Joy is always a function of gratitude,
Ann Voskamp
and gratitude is always a function of perspective.
If we are going to change our lives,
we are going to have to change the way we see.
Life is a circle of seasons. One minute, we are sharing laughter with a friend over a latte. Then, an unexpected wave of adversity hits us, and we find ourselves sitting at the table keeping company with fear and anxiety.
We pull up our bootstraps and wade into the thick of adversity, determined that “we can get through this.” But doubt overshadows hope when days turn into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years.
“Finish the race well,” we say. But how do we run the marathon when we are spiritually, emotionally, and mentally dehydrated? What steps can we take to ensure we reach the finish line with our faith intact?
When Steve and I married, I knew he suffered from seizures brought on by a back injury. Before we walked the aisle, he confessed, “The doctor says I will be in a wheelchair by the time I am in my forties.”
I knew God had put us together and would get us through whatever the future held. My faith felt unshakeable.
But ten years into our marriage, a violent episode left Steve passed out on the floor at work. For the first time, my resolve began to falter. Spinal taps, brain scans, and MRIs brought no comforting or definitive answers. Managing the pain and seizures with medication was our only course of action. We were tired and discouraged. Was this our future? Was it ever going to get better? What if it didn’t?
I remember collapsing on the couch late one evening after tucking our kids into bed and ensuring Steve was comfortable. As tears streamed down my face, I prayed, “Oh God, please heal my husband. Take away the pain. Bring health to his body, please!” My shoulders shook with each sob.
As I wept, I sensed God’s comforting presence wrap around me. And as He held me, He gently whispered, “Why are you fighting against me? I am doing a deeper work in your husband, something greater than physical healing.” His question startled me. I never intended to fight Him. But the longevity of this trial had chipped away at my heart to the point I just wanted immediate relief. In my pain, I had lost sight of the bigger plan.
But God was about to align my vision to His and equip me for the duration of the race. Until now, I could only see the pain that loomed in front of us daily. What God wanted me to see was 2 Corinthians 4:16-18 lived out in our home.
So, no wonder we don’t give up.
2 Corinthians 4:16-18
Even though our outer person gradually wears out,
our inner being is renewed every single day.
We view our slight, short-lived troubles in the light of eternity.
We see our difficulties as the substance that produces for us an eternal,
weighty glory far beyond all comparison
because we don’t focus our attention on what is seen
but on what is unseen.
For what is seen is temporary, but the unseen realm is eternal.
What God did that night was pull the glasses of this temporary life away from my eyes so that I could view the world through His eyes.
Dear friends, God is gracious, loving, and mighty to save. His redemptive work on the cross invites us to pour out our pain and brokenness at His feet. But let’s do it through the lens of eternity, remembering that God is working deeper truths and plans than our immediate comfort. He wants us to know who He is, trust that He is enough, and let the hope we find in Him spill out onto a world in desperate need of His truth.
“Dear Father, we long to come to the end of our days and know we remained faithful to You. But so often, the cares and concerns of this world grind away at our resolve. Teach us to see the world through your eyes. Show us how to pray with your heart. May we run with patience the race set before us, with our eyes fixed firmly on You, the author and finisher of our faith. And as we run, may a watching world see people who run with passion, full of hope, because we set our sights on what matters. YOU.”
