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)

Utter rawness, unspeakable ravages: Would I learn to dance with a limp?

“Grief bleeds through the pages of our lives, marking the pages and stories that follow,” says Jonathan Trotter. “Failing to acknowledge these chapters is to censor. To edit out. To delete plot twists and main characters. To murder history. So we leave the pages as they are, splotched and imperfect. . . .” 

So I won’t censor here. I won’t edit out. Instead, I’ll blurt it out: It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do: to let go of my son, Matt, and my daughter, Karen—those precious, beloved children God had given to me—to turn my back on them and, instead, go where God’s finger pointed. 

As I told you before, “Sometimes people and things can become too important to us,” writes Chuck Swindoll. “We grip them with closed fists and white knuckles, and God has to pry open our fingers to loosen our hold.” (Abraham, The Friend of God) 

Beth Moore’s words capture what I faced. She asked herself, “What if this is a critical moment?  What if this very thing, this very decision, is the most important piece of the purpose comprising my purpose?” 

I sensed God asking me to do something similar to what He had asked Abraham—to place his child on an altar as a sacrifice to Him. God’s request would reveal to Him, and perhaps just as important, it would reveal to Abraham, whether God was Number One in his life. 

God seemed to stand there and ask if I would give highest priority to Him and His plans for me rather than to my plans to live near my children and enjoy them. 

Again, dear Beth Moore put into words what I could not have. She writes, “At some of the hardest times of my life, I have been able to make the more difficult choice out of pure blind-eyed, bent-kneed acceptance that it was somehow part of a greater plan.” (Beth Moore, Esther) 

I knew what I had to do. 

One by one, I placed my kids on an altar I had pictured in my mind. I began with my precious Karen. I had to let go, offer her up to God, walk away, and grieve—grieve—for days. 

I repeated the process with son Matt. 

My mourning was palpable. 

This month-long process left me emotionally spent, numb, my heart torn to shreds. How can I put it into words? I can’t. Words can’t capture the utter rawness, the unspeakable ravages of dying to oneself in order to die to one’s children, even when we do it because God is asking that of us. 

What does a person do next? Where does a person go next? What does a person think next? 

Anne Lamott wrote about grief. “Your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold. . . .” 

I felt like Habakkuk, who cried out to the Lord, “How long, O Lord? I shout to you in vain; You don’t answer” (Habakkuk 1:2). I hollered at Him: “So, I’ll never get over this pain? This broken heart of mine will never heal completely? The rest of my life will feel like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly and still hurts when the weather gets cold? Is that what I have to look forward to? Is that what You want for me?” 

All I could do was stand hopelessly broken and exhausted and stare at God, shaking my fists, demanding His answer. When Habakkuk cried out, God answered “Look, watch—and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something that you wouldn’t believe even if someone told you about it.” 

Habakkuk said, in effect, “God says He’s going to answer. So, okay, then, I’ll stand here, alert, waiting, watching for His answer. I’ll wait attentively, vigilantly, to hear what God has to say.”  (Habakkuk 2:1) 

That’s all I could do. Watch and wait. Watch and wait. To be still and watch and wait for God’s answer, for His clarification. Watch and wait for Him to help me take a breath, and then one more breath, His help to place one foot in front of the other, baby step by baby step.

But there was one more thing Anne Lamott observed about grief. 

Yes, that broken leg would not heal completely, but:

“You’ll learn to dance with the limp.” 

I would watch and wait, watch and wait. 

When He finally spoke, would God tell me 

that I’d learn to dance with the limp?

A tragic surprise ending to the motherhood I always envisioned

My husband, Dave, was determined to move to the mission field, but I wasn’t sure that was God’s will for us. Yet God seemed to be silent—for months. Oh, how I needed to hear from Him! 

The biggest issue was leaving our children. How could we live half a world away from our son and daughter for four long years?—and then another four years? 

Silently I cried out, When I became a mother, I did not plan to walk away from my children after only twenty-one years! 

I always dreamed our children and grandchildren would live nearby and that we’d get together often—but now, this! This felt like a tragic surprise ending to the motherhood I always envisioned. 

At the same time, I knew how much Dave wanted to join Wycliffe Bible Translators. We had worked with Wycliffe before—in South America, when our kids were little—and I believed wholeheartedly in their work. 

When I thought rationally about working with Wycliffe again, part of me felt okay, but I could find no peace about leaving my children. I feared I might die of a broken heart if I had to live so far away from them. What should I do? 

For months, I asked God to show me how to balance my responsibility to my husband, our children, and my Lord. 

And finally—finally!—I sensed some direction from Him. I sensed God asking me to do something similar to what He had asked Abraham—to place his child on an altar as a sacrifice to Him. God’s request would reveal to Him, and perhaps just as important, it would reveal to Abraham, whether God was Number One in his life. 

God told us in the Ten Commandments, “You shall have no other gods before me” (Exodus 20:3). Jesus called that the first and greatest commandment, saying, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength” (Mark 12:30). 

I knew that God wanted, and deserved, my highest loyalty, and that He didn’t want me to let anything or anybody—not even my children—take priority over Him. However, I knew those things in only an academic way. 

The time had come to move beyond mere head knowledge and to apply those principles to my real life. 

I thought of the times I had felt God’s tug, and the accompanying pain in my heart, while I sang the words—sincerely, I thought—“Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all.”* 

My all. Had I really meant those words? My all? Even my children? 

God seemed to stand there and ask if I would give highest priority to Him and His plans for me rather than to my plans to live near my children. 

But I had questions. First, when Abraham obeyed God and put Isaac on the altar, He let Abraham untie his son and take him home. If I, figuratively, placed my children on the altar, would God “untie” them and give them back to me? Or did He want me to sever my relationship with them? Or, could there be something in between?       

Eventually I knew what I had to do. 

One by one, I placed each person on an altar I had pictured in my mind. I began with daughter Karen. I had to let go, offer her up to God, walk away, and grieve for a few days. 

I repeated the process with son Matt, and then my parents. I did the same with our possessions, our life in Port Angeles, our home, our job security, and our income. 

This month-long process left me emotionally spent but, afterward, I could fill out the application to Wycliffe Bible Translators.  (from  Chapter 2, Grandma’s Letters from Africa) 

Oswald Chambers wrote, “Sometimes we have to look up mutely to God and say ‘I don't understand it at all, but go on with what You are doing.’” Those words surely capture what I felt during those months. 

Chambers went on to say, “That marks a real stage of learning to trust in God.” I was so emotionally and physically exhausted at the end of the month-long grieving process that I couldn’t have put my experience into words, but looking back now, I suppose Chambers was right—I was indeed learning to trust in God. 

Chambers continued: “Spiritual experience has begun; suffering has already deepened the soul.” 

On his Facebook Page, My Utmost for His Highest, Chambers asked—asks me, asks you—“What is God doing that defies understanding? What do I hope to gain by resisting? What can I hope to gain by trusting?” (Christian Disciplines)

*“When I Survey The Wondrous Cross,” Isaac Watts and Lowell Mason, in Baptist Hymnal, ed. Walter Hines Sims (Nashville: Convention Press, 1959) 99.

 

 

“Closed fists and white knuckles”

 

I’m still trying to bring down The Elephant in the Room.

 

“Sometimes people and things can become too important to us. We grip them with closed fists and white knuckles,” Chuck Swindoll writes, “and God has to pry open our fingers to loosen our hold. Perhaps that’s how it was between Abraham and Isaac.” (Abraham, The Friend of God)

 

Swindoll also writes:

 

“There are times when we look up full-hearted and prayerfully say, “O, Lord, in this crisp, clear, beautiful moment, You have everything that I own. You have all of me. There is nothing, nothing that I hold back.”

 

“It’s amazing how soon after those times of commitment God seems to require something sacred in our lives that puts us to the test.”

 

I know what he means. In a recent post, and in Chapter 2 of Grandma’s Letters from Africa I wrote of my grief over God’s request to leave my kids (and future grandkids) and move to Africa—and yet . . .

 

. . . And yet, I thought of the times I had felt God’s tug, and the accompanying pain in my heart, while I sang the words—sincerely, I thought—“Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life my all.” (When I Survey the Wondrous Cross, Isaac Watts and Lowell Mason)

 

Had I really meant those words?

 

My all? Even my children?

 

While God waited for my answer, I thought about the summer of my 15th year when our youth director challenged us to commit our lives one hundred percent to God. A few kids went forward but I remained in my chair, weighing what that commitment might entail.

 

I recognized I could neither see into the future nor fully comprehend God’s ways, and yet, after a few minutes of intense thought and prayer, I stood and walked forward. I really meant it—at the time.

 

And now God was offering me an opportunity to see if I still really meant it.

 

Though I didn’t understand it at the time, God was offering me a gift, offering to bring my faith, trust, and love for Him to a higher, deeper, broader level.

 

Accepting His gift, however, meant I had to sort through my entangled loyalties.

 

Recently I ran across notes I took while listening to Chuck Swindoll’s radio program around that time:

 

“God might be saying, ‘I want the Isaac of your life, without reservation, and I will show you step by step why I want your Isaac. You struggle because you’re unwilling to give God something you cherish. God wants first place in your life so He can arrange it the way He wants and so that you may be supremely happy.”

 

That “supremely happy” Chuck referenced has nothing to do with worldly happiness, material possessions, status, a guaranteed income, a comfortable life, an easy life, or even safety from dangers.

 

It has everything to do with the happiness that comes from letting God have first place in our lives—as much as we are humanly able.

 

We cannot love Him perfectly, 

we cannot give Him first place in our lives perfectly, 

but God knows that we’re mere humans 

and is quick to extend us His mercy and grace. 

He’s looking not for perfect people, 

but for people after His own heart. 

(Click on Becoming A Man or Woman After God’s Own Heart; 

see also 1 Samuel 13:14 and Acts 13:22.)

 

More on this next week. We’ve almost wrestled that elephant to the ground!

 

Assuming our love for God is ENOUGH and our grip on family and dreams is loose ENOUGH

We North Americans build our lives around our homes, possessions, spouses, children, friends, careers, income, health insurance, retirement plans, bank accounts, investments, dreams, and plans for the future. 

We call it pursuing “The American Dream.” 

If someone or something threatens our pursuit, we get mad, fall apart, feel victimized, cry “Unfair!” and feel cheated out of our rights. 

God asks us, however, to hold them loosely, and for good reason—so that He can occupy first place in our lives. 

Both the Old Testament and New Testament tell us: 

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength” (Mark 12:30, Deuteronomy 6:4-5). 

The Message puts it this way: “Love the Lord God with all your passion and prayer and intelligence and energy.” 

Usually, we estimate that our love for God is enough and that our grip on loved ones, treasures, and dreams is loose enough. 

But because God’s ways and thoughts are so different 

and so much higher than ours (Isaiah 55:8-9), 

sometimes He whispers, “Your grip is still too tight.” 

God isn’t mean-spirited. No, the point is this: He has something better for us, something that would leave us utterly amazed, things we wouldn’t believe even if we were told (Habakkuk 1:5).

But God lets us decide 

whether we want His something better. 

Sometimes, to help us decide, God puts us to the test, for both His sake and ours. Our decisions reveal to God—and to us, if we’re willing—the status of our faith in, and commitment to, Him. 

God put many of our heroes and mentors to the test, including our dear Old Testament role model, Abraham.  

God asked him to do the incomprehensible—unthinkable—unimaginable: He asked Abraham to place his beloved son, Isaac, on an altar and sacrifice him as a burnt offering (Genesis 22:1-2).  

Do you think Abraham staggered at the request? I do. 

Abraham played a key role in my eventual willingness to leave my very-young adult children and move to Africa, but let me hasten to make this clear: Unlike God’s request of Abraham, God wasn’t asking me to put my children to death. 

It took a while to figure out what God was asking of me and my kids, but here’s what I slowly began to understand: 

God was asking me to let go of my kids 

and place them in His hands, 

and then asking me to die to 

the dreams and plans I had as mother to my kids 

and grandmother to their kids. 

And yes, I staggered at God’s request. 

Back then, before I began to see more clearly what God was up to, He and I were in a monumental battle of the wills. He was pointing me toward Africa, but I was digging in my heels. 

In most situations, I wouldn’t have put up such a fight, but when it came to what was best for my kids—well, that was a different story. 

I felt no peace—none!—about leaving them. I just couldn’t shake the belief that they needed their parents to help them transition out of college and into adulthood. 

Those were dark days: It felt like God was asking me to walk away from my kids before I had finished the job He had given me: to raise them—and raise them well. 

Everything within me cried out that it wasn’t right! 

At the same time, I was not at peace about stomping my foot and saying “No!” to God. 

I needed to reorient my thinking, to recognize that God was offering me His something better. 

In coming weeks we’ll ponder what God asked Abraham to do, and why, but for now, what about you? 

Is God asking you to do something incomprehensible, unthinkable, unimaginable?  

Are you staggering from the enormity of it all? 

Could it be that He is asking you to give up to Him your best so He can give you His better? Something that will leave you utterly amazed, things you wouldn’t believe even if you were told? (Habakkuk 1:5)