A phone call, some oil, a hymn and a blog

I got a letter in the mail the other day regarding a bill I can’t pay.  Just another item on the list of things that have threatened to drown me lately.  The letter listed a deadline I can’t possibly meet – 3 days from now.  The money just isn’t there, but if I don’t pay the bill, the cost will be even higher.

My inner monologue since opening the letter has run along the lines of wondering why God hasn’t answered my prayers for provision.  And then reminding myself that He has provided.  Over and over again.  In two years of unemployment and underemployment, I have, through one way or another, had all of my needs met. 

And then I’ve gone back to wondering what I’ve done to offend God lately so that what I have is less than what I want and what I think I need.  But then a song comes on the radio and I’m reminded that He is faithful and He is sovereign and He always provides for His children.

And I’ve asked Him why He’s worked miracles for other people like providing exactly what they’ve needed exactly when they’ve needed it.  Then I remember the many, many times He’s done that for me these past two years.

All of my arguments are destroyed by His faithfulness.  All of my needs are met by His goodness.  All of my tears are dried by His grace.  Why do I keep arguing and worrying and crying?

So how does this story end?  Tonight I got a phone call.  The deadline listed in the letter was wrong.  I don’t have 3 days.  I have 3 weeks.  No, I didn’t get a check in the mail for the exact amount I needed.  No one knocked on my door with a wad of cash they felt God telling them to give me.  But in 3 weeks, I’m really pretty sure that bill will get paid because my God is my Provider.

“As surely as the Lord your God lives,” she replied, “I don’t have any bread—only a handful of flour in a jar and a little oil in a jug. I am gathering a few sticks to take home and make a meal for myself and my son, that we may eat it—and die.”  Elijah said to her, “Don’t be afraid. Go home and do as you have said. But first make a small cake of bread for me from what you have and bring it to me, and then make something for yourself and your son.  For this is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: ‘The jar of flour will not be used up and the jug of oil will not run dry until the day the Lord gives rain on the land.’”  She went away and did as Elijah had told her. So there was food every day for Elijah and for the woman and her family.  For the jar of flour was not used up and the jug of oil did not run dry, in keeping with the word of the Lord spoken by Elijah.  (1 Kings 17:12-16)

When the oil and flour were almost gone, when the woman was ready to make one last meal, God stepped in.  When the last seconds are on your clock, when the last dollar is in your wallet, when your strength and courage are moments away from being gone, God steps in.  He always has.  He always will.  Of this, I am convinced.

To God be the glory.  Great things He has done.  Great things He has taught us.  Great things He has done.  Give Him the glory.  Great things He has done.

P.S.  This blog post from Nate Edmondson (reposted by his dad) rocked my world tonight and set me on the path that led to my post.  Exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it.

 

Grace, greater than all my sin

I heard this song for the first time this week, and it just fit in so perfectly with what I’ve been learning about God’s grace.

 

The hardest thing to do

Forgiveness is an act of faith.  By forgiving another, I am trusting that God is a better justice-maker than I am. (Romans 12:19)  ~Philip Yancey, “What’s So Amazing About Grace?”

When I started reading Philip Yancey’s book about grace, I never even considered the possibility that he’d spend a third of the book talking about forgiveness.  But when I thought about it, I realized that without forgiveness, there is no grace and without grace, there is no forgiveness.  Grace, by definition requires forgiveness. 

In thinking about the grace I’ve been given by God through Christ’s death, I submit the following:

I’ve understood for years that through Jesus’ death on the cross, my sins are forgiven.  Justice has been served on my behalf.  But I always understood it in an abstract way and forgiveness, it turns out, can never be abstract.

On the cross, Jesus said, “Father, forgive them.  They don’t know what they’re doing.”  I always thought He was referring to the people who demanded his crucifixion, the people who put Him on the cross and the people who mocked Him as He hung there.  He was, but I now realize He was referring to me too.  In that moment, with those words, every sinner – not just those who stood below the cross or cowered in a corner somewhere in Jerusalem – was forgiven.  I will never read that passage the same way again.

In light of the forgiveness we have been given, therefore, what right do we have to withhold forgiveness from a fellow sinner?  The friend who betrayed us?  The child who rejected us?  The man who stole our innocence? 

It’s hard.  And in some cases, “hard” is too weak a word.  We want to see them suffer.  We want them to repent.  We want to hold onto the anger that has kept us strong and stoic for so many years.  In choosing to forgive, we may be forced to revisit the pain.  But in choosing not to forgive, don’t we revisit that pain everyday anyway?

But when we choose to forgive – when we choose to extend grace – we are freed from the bonds of past hurts.  We are freed to move forward in peace.  And who knows that our forgiveness may lead that person to repentance?  We can not afford to wait until it is the other way around.  God didn’t.

Why do you think it’s so hard for us to forgive?  What have you learned recently about forgiveness?