Monday, December 28, 2020

What Now?

        It seems like an understatement to say that this has been a very bad year for a lot of people. Most of us can hardly wait for 2021 so we can put it behind us. I’ve seen t-shirts, coffee mugs, and even Christmas decorations to that end. We want it to be over. But will the calendar really make that much of a difference? When we tear off that last page on New Year’s Eve, won’t people still be wearing masks and social distancing? It seems the world has been holding its breath to get to January 1, but I doubt we’ll wake up to any substantial changes overnight. When that realization hits home to a world desperate to escape the trials of 2020 we may be forced to ask, “What now?”

Sure this year’s been miserable, but it hasn’t been the worst year of everyone’s life. Severe illness or the death of a loved one mark other years as far worse for some. On the other hand, blessings of marriage, the birth of a child, or financial gain have actually made 2020 a good year for certain people. But for Christians the answer to, “What now?” should be the same in any given scenario. Hebrews 12 declares, “Fix your eyes on Jesus.” From losing a loved one to welcoming a new baby, mourning and celebration are tempered in Christ when we look to him for our next step. Our joy and sadness find a common home in Jesus, where He wants to make use of our situation to His glory and our ultimate good. 

We simply cannot know what God is doing through the events of our lives, but we can be sure that He has a plan. For instance, Ruth could have had no idea that suffering the loss of her husband and displacement from her homeland would lead her into the lineage of the Messiah, but she was faithful nonetheless. Conversely, Solomon was given more riches and wisdom than any other man in the Bible, but after basking in the Lord’s goodness for most of his life, it eventually went to his head and he turned away from God. Until we recognize that every event, blessing or tragedy, is subject to God’s authority and intended for his sovereign purpose, we will continue to be frustrated when things don’t go our way or forget Him when they do. We will search for the next step rather than allowing God to guide our paths.

The year 2021 holds great promise, but not because it means an end to the trials of 2020. Instead, it is another opportunity to surrender our agendas to God and His plan for our lives, regardless of our circumstances. It doesn’t mean we can’t lament the direction our world is headed, and it doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy the good things we have in our lives. It simply means that we ultimately accept whatever God wants to do with us because we trust that He’s involved and in control. It means that we acknowledge His plans as greater than anything we could dream up and that we’re willing to be participants in His divine blueprint. 

Try this in 2021: Every time you find yourself thinking, “What now?" go to God with that question and then listen for the answer. Whether it seems like something that might take you far away from home like Ruth or bring you earthy benefits like Solomon, go ahead and submit to the prompting. God is still writing His story and you’re in it. You could end up with an entire chapter named after you or you could be an example of what not to do, but asking God, “What now?” while you still have breath in your lungs will ensure that you’re at least in the book. Those who wait to ask that question on the day of judgment will find their names in a different book and most assuredly will not like the answer. Take heart. The God we serve not only created time and will one day culminate every year, good or bad, into one perfect moment where He will make all things new and incorruptible, but He also loves us so much that He won’t do that until every nation has had the opportunity to hear and respond to that good news. (Matt. 24:14) So when you ask, “What now?” don’t be surprised if God prompts you to share that hope with someone who needs to hear it. 

Friday, December 11, 2020

The Burden of Happiness

The United States was founded on the idea that people are “endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” I’ve always felt that I live in the best country in the world—especially after spending time in a few others. However, with the current political climate, I sometimes wonder how much longer I’ll feel that way. 


I know I’m not alone when I ponder the dramatic changes that have taken place in our nation since those words were penned in the Declaration of Independence over two hundred years ago. Our founding fathers were obviously seeking to establish a government that would complement biblical principles, but I wonder if they didn’t inadvertently contribute to our divergence from those same principles with one imperfectly chosen word. I love this country and don’t want to undo our foundation in the slightest way, which is precisely the reason I bring this up. Perhaps in order to maintain the intentions of our founding fathers, we should consider the possibility that “happiness” has a different meaning today than it did then.


The American dream is wrapped up in the idea that we want to achieve happiness and that, left to our own devices, we can. The colonies were desperate to slip out of King George III’s tyrannical grip, so it makes sense that happiness should be a tenet of the new government, but I don’t suppose the signers of the Declaration would have chosen that word if they could have imagined what its pursuit would look like a couple of centuries later. To them it would have meant the opportunity to make laws and use taxes to benefit their own communities, raise and educate their own children, and worship God however they chose. Can you imagine what they would have made of the very idea that, in order to pursue happiness, a child would be able to choose her own gender and a woman abort her own baby if it made her happy? Clearly not. The idea of happiness might have once been equated with a principled life, but it has somehow come to mean feeling good all the time—an impossibility, the pursuit of which has made us nothing less than crazy. Maybe the “pursuit of joy” would have been a better choice of words because, while joy is not completely synonymous with happiness, there can be no real happiness without it.


The good news is that joy is found in Christ. He never calls us to happiness, which can actually be quite a burden. New parents say about their baby, “Whatever he does, I just want him to be happy.” That’s quite a calling for the child before he’s even old enough to know what it means. What if he grows up to be a servant of God? Is happiness the standard in that job? If it is, I’m doing something wrong. I’m often sad because of the number of people who reject Jesus. 


People say God wants us to be happy, but maybe they’re confusing God’s call with the American dream. God calls us to joy. Happiness is experienced when our circumstances make us feel good, but the joy of the Lord is a permanent state of being when we have Christ living in us and can be present even in the worst of circumstances. I find great relief in the fact that, while I appreciate the freedom to pursue happiness, God does not expect it from me. Ecclesiastes 7 says, “Sorrow is better than laughter, because a sad face is good for the heart.” True joy comes when we fellowship with Christ’s suffering. It reminds us that He is in charge and that all is well, regardless of our physical circumstances. When we experience financial problems, relationship issues, or even a worldwide health crisis, we don’t also have to face the burden of feeling happiness in the midst of the struggle. 


Maybe it’s un-American to be unhappy, but it certainly isn’t ungodly. For those of us in Christ, happiness is a byproduct of joy and comes in delightful and surprising waves like sprinkles on a cake, where joy is the whole cake and happiness is the sprinkles. If we’re able to release ourselves from the burden of the pursuit of happiness, we will certainly find it in the joy of the Lord.