There it was. The beauty of vulnerability in the struggle. The stunning light of community shining through as we saw her tears. The moment was so vivid, so real, it captured my soul.
It began with a simple question, "How are you doing?" But in the midst of this genuine question, our friend felt the safety of being real. The honesty that community brings. And it was that moment that made me understand everything that God has been teaching me.
About two months ago now, one of my friends told me about her struggle. A deeply lonely year, financial struggles, and a discontentment that we can all understand. She said, "Leah, why do bad things happen to good people?" In a joking matter, she laughed and said she was going to cry herself to sleep. The words quickly formed on the tip of my tongue and I almost said these dangerous words that would have ruined everything. "It's going to be okay, God will provide for you."
These are both unbelievably true statements. But the timing of these phrases was wrong. If those words would have flown from my flippant tongue, I'm sure the depth and the realness of the moment would have been shattered. It would have been like glass falling in a quiet room. An awkwardness would have settled.
Instead, I said something different. I affirmed her pain and her struggle. I think in doing so, I was invited into a journey I would have missed if I had covered her pain with a Christian bandaid.
This was the beginning of a journey for me. On the flipside, I felt like my life was going well. I am loving school, I have a good job with wonderful co-workers. My car is running efficiently. My life is beautiful. I am in a completely different place than I was last year at this time. Last year, I was still unsure of where I wanted to be, what I wanted to do, and I experienced a loneliness that shook me to my core. But my relationship with Jesus was thriving. I struggled with him and wrestled with him and I relied on him for everything. Somewhere in the transition from struggle to thriving, my relationship with God went from thriving to struggle.
Why is it that prosperity pushes us far from God? Prosperity screams a Gospel that is not accurate. It tells us that struggle is wrong, it whispers to the depth of our souls that we have to hold it all together. And even when it is going well, nothing can be wrong, nothing can be off. A facade is built. It says, "I'm fine. Jesus and I are great. My life is perfect."
Under that facade, though, I think is a struggle that is even more real. It is a struggle against pride and a struggle that tells me I don't need Jesus. It quenches the deepest of my thirsts with superficial, temporary fixes and I still come up searching for Living Water.
In the beauty of struggle, I see Jesus. Last year, even though my prayers consistently contained cries and fears, I met Jesus in ways I never have before. He was here with me within the deep struggle. I saw Jesus even when I wanted to let go. I see Jesus in my friend who is serving as a missionary struggling to learn the language, but thriving. I see Jesus in my friend who cannot understand why bad things are happening to her, but she is holding on to him. I see Jesus in my friend who lets tears fall down her face and tells me that it's been hard and she is trying to trust God but the world is telling her so many different messages, but in her vulnerability, I see Christ shining through.
The struggle is hard. The struggle stretches us beyond what we feel we are capable of enduring. The struggle often makes us want to let go of everything we live for because it is challenging. The struggle pushes us to Jesus. In our struggle, we realize that there is nothing else that we can hold onto. So I'll be honest, I'm struggling to hold onto Jesus in this season of prosperity, but as I look to him and see he is the greatest good, the purest love, the most wonderful companion, my doubts fade and my thirst for Him grows. And I know that in this struggle, I will meet him because he promises that when you seek him, you will find him.
It began with a simple question, "How are you doing?" But in the midst of this genuine question, our friend felt the safety of being real. The honesty that community brings. And it was that moment that made me understand everything that God has been teaching me.
About two months ago now, one of my friends told me about her struggle. A deeply lonely year, financial struggles, and a discontentment that we can all understand. She said, "Leah, why do bad things happen to good people?" In a joking matter, she laughed and said she was going to cry herself to sleep. The words quickly formed on the tip of my tongue and I almost said these dangerous words that would have ruined everything. "It's going to be okay, God will provide for you."
These are both unbelievably true statements. But the timing of these phrases was wrong. If those words would have flown from my flippant tongue, I'm sure the depth and the realness of the moment would have been shattered. It would have been like glass falling in a quiet room. An awkwardness would have settled.
Instead, I said something different. I affirmed her pain and her struggle. I think in doing so, I was invited into a journey I would have missed if I had covered her pain with a Christian bandaid.
This was the beginning of a journey for me. On the flipside, I felt like my life was going well. I am loving school, I have a good job with wonderful co-workers. My car is running efficiently. My life is beautiful. I am in a completely different place than I was last year at this time. Last year, I was still unsure of where I wanted to be, what I wanted to do, and I experienced a loneliness that shook me to my core. But my relationship with Jesus was thriving. I struggled with him and wrestled with him and I relied on him for everything. Somewhere in the transition from struggle to thriving, my relationship with God went from thriving to struggle.
Why is it that prosperity pushes us far from God? Prosperity screams a Gospel that is not accurate. It tells us that struggle is wrong, it whispers to the depth of our souls that we have to hold it all together. And even when it is going well, nothing can be wrong, nothing can be off. A facade is built. It says, "I'm fine. Jesus and I are great. My life is perfect."
Under that facade, though, I think is a struggle that is even more real. It is a struggle against pride and a struggle that tells me I don't need Jesus. It quenches the deepest of my thirsts with superficial, temporary fixes and I still come up searching for Living Water.
In the beauty of struggle, I see Jesus. Last year, even though my prayers consistently contained cries and fears, I met Jesus in ways I never have before. He was here with me within the deep struggle. I saw Jesus even when I wanted to let go. I see Jesus in my friend who is serving as a missionary struggling to learn the language, but thriving. I see Jesus in my friend who cannot understand why bad things are happening to her, but she is holding on to him. I see Jesus in my friend who lets tears fall down her face and tells me that it's been hard and she is trying to trust God but the world is telling her so many different messages, but in her vulnerability, I see Christ shining through.
The struggle is hard. The struggle stretches us beyond what we feel we are capable of enduring. The struggle often makes us want to let go of everything we live for because it is challenging. The struggle pushes us to Jesus. In our struggle, we realize that there is nothing else that we can hold onto. So I'll be honest, I'm struggling to hold onto Jesus in this season of prosperity, but as I look to him and see he is the greatest good, the purest love, the most wonderful companion, my doubts fade and my thirst for Him grows. And I know that in this struggle, I will meet him because he promises that when you seek him, you will find him.
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