When The Future Seems Uncertain…
God’s Word speaks thoroughly and abundantly into every season of the heart. As we study His Word, we learn that within its pages are found the ultimate source of comfort and peace for the sufferer. In this series, we will seek to carefully and compassionately apply these ancient, scriptural truths to feelings and experiences that are common in grief.
There are times in life when we can really identify with the Israelites in the Bible, particularly as they trod day after day through the endless desert of their forty-year wilderness trek. Think of their rugged route, mile after mile, with the abrasive rub of the sand in their sandals and their aimless wandering with no end in sight.
We may never find ourselves trudging a literal wilderness, but sometimes life feels as desperate. I felt this way during my years of infertility. In recent years, I have watched and walked closely with my two best friends as they’ve experienced poignant suffering and loss. I feel it in the day to day struggle with the effects of severe ADHD on my darling daughter. Can you relate? Maybe it’s the daily battle for hope as you struggle with infertility like I did and hold yet another negative pregnancy test. Or perhaps your day to day life is a vicious cycle of grief and weeping for the loss of your unborn baby and the hopes and dreams you lost. Or maybe you spend sleepless nights remembering and longing for the precious days you had with your child, only to have them abruptly brought to an earthly end.
Whatever your grief looks like, we all need something to revive our grief-scorched hearts? What can bring refreshment to our dying thirst and parched lips? What can we do when we are in these desert places?
Remember.
It’s as simple as that. We remember. We serve a kind, merciful Father who knows that sometimes we lack the strength to even open His Word or string words together to form a prayer in our darkest moments. He knows that we are but dust. In your waiting, your grief, your agony, listen to the gentle whisper to remember.
Lamentations 3 begins with the testimony of a man who is in a desert wilderness. He says of himself, “I am the man who has seen affliction under the rod of His wrath; He has driven and brought me into darkness without any light;surely against me He turns His hand again and again the whole day long. […] He has made my teeth grind on gravel, and made me cower in ashes; my soul is bereft of peace; I have forgotten what happinessis; so I say, “My endurance has perished; so has my hope from the LORD” (Lamentations 3:1-3, 16-18).
Truer words could not be spoken for the raw moments of inextinguishable grief. And yet, just a few verses later, this sorrowful mourner wrote, “But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;His mercies never come to an end; they are newevery morning; great is your faithfulness. “The LORD is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in Him.” (Lamentations 3:21-24).
I love that phrase, “But this I call to mind.” Remembering the Lord’s past mercies can be a sweet balm for our wounded and blistered hearts as we stumble through our personal wildernesses. Like the writer from Lamentations, we remember we have hope because great is His faithfulness. This verse was one I clung to with all my strength during my years of unanswered prayers for a child and during my first miscarriage. When I couldn’t see the future, and my soul was in anguish, these words reminded me again and again that my God was faithful, and each morning He would give me grace to hope in Him.
All throughout the Old Testament, the Lord told the Israelites to remember His past deeds on their behalf in bringing them out of their slavery in Egypt. The Israelites had witnessed the plagues God poured upon Egypt. They had seen God open the Red Sea for them to cross through. They saw the pillar of fire and cloud. They had eaten manna from heaven and seen dry rocks spew forth water they desperately craved. Their physical eyes had seen these wonders, and yet they still had to be reminded. If they needed these constant exhortations to remember the faithfulness of God, how much more do we, who live by faith and not by sight?
If you open your Bible to the bountiful book of Psalms and take a cursory scan, you’ll find that it too is full of encouragement to remember the faithful deeds of the Lord and His unchanging character.
“I will remember the deeds of the LORD; yes, I will remember your wonders of old.” Psalm 77:11
“Remember the wondrous works that He has done, His miracles, and the judgments He uttered.” Psalm 105:5
Many times over the years, I have compiled verses such as these to have in the forefront of my mind as I’ve fought the blinding glare of difficulty. They are way posts for me to remind me that God has never left me. Can you remember a time in your own desert wasteland when you experienced the Lord’s nearness? Do you remember feeling His comfort and presence in a trouble of the past? Did He ever forsake you? Were you ever truly abandoned? Remembering His faithfulness is the shade we need from the searing heat of our trials.
My family recently started watching Bear Grylls’ Man vs. Wild show during our holiday break. When Bear has had to find his way through a desert, he must not only survive the infernal temperatures of daytime, but the bone-chilling temperature drop of the nighttime cold. The cold can be just as dangerous as the heat and making a proper fire can be the difference between life and death in the desert.
My husband was recently reminding the kids about the three things you need to start a fire: tinder, kindling and fuel. If you have these three things, you can create a blaze that will warm and protect you even in the darkest, coldest nights in the desert. I was thinking how this translates to the life-saving blaze we need in the harsh darkness and cold of a desert night of the soul. Remembering the faithfulness of our God is the tinder that sparks hope when our hearts are exhausted with grief. As the sparks light upon the kindling of hope, faith is the fuel that helps us open the Bible and talk to God. It might be timid faith, tired faith, faltering faith. But remember what Jesus says: faith as tiny as a mustard seed is pleasing to Him. And the more remembering, the more hopeful. The more hopeful, the more filled with faith. And with time, the fire will blaze.
I love this exhortation from Charles Spurgeon to remember God’s faithfulness in our wildernesses. He writes, “Remember what He did in the days of old, in the former generations. Remember how He spake and it was done; how He commanded, and it stood fast. Shall He that created the world grow weary? He hangeth the world upon nothing; shall He who doth this be unable to support His children? Shall He be unfaithful to His word for want of power? Who is it that restrains the tempest? Doth not He ride upon the wings of the wind, and make the clouds His chariots, and hold the ocean in the hollow of His hand? How can He fail thee? When He has put such a faithful promise as this on record, wilt thou for a moment indulge the thought that He has out-promised Himself, and gone beyond His powers to fulfil? Ah, no! Thou canst doubt no longer. O thou who art my God and my strength, I can believe that this promise shall be fulfilled, for the boundless reservoir of thy grace can never be exhausted, and the overflowing storehouse of thy strength can never be emptied by thy friends or rifled by thy enemies” (Morning & Evening, 12/22 AM).
The writer of Hebrews says of the Israelites and the other men and women of faith listed in this chapter, “And all these, though commended through their faith, did not receive what was promised, since God had provided something better for us, that apart from us they should not be made perfect.”
We have something better—Jesus. We have the living water that satisfies every thirst. We have the shade of the cross under which we see proof of God’s eternal love and satisfaction because of Jesus’ death for our sins. Yes, we are pilgrims here, journeying through this often desolate land, but we have the Good Shepherd who promises to never leave or forsake us. And He gently reminds us to remember who He is, what He has done, and what He says, especially when our circumstances would tell us otherwise. And as we choose to do so, He will fan the flame of hope and give us faith to move forward one dusty, sandy step at a time.
- Lauren
Hope Mom to Baby Rohwer
Lauren is an undeserving and grateful follower of Jesus, wife to her beloved Paul, adoptive and biological mom of four (+ 1 glory baby), suburban housewife turned farmer’s wife and COO of her family’s farming enterprise. She’s currently homeschooling three of her children and in her free time loves to read, write, and hang with her girlfriends.
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