A
test of faith is an act of grace.
This
weekend was one of those times when nothing goes according to plan. Saturday
was supposed to be a day full of projects and tasks as we prepare for Melissa’s
parents, who will arrive this Wednesday. Sunday was supposed to be a calm morning
breakfast with our dear friend Yvonne, who just returned from the States,
followed by a quiet afternoon before gathering with our teammates in the
evening.
Instead,
Saturday began with a headache that was destined to set the tone for the rest
of the day. I could get into all the details, but suffice it to say that most
everything we did (despite actually get a lot accomplished) was difficult,
tedious, and more time-consuming than we anticipated. Miscommunication led to
frustration and impatience. Technical difficulties (like my moto dying
alongside the road AGAIN) led me to anger. At various points throughout the day
we found ourselves grumbling and woeful, which often led us to be edgy towards
one another and to those around us. Sunday wasn’t much different. By the middle
of the day I’d had just about all I could handle of things falling apart or not
working out. And it didn’t help that in the morning on Saturday, during my
devotional time, I had been asking the Father to lead us to a deeper place of
faith. I had prayed exactly these words: “Test our hearts. Find us sincerely
surrendered and joyful.” Those words haunted me instead of helping. I felt that
I had failed.
As
is often the case, I didn’t perceive all the twists and turns of the weekend as
a test of faith until way late in the game. I didn’t realize that my prayer had
actually been answered. But Sunday afternoon, standing over the shambles of the
previous day and a half, I finally stopped my sulking and fuming and sought the
Father’s voice. He led me to see that my patience and love had been tested this
weekend, and that the fire of our trials (minute as they really were, in the
long run of things) had revealed my selfishness and anger. The old man yet
clings to me.
But
then the Father showed me grace, and in many ways. First he showed me that this
testing was an act of grace. Second he showed me that it was grace that first
led my heart to pray what I prayed, and which led him to answer. And he showed
me it was grace now that taught me, here on the other side of failure.
And
then another level of grace brought me to another truth, another lesson, which I
am now currently pondering and seeking to take to heart. So let me share it
with you.
I
realized today that I do have a
desire and readiness to give and to love and to serve others. I do really want
to spend my life this way. And the only way this is possible is through the
very real grace of the Father. Without his grace in my heart, I would be one
impatient, angry time bomb, the fragments of my explosive nature ripping apart
the world around me. But instead, I am gradually becoming less angry and more
patient. You want proof of grace in your life? This is it.
Wonderful
as that truth is, that is not the lesson I want to share. I learned something
new today, again. The Father revealed to me that I do in fact have the imprint
of his grace in my life—and I rejoice in that!—but he also showed me that I have
by no means “arrived.” While it is true that I have a very real desire to give
of myself to others, it is likewise true that I struggle to perform this desire whenever I am not at ease. If I’m
comfortable, I can follow through on the desire to serve others. If things aren’t
so peachy for me, forget it.
It
struck me that it is no great thing for me to be generous—with my resources,
with my time, with my energy, with my patience—when
I feel secure. Prior to this weekend, I felt that I really was ready to give
myself away to others—but I had assumed that readiness amid ease was enough. I assumed
giving out of myself, even sacrificially, was enough, without the necessity of
discomfort. But today I realized that discomfort
itself is often an agent of grace. It helps me see who I am. It forces me
to either embrace the old man or to walk in newness of life. I was forced to
such a crossroads today.
The
reality is that we are called to a readiness amid discomfort. I’m not just talking about those “extreme” cases
of persecution or trial. I’m talking about even those situations in which
something petty like an obstinate, broken down moto reveals our true colors. It
is in those moments that we are offered grace—a grace that desires to refine
us. It is, as I said, a crossroads—we are presented with an opportunity. Will
we respond to this moment according to the flesh or according to the Spirit?
This
weekend proved to me that I am thoroughly unable to respond as I ought. And I admitted
that to the Father. “You want me to walk this way. I can’t do it.” And he
reminded me that this is exactly the reason that he says, “My grace is
sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in your weakness.” “C’mon, Ryan. I
know that. That’s what my grace is for.”
The
other benefit of this weekend’s trials is that it proves that these truths are
not flowery, abstract ideas tucked away in some tired sermon series or
devotional book. These are real things. He can
give us the ability to give ourselves away. He can give us the grace to do so in the middle of discomfort,
confusion, and struggle. He really can
make us be full of “pure joy” in the midst of “trials of any kind,” whether it
is something big and scary like persecution or cancer or a loved one’s death,
or something small (but never insignificant) like a vehicle not starting or a
careless word or a mosquito bite. In all
of these things, we can have joy and experience grace.
That’s
the lesson I wanted to share with you today, and I hope it helps you as much as
it has helped me.
-R
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