“Lord, make me a godly man. Lord, mold me into a
woman after your own heart. . . . But don’t let it hurt too much.”
Have you ever
prayed such prayers?
I do. All the
time. Every day I pray for God to give me and my husband and kids and grandkids
a soft, easy life. A life protected from difficulties.
But Chuck’s words zing me: They tell me
I’m shortsighted in my thinking and my yearning and my praying.
Chuck continues: “‘Lord,
make me stable, long-suffering, and gracious,’ but don’t remove too many of my
creature comforts.”
“‘Lord, teach me
faith, make me strong,’ but don’t let me suffer.”
Chuck points out, “We
want instant maturity, not the kind that requires sacrifice or emotional pain
of hardship. ‘Lord, give me patience . . . and I want it right now!’” (Charles
R. Swindoll, Great Days with the Great Lives)
You, like me,
probably ask God to remove roadblocks and pot-holes.
We ask him to give
us stress-free lives. We want carefree, peaceful days.
We want happiness
and joy, not sadness.
We beg God to
prevent heartbreaks and detours and setbacks.
But loved ones die.
Health fades. Pandemics wreak havoc in countless ongoing ways. Finances dry up.
Marriages fail. Children rebel. We do stupid things that hurt others and ruin
our relationships. Careers crumble.
We cry out in pain
when our plans collapse and our dreams die.
We feel broken and
worry we’ll never be whole again—that in a sense we are dying. We’ll never
return to “normal.”
But our perspective
can change if we realize that every life has its sorrows and losses and disasters
and failures and that if we cooperate with Him, God can use them for our good.
That’s what Romans
8:28 means: “We know that in everything God works for the good of those who
love him” (NCV).
But does God
really do that? And if He does bring good from bad, how?
Chuck Swindoll
continues, likening our experiences to a training course: “God’s spiritual
boot camp . . . is designed for our development toward maturity. . . .”
Development, he said.
Maturity. Like boot camps, our challenges—our road to maturity—can require
self-discipline and hard work. A tenacious faith.
All the hard stuff
God allows is designed to make us better, stronger. It’s a fine-tuning process,
a way of encouraging us to change. With His help, we can leave behind what’s
not so good and replace it with what’s better.
Because, let’s
admit it. Each of us has rough edges, hard chips and slivers in our hearts,
blind spots. Each of us is selectively hard of hearing. Each of us hangs on to
some childishness. Selfishness.
But Bill Gaither’sold song offers us hope for the future: “All I had to offer Him was brokenness
and strife, but He made something beautiful out of my life.”
Read that again: “He
made something beautiful out of my life.”
While writing your
memoir,
look for the ways
God has taken your heartbreaks,
your ragged edges,
your tragedies, your regrets,
and made something
beautiful of your life.
Look at this
photo.
Those delightful tiles were bludgeoned, seemingly destroyed. But within
the ruins, someone saw worth and usefulness. Someone made something beautiful
out of it—and gave it a lovely reason to exist, a way to serve a good purpose as a serving tray.
Examine your life.
The Bible says God bestows on broken ones “a crown of beauty instead of ashes.
. . .” (Isaiah 61:3) Even within the poundings and the breakings that you’ve experienced,
God sees you as a child of great worth to Him, beloved and useful for His good
purposes.
He has made and
continues to make you increasingly beautiful in His sight.
He has given you a
lovely reason to exist, ways to serve His good purposes while on this earth.
Take all the time
you need to discover
the specific ways
God has put together all your broken pieces
and made you
beautiful and useful—useful to Him and to others.
In the process,
ask yourself:
What, specifically, is the grout
between my pieces?
What kinds of
grace and mercy and love are represented by the grout?
Write your
stories!
God can use your
memoir to help others discover
how beloved and beautiful
they are in God’s sight.
Your story can
help others live loved.
“It won’t be painless.
It won’t be quick.
But God will use your
mess for good.”
(Max Lucado, You’ll Get Through This)
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