When the Moon Blocks the Sun

For the past several weeks (in the midst of moving), I've been mulling over Psalm 73.  In it, Asaph (the writer) wrestles with the goodness of God; specifically, he seeks to resolve the tension between what he knows to be true and his seemingly contradictory experiences.  The gist of the Psalm goes something like this: "God I know You are good to Your people, but I've gotten so tripped up by what I've seen.  So many people who do horrible, wicked things and have no regard for You or Your ways have trouble-free lives.  Yet, those who love You and seek to obey You can't catch a break from hardship.  What's up with that, God?  What's the point of doing right if it only leads to more heartache and struggle?"  Then, Asaph turns his eyes from other people to his God, and he sees that in the end, his lot is far better than that of the godless who will be destroyed violently, swiftly, and suddenly.  He admits that in the midst of his pain and jealousy, he was stupid and lacking in understanding.   Yet, God still guided and counseled him gently through all of that.  He concludes the Psalm by reiterating what he declared at the beginning, but this time with more personal conviction: "But as for me, the nearness of God is my good; I have made the Lord GOD my refuge, that I may tell of all Your works." 

Less than a week before we moved, I found out my thyroid levels were messed up again, and I had to have my Synthroid dosage increased again.  I went through another round of asking God the same questions Asaph asked and the same questions I know many others in the infertility community have asked:  I know I'm not anywhere near perfect, but why is this so hard for me when so many people who are not at all ready or fit to be parents can conceive a child instantly?  If teenage girls can get pregnant, why can't I see a positive pregnancy test?  If child abusers, drug addicts, and rapists can have children, why are my arms still empty?  If hundreds of thousands of unwanted babies are aborted each year in the U.S., why is the child I so desperately want still nothing more than a dream?  God, do You really have my good in mind if You are withholding what You say is a good gift and reward from me?  Like Asaph, my pain and bitterness clouded my understanding, and before I realized what was happening, I experienced another spiritual eclipse with the moon of my circumstances blocking out the sun of God's presence. 

The same God who guided and counseled Asaph in the midst of his pain-induced ignorance and senselessness guides and counsels me.  I've written so many times before that we have to align our perspective with God's perspective to find peace and understanding in the midst of difficult circumstances.  We have to fix our eyes on eternity instead of this temporary life.  I know this to be true, but I still have to choose it on a moment-by-moment basis.  I have to fix my eyes on Jesus and refuse to look away.  When the darkness falls around me, I have to remember that the Son has not changed or abandoned me.  He is still there, and it is only a short while before I will be able to see His glory clearly all around me again.  

The nearness of God IS my good.  That phrase leapt of the page the first time I read this Psalm, and it has lodged itself in my mind ever since.  I fall into the trap of thinking that "my good" equates to having a perfect marriage, a vibrant ministry, a great house, and children to call my own.  If those things don't fall into place, then how can I say that God is really good to me?  This type of thinking expects God to perform before we will accept Him as He is.  Yet, God accepts us and loves us without any regard for our performance.  Why do we assume that we can impose our own requirements on the God of the universe?

As my husband has taught several times to various groups of youth, God is the scale to measure goodness.  We can't weigh Him against other good things in order to draw comparisons.  He is the scale, the ruler,  the standard, the very definition and essence of goodness.  He just wants us to trust Him.  He is trustworthy because He is good and He does good.  The nearness of God is my good, and it is all I really need. He wants my heart, and He has already given me His.  There is no greater good than being near to God.  It's what we were made for.  All else in this life pales in comparison to knowing Him and walking with Him.

The Next Thing

My teachers at Frontier School of the Bible warned me.  They said that we shouldn't be surprised when we teach truths from God's Word and then soon after find ourselves tested on those very same truths.  When I wrote my last post, "The Enticement of Escape," I hadn't felt the way that I described for quite a while.  I could relate to what I was reading in Psalm 55 from past experiences, but it wasn't something that I was particularly struggling with right then. 

Then, more life happened.  We were suddenly bombarded with discouragement and frustration on all sides.  I started really feeling the weight of it all while we were cabin leading for Senior High week at Maranatha Bible Camp.  I told my husband on that Thursday that I felt like I was lugging around a boulder.  My heart was heavy with so many different burdens. I retreated to be alone before God for an hour or so, and He did lift the weight, but my heart was still not completely free from turmoil and exhaustion.  All of it came to a head a few days ago, and I found myself getting angry with God and with my husband again.  I wanted someone to blame.  I wanted to run.

During one of our Grow Groups at camp, the speaker taught about our freedom as believers to choose.  We do not have to be a slave to our circumstances and feelings.  Because of Christ, we can choose to respond differently.  I can choose to trust God even when the stuff of my life doesn't seem to jive with what I think He should do.  I can choose to live in the joy of Christ even when I'm hurting.  I don't always make the right choice.  I need His grace desperately.

Yesterday, God brought me another reminder to free me up again.  In her book, Keep a Quiet Heart, Elisabeth Elliot advises her overwhelmed readers to "just do the next thing."  The first time I received a stack of class syllabuses outlining every single homework assignment required in all of my courses for the year, I nearly had a meltdown.  On top of all of my extra-curricular and church activities, I could not fathom how I could possibly get everything done.  However, I quickly learned that the load wasn't nearly so daunting if I just focused on what needed to be done that day.  I just had to do the next thing. 

I can get so wrapped up in worrying about the future and problems I can't control or change that I forget to look at what's right in front of me.  There's no sense in that kind of thinking.  It reminds me of the little boy I babysit.  He has recently been learning to walk, and he has gotten pretty good at it.  He can walk all over the house.  However, the problem is that he doesn't pay attention at all to his individual steps.  He gets so excited and fixated on where he is going that he is constantly in danger of stumbling over his minefield of toys or slipping on a book and slamming his head on the hard floor.    

God has only given me today: this moment, this step. My assignment is simply to listen to him and just do the next thing.  He will take care of the rest. Giving in to anger and seeking someone to blame doesn't fix anything.  God knows what He is doing.  I have to give Him the load and quit taking it back.  He's walking with me, and He will guide me through - one step at a time.