When facing the terrifying unknown: “The only thing you know is that God knows what He is doing”

 

What will happen during 2021?

 

“Today dear friends,

we stand upon the verge of the unknown.

Who can tell what we shall find?

What new experiences,

what challenges shall come;

what new needs shall arise?

(L.B. Cowman, Streams in the Desert)

 

You don’t know what 2021 holds for you. I don’t know what the year holds for me, either. We face the unknown.

 

“The unknown.” What do those words do to you?

 

“The unknown” creates strong emotions for me when those two words inflict themselves on my life, my future, my family.

When I come face-to-face with “the unknown,” my stomach knots. My knees wobble.

 

I don’t know what I’ll find but I know I’ll face challenges, and I want to know:

• Just how challenging will the challenges be?
• Just how serious will the needs be?
• Will I come out okay on the other side?

 

Over and under and around it all, I wonder if I will handle them well.

 

What about you?

 

What if, in 2021, you learn that “the unknown” turns out to be God asking you to do something that seems too hard?

 

What if “the unknown,” once known, is something that breaks your heart?

Or something that means the end of life-long dreams?

Or what if you suddenly have a crucial need?

What if the challenges of 2021 threaten to overwhelm you?

 

What if God asks you to give your “utmost” for Him?

 

At such moments, we stand at a turning point. We are at a defining moment.

 

We can say yes to God, take hold of His hand, and step into that potentially painful, frightful “unknown.”

 

Or we can tell God no, turn away, and try to slog through life on our own terms.

 

The choice is ours.

 

“Before we choose to follow God’s will,

a crisis must develop in our lives. . . .

He brings us to the place where He asks us

to be our utmost for Him and we begin to debate.

 

He then providentially produces a crisis

where we have to decide—for or against.

 

That moment becomes a great crossroads in our lives.”

Oswald Chambers

 

As you know, Abraham has been a special hero to me for years now. Let me explain why:

 

God made a staggering request of him: “Leave your country, your people and your father’s household and go to the land I will show you.” (Sounds like what missionaries do, doesn’t it?)

 

God didn’t tell Abraham where he was supposed to go—only that he was to go (Genesis 12:1). He was asking Abraham to give his utmost for Him.

 

So there he stood, at a critical turning point in his life.

 

Who knows how long

Abraham debated with himself

and with God

as he stood at his crossroads?

He must have agonized.

 

But, bless his heart, at his defining moment, Abraham agreed to go where God sent him even though he did not know where he was going.

 

The book of Hebrews summed up Abraham’s pivotal moment this way:

 

“Abraham, by faith, obeyed and went out,

even though he did not know where he was going”

(Hebrews 11:8).

 

He set out, simply trusting God. Talk about a blind leap of faith!

 

Perhaps today you stand at a crossroads and you’re debating whether to say “yes” or “no” to God. If not today, maybe a week from now, or ten months from now.

 

During 2021,

when you face as-yet-unknown challenges and needs,

when your stomach knots and your knees wobble,

when you don’t know where God is leading you,

may the following words encourage you: 

 

“The only thing you know

is that God knows what He is doing.

Continually examine your attitude toward God

to see if you are willing to ‘go out’

in every area of your life,

trusting in God entirely. . . .

You don’t know what God is going to do next.

Each morning . . . is a new opportunity

to ‘go out’ building your confidence in God.”

(Oswald Chambers)

 

An opportunity?

Yes, an opportunity!

An opportunity to trust God,

an opportunity to grow in faith.

 

For the Lord your God

takes hold of your hand and says to you:

“Don’t be afraid. I will help you.”

(Isaiah 41:13)

When God asks your children to make a heart-wrenching sacrifice

 July 11, 1993, at seven minutes after five in the morning, Dave and I backed out of the driveway in Port Angeles. My mother stood beside our car with her arm around Karen, only twenty-one years of age and newly graduated from college, and together they waved goodbye. Tears streaked down their faces.

 

I choked on my own sobs. How could I survive four years without seeing them?

I then entered into another type of grief. Before, I only imagined walking away from the altars. (Don’t miss I could say “yes” to  God, or I could say “no”). (See also Still wrestling down that elephant in the room and Assuming our love for God is enough and our grip on family and dreams is loose enough.) 

 

The time had come to live out the reality of it. I felt almost dead inside but, at the same time, something in me whispered to God, I lift up this offering to You. Please find it an acceptable sacrifice. Find in it a sweet aroma. (See Philippians 4:18 and Exodus 29:18.)

 

We were heading toward Dallas for pre-field meetings. That first morning in the car, after the sun rose, I opened my favorite devotional book. To my surprise, my precious Karen had lettered several Bible verses and slipped them into the book on special dates.

 

For August 11, the date of our flight out of the States, she wrote in her graceful script, “Anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and anyone who does not take up his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it” (Matthew 10:37–39). (See photo below.)

 

On the date of her birthday, she had written, “And everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life” (Matthew 19:29).

 

Inserted at her brother Matt’s birthday, she’d written, “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it. What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world but forfeits his soul?” (Matthew 16:24–26).

 

When I read those words in Karen’s handwriting, I sensed that she had placed her parents upon the altar, lifted us up before God, had gone through her own grieving, and in the process had come to some understanding of those verses’ meanings. (from Chapter 2, Grandma’s Letters From Africa)

 

Words can’t capture the utter rawness, 

the unspeakable ravages of dying to oneself 

in order to walk away from one’s children, 

even when we do it because God is asking that of us.

 

Words can’t capture the utter rawness, 

the unspeakable ravages of what Karen 

and her brother Matt experienced 

in order to let go of their parents and, instead, 

to offer only their benedictions and love.