Knowing Amidst the Tempest

            Since moving to Montana, I’ve committed myself to exploring my natural surroundings every available weekend (weather permitting!). Today I ventured up Drinking Horse Mountain, a quick 1 mile jaunt up a hillside. Parts of the trail are steep and laborious, but multiple viewpoints reward the hiker who pauses to enjoy the journey rather than simply beeline to the top. I stopped a couple times, secretly appreciating the respite for my lungs, and allowed my senses to absorb the sights and sounds.

The final stretch of the trail is the steepest. I paused for a moment to catch my breath. That moment turned into one of those random pictures that God gives us of our spiritual journey. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the progress I’d made since my previous stop at one of the viewpoints. With my feet still pointing uphill, I looked over my shoulder to the path below. I thought to myself, “This must be why I love hiking: it’s an active metaphor for Christian living.” I stood with my feet planted in the direction I needed to move in order to obtain the final goal, but in my moment of catching my breath, I recalled the pauses along the path that had inspired me to continue my quest for the hilltop.

This past week has been tough. I especially miss my dad. We didn’t necessarily spend a lot of time together in Oregon, but he was ‘always there,’ and when we were together it was quality time. He’s a man I respect , and on whose wisdom I rely in many ways. I feel homesick, not for a place but for family. This leads to loneliness, and sometimes I slip into discouragement or frustration that God doesn’t change certain circumstances.  Then I end up battling guilt because God answered a prayer I’ve prayed for years (living in Montana), yet my desire for other areas to change means that leading me to Montana isn’t enough. Or condemnation sets in for not trusting God enough or being patient enough for the rest of my dreams or for His timing to be perfect.

Today I couldn’t escape the awareness that God had a significant piece of life’s puzzle that He wanted to put in its place. Since nobody else was on the hill at that moment, and my emotions were clouding my spiritual ears, I resigned myself to pacing like a crazy person, praying out loud, and singing until He accomplished what He wanted. Eventually I perched on a rock and turned my face toward heaven, closing my eyes. The Holy Spirit whispered a verse that I have always struggled with. Psalm 46:10, “Be still, and know that I am God….” I’ve never really been able to “be still,” so at first this verse frustrated me. (Can’t You speak any other verse, Holy Spirit?!) I kept my eyes closed and listened to the wind rush through the treetops around me. Picturing the words in my mind, I asked God to show me what He meant at that moment in that verse.

“Know.”

God instructs us to know that He is God. He doesn’t ask His followers to believe. He doesn’t suggest we try to have faith. He doesn’t say to feel assured. He says: “KNOW that I AM GOD.” How do we know anything? Unfortunately, as a product of a primarily postmodern education system, my mind works overtime trying to distinguish, ascertain, pinpoint, and dissect everything, often through questioning. I have been taught to doubt everything until it is proven. Separating this questioning of man’s philosophies from God’s Word is sometimes difficult for me.

But God has proven Himself. He provided us a written record of His acts, His character, and His will for mankind – both corporately and individually. He tells us Who He is. He reveals Who He is through what He has created, what He has done, and what He is doing. He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Our ability to recognize this Truth is provided by God’s grace in opening our spiritual eyes that we may see. We can know (recognize and understand) that He is God because “to [His children] it has been given to know the mystery of the kingdom of God…” (Mark 4:11).

I made the right decision to move to Montana, but it was also a step of faith, and I don’t think the enemy sits on his laurels when he sees us pressing deeper in the life of faith to which God has called us. I get the distinct impression that he reacts in precisely the opposite manner. God makes it abundantly clear that He is sovereign, and that we are to rely upon Him alone – for everything. Not that He doesn’t use people, but that people are merely a vehicle through which He disseminates grace and blessings.

Last night I wanted to turn off my alarm so that I could skip church, go for a hike, and then spend my day indulging in reading. I figured I could justify this by the fact that I’m reading a bunch of spiritual books right now. I sensed that acquiescing to my emotions would be giving a foothold to the enemy, though, and that I needed to drag myself to church, if for no other reason than to not give the enemy room to work in my mind and heart. Once there, I sat miserably in a chair, ridiculously insecure and plotting my escape as soon as the sermon was over. I ran out for a drink of water between the music and sermon, fully intending to avoid the awkward “say hello to someone near you” interval, but to little avail. Even sitting in my chair with a cup of water and not making eye contact, several people shoved a hand in my personal space, smiled, and said, “Good morning.”

As is typical of these types of Sundays, God used the message to encourage me at a time when I needed it most. The guest speaker, a pastor from Romania, preached from Matthew 8:23-27. This passage relates the story of Jesus sleeping in the boat when a tempest causes the fishermen (disciples) to fear for their lives. Jesus chastises His disciples for lack of faith, and then rebukes the wind and waves.  While the sermon wasn’t a newsflash by any means, the message was timely. The pastor reminded us to view stormy seasons in our lives through the correct lens. Basically: storms will come, the Holy Spirit will remind us of God’s promises, God has a purpose in storms, and Jesus goes through storms with us. The pastor used a simple analogy to sum up his message. A mouthful of flour or oil alone is distasteful, but a cook can take ingredients that, on their own, are unpleasant, and combine them into something sumptuous. So also God takes the storms of our lives and puts them together into something beautiful.

Loneliness is a tempest tossing many upon her angry waves. She respects no person: married or single, rich or poor, alone or surrounded by a multitude. We can take comfort in the fact that loneliness is a common experience within mankind, and as an emotion therefore subject to God’s sovereignty; however, I often succumb to the lie that I can avert loneliness by sheer will. I clinch my jaw, throw my shoulders back, and refuse to cry because there’s no crying in faith.

How wrong I am!

A few weeks ago, I faced a bout of loneliness. We stood 10 paces from each other, revolvers strapped to our sides, hands ready for the draw. Thinking I outsmarted Loneliness, I blasted away with my resolve to guard my heart and mind. I would not miss my family – they’re doing what God has called them to, and I’m a big girl. I would not succumb to the desire to be married – God obviously has other plans for me, so why bother wanting what He withholds. I would not consider myself alone, and therefore would not consider myself lonely – after all, I have Jesus! And so I shored up my heart, and I smugly asked Loneliness what she thought of her abilities to mess with me now.

Just one small problem…

I. I. I. I I I I.

After a few prideful days, I was miserable. Pride opened the door to so many other lies: God does not love me, I am forgotten, He has no plan for my life…. As I turned to Scriptures, God drew me back to Phil. 4:5-7, among other passages, “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.” These 2 verses pack an amazing quantity of cud for gurgitation. Typically, I get so stuck on the 3^rd phrase (giving thanks in everything) that my mind stops absorbing the full message by the end.

This time around, the final phrase pounded my conscious: “…will guard your hearts and minds….” No doubt existed in my mind; no measure of pride remained. Clearly I had sinned at the inception of my battle with Loneliness. I had taken up my weapons in a defensive posture, and I had resolved to protect my heart and mind. But God’s Word says that God’s peace will guard my heart and mind through Christ. I had usurped God’s role, God’s responsibility, God’s position. My pride had elevated my significance in my perception of my spiritual battles.

The result of my pride, of my efforts to protect myself, became apparent. I did not guard my heart and my mind. I had hardened my heart and mind. I subconsciously shoved people away, believing that this would protect me. The impact went even deeper: I had allowed the enemy a platform from which he could batter my heart and mind with lies about God.

This week I struggled with loneliness once again. The initial ‘high’ from new surroundings dissipated. The physical separation from loved ones took its toll. The lack of a ‘pardner’ frustrated me. Yet this time around when I felt the darkness moving in, I prayed those words from Scripture: “God, please grant your peace to guard my heart and mind.” The sadness, the sense of loneliness, did not lift from my shoulders, but the burden’s weight slackened as our faithful Father responded to a heart and mind yielded to His ways.

“Be still, and KNOW….”

            

           God grants us the knowledge that He is God. This isn’t a one time ‘knowing.’ It isn’t a, “Now you know, so go have fun with life.” This is life: to be still, and know. We do not guard our own heart and mind from hurt, hope, loneliness, frustration, doubt. We do not enlighten our soul through our own effort. Our futile attempts at controlling ‘my’ life rupture the communication between our soul and our Savior, inhibiting His work in our lives. And we crash and burn.

Today I sought God’s presence within the serenity of His beautiful creation. My soul cried out to Him, and He answered. Just as I looked over my shoulder at my progress up Drinking Horse Mountain, so also I surveyed my spiritual journey. We are not to dwell morosely on the past, but memory provides perspective on how far God has brought us – and encouragement that if He can bring us thus far, how much farther He will lead us yet!