father knows best

Warning:  This is a bit of a ramble.  Don't read unless you're up for ramble.


I'm wrestling at the moment.


And I've never been a good wrestler.


Before you fall victim to grotesque visions of me in a singlet, allow me to clarify: I've talked about when God gives us blessings, but this post is about when He takes them away... and I don't think I'm alone on the wrestling mat here.


We've all experienced the struggle of loss, on a grand variety of levels, many times.  No matter how many though, the matches that come never fail to present new challenges.  And - if you're like me - you get so caught up in the fight that you forget what's going on... and who's in charge.

The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.

Job 1:21

Not that this is breaking news, but our Father has a plan.  He knows what he's doing, and he knows why, and I have to trust that he's right.  


(I don't say that in a passive manner.  More like a my-life-depends-on-him manner).  


I feel like I'll understand this whole concept a lot better when I'm a parent.  You're probably familiar with what havoc a child can wreak if not for the parent.  Fortunately, parents know what's best for their child and they are willing to go to great lengths to teach, protect, and care for him.

God has his reasons.  

In discussing trust, one of my favorite teachers (Professor Reek, for my Concordia peers) gave an illustration that left a deep impression on me.  I'm liable to mess it up a bit, but mind if I share?  When you build a ship - at least how they used to - you don't start in water.  You start on land.  Close to water.  As you build, you support the structure with props. There can be a lot of them.  When the boat is ready for water though, all those props are taken away... and the boat is put out onto water.  And it floats.  It doesn't need those props.

God gives us so many blessings.  He uses them to help us grow and learn.  He loves us in those blessings.  But ultimately, we don't need them - we need him; and there comes a time when he takes those props away so that we are forced to rely upon him.  That ocean.  And he won't let us sink.  

We would never fulfill our purpose if we stayed on the props, and we wouldn't trust him to hold us up if we never tested the waters.

Perhaps my soliloquy should end here in a neat little package, but - if for my own processing - I'll risk a few more thoughts:  To borrow Shakespeare's words, I feel like I "trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries" (Sonnet 29) because I don't understand.  Sometimes that's all you can do when you hurt beyond hurt - and it's frustrating because it seems like God never answers.

I don't think God is against our wanting to understand, but he is against our not trusting.  What is love without trust?  God's all about love.

Wrestling is exhausting.  As I consider God's trustworthiness, I can't help but collapse - tears and all - into the arms of the only one who will never fail me.  Who will never leave me.  Who will always love me.


My Father knows best.