something I think will really inspire me. Want to start keeping a journal? Why, order a pretty one, buy some new pens, splurge on some adorable stickers. Bored with drill and review at school? Invent a new game to keep it interesting for myself. A sink full of dishes? Find something entertaining to listen to, or even replay old messages. Yes, I really do get that desperate.

 I won’t condemn all those things. I think there is a time and place for them. But I also find myself struggling in the current atmosphere of the world around us, where we are led to feel entitled to fun. We feel like we need easy. We deserve to avoid hardship and struggle at all cost. Self-denial is highly esteemed only as long as it is used to benefit oneself in some obvious way. People go to great lengths to control their eating, exercising, and spending. Controlling these things is certainly not a bad idea, but when the motive is checked more thoroughly, we often find underneath a desire for more popularity, views, or “likes.”

 As a Christian, I find myself appalled to realize how much I’ve bought into this mindset. I somehow think that living a Redeemed life should be easy, too. I don’t want to deal with the daily battles. I feel unduly put upon when people question the choices I make. It’s so much easier to just do things how I’m used to doing them and not reconsider my decisions in the light of a reproof. And when it comes to battles of the mind? Let’s not even go there. I’d rather not recognize that I have a choice to fight the lies of worthlessness that cloud my mind, or feelings of anger, distrust, and fear that so readily leave me anxious and depressed. Because making that choice is hard, and although negative emotions are not fun, they're certainly easier to allow than to fight against.

 But the Bible clearly states that Christian life is not easy. It’s a life of joy, there may be laughter, but it will not all be fun. Right in the twenty-third Psalm, we get our first glimpse of disappointment: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”  And how about James 1:12? “Blessed,” the apostle writes, “is the man that endureth temptation: for when he is tried, he shall receive the crown of life.” John 16:33 proclaims boldly, “In the world ye shall have tribulation.” Although the verse continues to lift out hope and cheer, the first part cannot be ignored. This is not a suggestion. It’s not a maybe. It’s not even suggesting that some may have tribulation, but if you get lucky you might miss out on un-fun events. No, instead, it is a clear and concise statement: “Ye shall have tribulation.”

One of the areas that has impressed me many times is the area of communication. Communication can be a lot of fun—catching up with friends and sharing memories, passing on good news, or sharing a joke. But many times we are called on to communicate things that are not fun. I’ve been in more of these situations in my life than I care to admit. Sometimes I’ve been the one hearing something I wish was not being communicated to me. Other times, I’m the one struggling to find the courage to communicate about questions or concerns I carry.

I’m astonished at how the Bible addresses this issue clearly. Ephesians 4:29 says “But let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying…” That which is for our edifying is sometimes hard to hear. It is also difficult to deliver. I am sure many teachers have trembled before a Parent-Teacher meeting, worried about something they must tell the parents. I know there are times as a youth where you feel to communicate about a conviction you have which you know will be unpopular with your friends. Anyone in a position of authority, whether you are a Sunday School teacher, a Youth Leader, or a School Board Member’s wife, will probably come upon an occasion where communication seems necessary but unpleasant.

Although we must enter into communication with humility and prayer, we must not leave it undone. One of my favorite verses on the topic is Hebrews 13:16: “But to do good and to communicate forget not: for with such sacrifices God is well pleased.” Communication is listed as a sacrifice. I don’t like the sound of the word “sacrifice.” It scares me. What will be required? How much unpleasantness will it involve?

I’ve been inspired over the last number of months that I need to accept that life is not all fun. Instead of trying to avoid hardship, I need to accept it. Rather than look for ways to add excitement and fun to my life, I need to cherish the moments of joy I am gifted and realize that they are just that—a gift. Instead of groaning about mundane daily chores, wallowing in feelings of despondency, or buying into the myth that I deserve fun, I need to grow up, buckle down, and start thanking my Father for the things He has so graciously given me. Things I often didn’t know I needed, and certainly did not deserve.

I’m curious how God could use each of us if we could see our entitled natures for what they are and abandon our ideas of fun and want and, yes, even need, to flee into the safety of His will. Would I be asked to give up a few years of my life in one of the mission fields crying for workers? Would I need to sacrifice my precious vacation plans in order to help fund a project to help someone less fortunate than myself? Would I learn to build relationships based, not on what I can receive, but on what I can give?

I don’t know the answers. In fact, I hope this outpouring of thoughts that have been accumulating for quite a time now makes some sort of sense to your heart. I know I’ve started to think differently about my own life. Perhaps these thoughts have been only for me and my need. It makes me feel a bit vulnerable to record them. Yet here they are, a gift of communication for you, too. Maybe something will speak to you—a tiny phrase somewhere—or maybe it won’t. Either way, I want you to know that I welcome your communication, even if it’s unpleasant. I also want to learn to welcome the things in life that are not fun—because I know that although I may suffer tribulation in this world, I serve a Savior who has overcome the world, and someday I shall be with Him in a Home where all will be peace and joy, not just for a moment, but forever.