This past week, Mom and Dad moved my older brother, Connor, into college six hours away from home. Grandma came to stay with the rest of us from Wednesday morning to Thursday night. We tried to keep busy, but still the days seemed long. And stressful. When at last Mom and Dad returned home without Connor, life as we knew it changed big time. Wherever we turn, there’s a reminder of our one missing member of the family.
Mom cried when she cleaned the pantry and pulled out the box of popcorn (a favorite snack food for Connor). I was doing okay with suppressing my emotions until he sent us a picture of the “movie night” they were having on campus. That’s when it really hit me. Connor and I had always done so much together, and now we won’t be sharing any more schoolbooks or sitting down to watch TV or riding our bikes or going swimming together. All our political discussions and the hard times we threw at one another as only siblings could do have ended for a season. It feels like it happened suddenly, no matter how much we planned or packed or prepared.
On top of dealing with that, I was registered to start dual enrollment college classes on Monday of this week (8/23), and unexpectedly I got an email from the university telling me I had a deadline (Sunday, 8/22) to complete orientation and take several quizzes, none of which I’d done yet (or was even aware I had to do). I’m a planner, so when something like this hits me out of the blue, I get flustered. It didn’t help that it took me at least two hours to catch up on the work.
Still feeling discouraged and attempting to find a wave of calm in the sea of unknowns, I popped in my earbuds and devoted some time to a task I generally tended to enjoy. Meanwhile, the contemporary Christian songs on my Pandora station perked up my spirits and helped keep me focused, and for the moment I felt happy. But then—you guessed it—that, too, eventually got messed up, and with it the tiny shard of comfort I didn’t even realize I was clinging to.
I was left facing the all-too conversant question: “Now what?”
Pastor Noll in his message on Sunday dwelt on the point of making God our Help, Strength, and Comfort. Everything or everyone else may fulfil for a little while, but only God can satisfy us for all eternity. No matter who you are or what you’ve done, His fatherly care extends to each one of us as long as we’ve accepted His gift of salvation into our lives.
Sometimes, though, we feel distant from God, like orphans searching for a solace but not knowing exactly where to turn. His signs can be all around us, and yet our hearts are hardened so that we don’t acknowledge them as we should. In her fear and desperation, the widow in 2 Kings 4:1-7 cried out, “Save me, for my sons are about to be sold into slavery.” You and I, on the other hand, can find ourselves pleading, “Save me, for my soul is succumbing to doubt.”
Our God is a tender, patient, and loving God who can bear the brunt of all we’re going through. As the psalmist penned in Psalm 73:21-23, “When my soul was embittered, when I was pricked in heart, I was brutish and ignorant; I was like a beast toward you. Nevertheless, I am continually with You; You hold my right hand.” (emphasis mine)
How thankful I am to have this promise! I mess up in my Christian walk more often than I would care to admit and have to constantly be reminded that, despite my feelings, absolutely nothing can separate me from Christ (Romans 8:38-39). Paul assures us in Ephesians 2:13 that those who were once far off have been brought near by Jesus’s blood. This is by no human exertion or will, but only by God’s great grace.
While still on this earth, however, we’re apt to search for contentment elsewhere. Maybe in a relationship or a hobby. In and of itself, these things aren’t harmful, but they can be if God lays it on our hearts that we’re making too much of them.
My family recently adopted a super sweet kitten named Juniper. She’s our first household pet since our bird, Blue, died two years ago. We greatly enjoy engaging with her in play or cuddling her on our laps. Some of the kids’ favorite way to entertain her is with a laser. They shine the tiny green light at the floor, then swirl it in circles, then point it up the stairs or at the door or walls. Juniper chases after it (and sometimes gets it on top of her paw) but doesn’t get anything out of it except exhaustion. Trouble is, she doesn’t even realize the laser is not what it appears. It has no substance.
Aren’t there times when we act similarly? We who have been set free by Christ’s death on the cross can so easily become entrapped once again in the snares of this world, pursuing its “lasers” and coming up empty. It happens so seamlessly, sometimes we’re not even aware of it. It is only by continuous communion with Christ that we can be on our guard against the sinful desires of our flesh (Psalm 119:9).
Are you looking for true contentment and peace today? Do you feel far off from Christ? Rest assured, the hope we have in Jesus anchors our souls (Hebrews 6:19). We may feel like we’re drifting, but Christ’s blood will always hold us fast. I urge you to let go of whatever empty thing you may be clutching and turn to Him. Even now, He’s inviting you in, asking, “What shall I do for you?” (2 Kings 4:2)
God’s plan for your life and mine is perfect. His foolishness is wiser than man, and His weakness is stronger than man (1 Corinthians 1:25).
Image: Mom, Dad, and Connor on move-in day at Grove City College