The other day my 5 year old boy was trying to get my attention while I was trying to work. He was very consistent and he used all his artillary to invade my work time. I tried to defuse the sitiuation by turning on the TV, but that did not work. I then gave him some toys but still that did not work. I finally sat down with him, turned off the TV, put the toys away and then asked hm, Son what do you want? Daddy, he said, I'm tired and I want to sit with you and take a nap. So I held him for a while, told him a story and within ten minutes he was asleep in my arms.
During this time I realized that my son would take no substitute or replacement for his time with me. It is where he found comfort, peace and security. Here in this moment I was able to see that this is what I do with God. The world and all its material offerings had no bearing on my liittle boy, all he wanted was to rest with me and be at peace. To often we try to substitute God and all His love with artificial possesions. We try to substitute something else for God’s comfort. The problem comes when we look to our comforts to stop the pain. True comfort doesn’t stop the pain. It makes the situation bearable. It gets us through. We are human – we want the pain to stop. And yet, sometimes, pain is what opens the door to experiencing God’s comfort. It is when we are desperate that He steps in and touches us in unusual ways. He wants to cradle us, rock us, and soothe us.
We need comfort in a host of situations, experiences and emotional states, but there is a difference between needing comfort and what I call “coming undone.” We can come undone in our greatest moments of loss, failure, betrayal or fear. We are unable to find relief. When you are undone, you have exhausted your ability to get comfort from anything around you. People can’t comfort you. None of the familiar comforts work anymore. There’s nowhere to turn. No letup. You’re just undone.
When you are undone, it is as if you have been thrown out of the boat. You can’t touch the bottom, see the shore, or even get a hold of the boat itself. You feel alone and desperate. You can’t see what is ahead, nor can you reach back for what is behind you. You are at a complete loss. You are exhausted physically, emotionally and spiritually. And yet the waves keep hitting you, one after another. You are tired. You can’t battle it anymore. You have none of your own resources left. The problem has taken over, and you can’t focus on the Lord. He is out of focus; everything is out of focus. All you know is the problem. And it is overwhelming.
“Undone” is not a place God wants us to stay. His goal is to comfort us in our brokenness and then lead us out of it. But you do have an enemy committed to keeping you undone. He will use whatever means necessary to shut you down and convince you that you will never function and never be whole again. The enemy wants you to believe that undone is the new normal.
In Luke 22:31 Jesus says, “Simon, Simon, behold, Satan has demanded permission to sift you like wheat.” That’s what the enemy wants to do – sift us, fragment us, take us apart.
Satan knows our failures and weaknesses. He knows our fears and the areas in which we find ourselves insufficient. The “the accuser” will send words through you such as:
“Nothing will ever change.”
“No one will ever love you.”
“You can’t possibly do that.”
“You’re inadequate for this – you’ll never pull it off.”
“You’ve blown it again.”
“You’ll always be a failure.”
“You’re destined for mediocrity.”
“Your hopes and dreams will never come to pass.”
“God can’t use you anymore. You’ve made too many mistakes.”
These are the kinds of words the enemy sows into our minds and hearts, but we have the Word of God, which tells us what God says about us. Someone far greater than the enemy is living in our hearts and fighting on our side. (1 John 4:4)
God does not create our ruins.
Undone is never the final chapter with God. He promises comfort. He promises restoration. He promises joy and gladness. Thanksgiving. No matter what the enemy says or does, we can know God’s comfort in our ruins.
My son did not need to travel far to find comfort for the arms of his father are always open and that it what we all need to remember.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
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