I love when something comes together.
Like puzzle pieces slotting in place or those moments in movies where all hope seems lost until suddenly, everyone comes together to fight for the light; for the good; for the victory. I love those epic battle scenes where the characters give their last little bit of tenacity right before the end. When stories hit that climax where the tides turn one last time and we wait to see who comes out on top. Good or evil? Light or Darkness? And the light always wins. I live for the rush of it all and I especially love when you can look back on a story or a film and see how every choice was purposeful. A strategic storytelling, that’s my favorite.
So, it’s no wonder I fell in love with the author of creation because He’s THE expert in how all things come together to serve a greater purpose. But, to tell you the truth, as much as I love watching those stories play out on the big screen or reading them in a novel, I never really considered (at least not deeply enough) just how awful it is to live in the space before it all comes together.
See, we love a good Daniel in the lion’s den, Moses at the red sea, Lazarus “come forth” moment and we often, when reading these stories, feel bolstered in our faith. We look at them and learn from their failures and their triumphs. We absorb the lessons and take them to heart but rarely do we recognize the unbearable trauma unfolding in the lives of these people as their miracles come to fruition. Too familiar with our biblical figures to catch the true humanity of them written in between the lines of our devotionals.
So lately, I’ve been taking a look at these stories with a different kind of faith mentality. Having endured my own brand of suffering in excess for such a long period of time. I’ve been thinking more deeply about what it really was like for Daniel to sit in a lion’s den overnight because the miracle that we know and love, probably didn’t feel like much of a miracle for him until after the fact. It most likely was a whole lot of sweat and fear for Daniel. Sitting there knowing that God is fully capable of rescuing him but not really knowing what the outcome of the situation would be. Facing what seems to be an inevitable death.
I mean sure, when Daniel walked into that den, the lions didn’t immediately attack him but he sat there for hours with predators breathing down his neck. At any given moment, things could’ve changed, they could’ve leapt out of the darkness and ripped him apart. Truly, God was the only one standing between him and what would be a gruesome death.
We know, of course, that God is the best person to stand between us and anything that comes against us but still, when you’re staring down a hungry lion in their territory, it’s more than scary. Or how about when you’re fleeing from 400 years of slavery, generational trauma and complacency and it starts chasing you? One second you’re living in this blessing of freedom, taking with you more than you ever could’ve imagined and walking away from a broken normal into a promised land. Only to be surrounded, with an impenetrable obstacle in front of you and an angry army behind you hell bent on your destruction. I’m sure it felt like, “wow, did we just walk a few miles to die? What was the point of this?” for the Israelites. I’m sure it was terrifying being surrounded by death with nowhere in sight to go. Death by drowning or death by Egyptian? What a buffet of deaths to choose from. I’m sure Moses too, felt the weight of thousands of lives on his shoulders as he looked ahead and behind, probably in confusion and fear as much as faith. Oh and let’s not forget our brother Lazarus who actually died! He was sick and he didn’t get better, he got worse and then he died. Dead. In a tomb. Gone from this world completely. Can you even fathom that because I can’t? We know there was a miracle after the fact but Lazurus didn’t know that while he was fighting for his life and his sisters sent for Jesus saying, “Lord, the one whom you love is sick”. He didn’t know that when they sent word to the healer on his behalf who had been going around performing miracles only for Jesus to tarry too long on his. Lazarus had no earthly clue there was a miracle at work when he took his last wheezing breath. His family didn’t know that either, they were grieving the loss when Jesus showed up. Days later.
These miracles we admire so much were painstakingly wrung from the very real lives of these people, like one twists and twists a wet rag until it leaks. These blessings didn’t come easily or nicely or pleasurably. None of these people stumbled into their miracles nonchalantly and all of it was uncertain, none of it was guaranteed, just hoped for and trusted in. Daniel hoped for salvation and protection but the miracle of what happened that day wasn’t something God told Daniel would happen. He didn’t say to Daniel, “Okay, here’s how this is going to go down. These people are going to betray and report you, then throw you into that lion’s den right over there. But don’t worry because I’m going to keep the lions nice and tame and away from you. The king will obviously realize his mistake and when they open up the gates in the morning, you jump out and shout, ‘Surprise, I’m alive! God saved me!’”. That’s not what happened, though I’m sure Daniel would agree, a little play-by-play would have been nice.
Truly, the space between all hell breaking loose and all of heaven breaking through, is rife with tension and pain. It is literally the worst place to find yourself and yet, so many of us do. We find ourselves in the midst of immense suffering, looking out at an uncertain future, hoping and praying that God will come through for us in the way we need. Trying our best to trust Him with our lives and our dreams, while we wait. While we sit in the darkness, holding our breath as hungry eyes catalog our movements from afar. While we feel trapped in our circumstances, seeing absolutely no way out, terrified that we made a mistake and it’s going to cost us everything. We try our best to have faith in God’s promises, in His healing touch and in His provision, as we stare down the barrel of worst case scenarios and our bodies seem to fail us at every turn. This isn’t the place for cozy, warm and fuzzy faith. This is “life and death” kind of faith. “I have no choice” kind of faith. This is, “God is going to come through, or I’m going to get run through” kind of faith. This is “do you feel the heat of that furnace burning through your lungs right now, as they push you into it?” kind of faith. It’s the kind that is wrung from your soul in weeping and anxiety. Like so many of David’s psalms. It’s the “please don’t forsake me because you’re my only hope” kind of faith that nobody else will ever understand unless they’ve lived through it too. It’s the “of dens and of furnaces” kind of faith that makes you sweat blood from your pores.
And like Jesus knew, I know that God’s plan is perfect and that one day, it will all come together but even Jesus asked to be spared this cup of suffering. Even the God-man Himself prayed and cried out in agony. And He had a guarantee! He knew what the outcome would be, that He would rise on the third day. It was prophesied by many before Him, not to mention written on His heart in the truth of His purpose. He knew He would win and in the end it would all come together for His good and God’s glory and yet…He was still scared.
I don’t know who lied to me and convinced me that miracles were these magical experiences, like a sprinkling of pixie dust over your sorrows or the wave of a wand over broken bones. I don’t know where I learned that from because Biblically speaking it’s just not the truth. Miracles ARE extraordinary and there IS a “suddenly” “all at once” motion to them but there is so much more to them then that. So much space between the circumstance and the “suddenly”. I’ve learned that; endured that, over the past six years. Sitting in the space between, rife with tension, wondering when it will be my turn? Will it ever be? Will God come through for me in the way I need Him too? I know He is fully capable, I believe He can do it but will He? And what does that miracle even look like for me? Where will it come from?
So much of my time is spent struggling with my own uncertainty and fear. Knowing that only God can rescue me from this situation, from this sickness. Only His healing hands can touch this pain and do away with it. And if I’m being honest with you, it is terrifying when things are so out of your control and really, out of anyone’s control, that the only person who can move in your life in any meaningful sort of way is God. Especially because there are moments where I question God’s existence and His love for me entirely, even knowing the truth of Him a billion times over. Not because I truly don’t believe He exists but it’s those little nagging doubts and questions that come for you in the silence, after another door slams shut in your face. “Maybe your faith is baseless” “Maybe you’re wrong and God didn’t say any of what you’re believing Him for” “Maybe God is waiting on you to do something and you’re just not getting it” “Maybe God has a greater purpose than you in this situation and you will never be healed because your sickness serves a greater good” “Maybe God will get His glory from your death and the testimony you leave behind, not the life you hope to live” “Maybe this is all you get and your life is almost done” “Maybe God just doesn’t exist” “Maybe you’re all alone with no way out” and so on and so forth. I can’t tell you how many times over the past couple of months I have wept in confusion and fear of disappointment. How many times I have felt so incredibly lost, without the words to even describe it to anyone. I have felt defeated even before the battle is over, looking out at what I’m up against and not seeing the help from on high that I desperately need. I have felt like Bilbo Baggins in “The battle of the five armies”, so very small and so completely surrounded by larger than life darkness succeeding at pushing its way in. Like Aragorn in “The Two Towers” looking out over the battlefield seeing defeat as imminent and knowing this is the last stand. This is the end of us, we’re going down swinging but still…we’re going down. Like Captain America in “EndGame”, pulling the strap of his shield tightly over his torn ligaments and standing back up after an epic beat down. Refusing to give up or back down even knowing it’s about to cost him his life, one man standing against an armed host.
But you know what I love about that part of the story? When it seemed all hope was lost and there was no possible way they could win. When the blood dripped and sweat through their pores and they looked around and realized there was no way out of this. When the fear and panic seized their throat because their best laid plans didn’t work. Something gave way. In Avengers: Endgame, you hear the crackle of his inner ear radio and Sam’s voice saying, “On your left” before hundreds of heroes portal their way into the fray, ready to fight beside him. In the Lord of the Rings, you hear a voiceover of Gandalf telling Aragorn, “At dawn, look to the east” and suddenly…there on the hill light breaks forth, the Riders of Rohan led by Gandalf come riding into battle and the tides turn. In “The Hobbit” the eagles come swooping in from on high.
So, even though right now, I feel afraid and defeated and broken by my circumstances, I am reminded to lift my eyes to the hills, for that is where my help comes from. I am reminded that I love and trust and belong to the God of miracles, who said He is working it together for my good and His glory. There is an author behind my story and it isn’t over until He says, “the end”. No matter what tries to rise up against me, no matter what tries to destroy my hope or crowd out my little light or crush me into dust, it’s not over yet. And though, it may not feel like it at the moment, this is actually my favorite part of the story, the part I live for. The part where everyone and everything comes together at the turning of the tides. Where good triumphs over evil, where light breaks through, where suddenly everything starts making sense. All the subplots and side journeys intertwining into one epic conclusion. All the threads of this tapestry meeting and entangling in glorious detail, displaying its intentional and unique design.
This is our favorite part.
We just didn’t recognize it because it came to us reeking of darkness and defeat. It wasn’t familiar to us because it felt like a crumbling and a humbling instead of what we thought victory would feel like. Like pieces we can’t quite make fit. We didn’t comprehend this because we’ve never lived in a moment like it before. Because we’re used to seeing this play out in other’s lives and reflecting on it in hindsight, after the win; after the testimony. But this is it. This is what a miracle feels like. Dirt and Ash and Blood and Sweat and Tears and then…suddenly!
Psalm 18:16-19
He sent from on high, he took me; he drew me out of many waters. He rescued me from my strong enemy and from those who hated me, for they were too mighty for me. They confronted me in the day of my calamity, but the Lord was my support. He brought me out into a broad place; he rescued me, because he delighted in me.
Psalm 34:19
Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all.
Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers
“At Dawn, Look to the East” Scene
Avengers: Endgame
“On your left” Scene
It’s All Coming Together!
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