I didn’t want to buy our house the first time we saw it. It had a great library and a great view, but failed to check off hardly any of our priority wish list items. It also had some serious cosmetic flaws.
“Nope,” I said, and the search for the perfect house continued.
But the search proved fruitless, and very soon we were forced to our knees in prayers of desperation. We were closing on the sale of our home in less than thirty days and had nowhere to go. My wife floated an idea.
“That house with the library is empty. Perhaps we could rent it for a few months?”
“Great,” I answered in a disgusted, defeated tone. “So now we have to waste money with a rental, too.”
Partially it was the fear speaking, but it was also the exposure of my arrogant assumptions. I had expected God to do something miraculous, along my timetable, and in any one of several ways I’d suggested. He didn’t follow my script and I was annoyed with having to wait for something else, something different that I hadn’t thought of.
My wife was patient with my dejection but she also challenged my attitude. It wasn’t that I lacked faith, it was my plain old grumpiness in having to wait for the provision that annoyed her. And she let me know — in her uniquely Irish way — to suck it up and get a move on. “You wouldn’t talk to Him that way if you knew Him better.”
The reprimand stung; it needed to. I apologized, shook off my annoyance, and went through the motions putting on a brave face for the benefit of our kids. But inside I was dejected.
I’d been praying in faith for God to miraculously provide the perfect home for us, but He hadn’t and I was a jerk about it. I was too tired to pray anymore; I just wanted to rest. I wanted to unpack our boxes that had been in the garage for months. (Let it be known it’s not wise to separate a family of literature nerds from their ninety boxes of books.) I didn’t want to move our piano to a rental, only to have to move it again to another house sometime down the road. I wanted to be done. I wanted to rest in the victory.
Why does it always have to be so hard? Why does it feel like that promise of miraculous provision, healing, justice, restoration, or a thousand other needs always seems just around the corner, but we feel like we’re walking in circles around a big pillar?
I wrestled with God: Why can’t You just give us a break? Why do we have to go through all of this?
Why this, why that? Why does God let this go on?
Through all of my whining about the rental, He was uncharacteristically silent — to me anyway. My wife was at perfect peace. I didn’t hear His voice, didn’t get a confirmation that we were following the right path. It was just us doing what we thought was best, and hoping for a miracle at a later date.
Have you ever moved a family of nine, in January, in Alaska? I’m a logistics guy and normally relish this kind of a challenge, but it was cold and I was in no mood. That particular week was also wet and icy. We had to enlist help from friends and family, but managed to get everything moved to the library house in a dozen trips across town. Once the piano was in place we were done, and we ate chili with our friends that night, wondering what would come next.
We went to bed exhausted, a little relieved to be warm and dry, and also ready to see what God had for us next.
Can I tell you, friends, that that is a good place to be? If you’re in a place of waiting on Him to deliver but you can rest in the calm, cherish it. Not everyone waiting for a miracle is so fortunate.
The next morning I stumbled downstairs and rummaged through the kitchen boxes for the coffee pot. Outside the windows the Alaskan morning was still dark, the sun still hiding behind the mountains. I made the coffee, cleared off a spot on the sofa, and sat down with an exhausted thud. And that’s when I first noticed it: The view.
I marveled as I looked out of those windows, windows everywhere, all facing the nearly panoramic view of mountains which were just then coming to life as the sun rose. It was marvelous.
In that moment God asked me, “What do you think?”
I was dumbstruck, and shook my head. I’d questioned His ways, His timing, His perfection, and all I could do was admit my folly. “Forgive me,” was all I could say.
All of the uncertainty about what came next fell away. I was home, and I knew it. It was a moment I will always remember, because He knew what I wanted — what I needed — so much better than I did. It didn’t take long before the entire family realized what a gift we had in the library house, and the inevitable decision to buy it a few weeks later was unanimous.
Sometimes God brings us to a place we don’t want to go to, in a non-sensical manner, for reasons we don’t realize. And maybe He’s doing that with you, or us, or with someone you care about. It’s never comfortable in the process of transition, and sometimes He remains silent while we endure it; I don’t understand why that is, but the older I get, the more I suspect it may be because He delights in surprising us — like walking a blindfolded friend toward a gift.
If we know Him well enough, we will let Him lead us through those seasons of uncertainly, and even laugh at the absurdity of new obstacles. We can respond to them with grumpy arrogance and question His methods, or roll with it in joyful expectation of what He plans to surprise us with.
Suddenly, a fierce storm struck the lake, with waves breaking into the boat. But Jesus was sleeping. The disciples went and woke him up, shouting, “Lord, save us! We’re going to drown!” Jesus responded, “Why are you afraid? You have so little faith!” Then he got up and rebuked the wind and waves, and suddenly there was a great calm. The disciples were amazed. “Who is this man?” they asked. “Even the winds and waves obey him!”
Matthew 8: 24-28 NLT
In the turbulent days ahead may His peace have His way in your life and in our lands. He knows how to write a great story. May we rest while He continues His work, and may we embrace the wind and the shaking as we wait for Him to set all things right, even if that necessitates unleashing a little storm first.
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