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Wrestling With God in Our Suffering

JULIANNE ATKINSON |GUEST As soon as I saw the area code of the phone call my husband was receiving, I knew something was off. I was pregnant with our first child and set to move for his job to Nashville, TN at the beginning of my third trimester. This was a city I had friends in, I knew there were good churches there, and it was a city we both liked. After a short conversation, my husband conveyed the news that there was a post they hadn’t accounted for in rural, northern New York state and he was now at the top of the list to take it. I was disappointed, but it wasn’t my first move and I hoped that God would have a good church and community there waiting when we arrived. Instead, I found a desolate place I never grew to love. I had left a large church in San Antonio where I was on staff and knew and loved each family and their kids by name. In New York, there were a  handful of families hoping for a PCA pastor to come and pastor them. Church members brought meals when I had my son, but it felt more like they were checking off a box than done so out of friendship. I gathered the women of the church and started a Bible study in hopes of fostering fellowship as we studied God’s Word together. I ended up spending the study time preventing my son from climbing sky high, getting into people’s desks, and drinking bathroom chemicals. My husband worked long hours, weekends, and sometimes over an hour away. I was more lonely than I was during the Covid lockdown. It seemed like every hope I had for our move was dashed. The depths of disappointment I felt contrasted with the hope of change and led me to wrestle with God through it. Here my head-knowledge intersected with my very real and difficult circumstances. Were my toes digging into a sandy beach as the storm swirled around me or were they resting on the solid rock of the foundation of God’s promises? If everything around me fell down, I knew He would not.  As believers, sometimes we suffer pain and loss so deep that we come to a crossroads in our relationship with God and who he is. Some might respond to that pain as though with a finger in his face saying, “How could GOD do this to ME?” Our hearts are hardened. We feel bitter. We struggle to forgive God. And we turn and run FROM him. Others might ask the same question, but with trust in God’s faithfulness to his promises—that he really is who he says he is. “How COULD God do this to me?” In that moment, we run TO Him and His Word. As we wrestle with his Word, we will find rest in the midst of our pain and rock under our feet...

Wrestling With God in Our Suffering2025-01-08T18:35:45+00:00

Celebrating Christmas with Hope

BETHANY BELUE | CONTRIBUTOR Christmas is my favorite season with children, with all the lights, decorated yards, Christmas festivities, and the awe they experience as they soak in each fun holiday activity.  It’s a sweet time of joy and celebration and I make every effort to enjoy each moment with them and let go of my stress and anxiety that sits just below the surface. That’s because, in the midst of all the celebrations and joy, the hard parts of this life still exist. In my community, there are broken relationships, marriage hardships, the first Christmas without a parent, another Christmas with empty arms, and the longing to celebrate this holiday with a spouse. The pain I see all around me is real and deep, and yet Christmas is coming. All those sorrows will not disappear in the middle of feasts and festivities. I often wonder what it looks like to hold both joy and sorrow as we approach this special holiday.  During a recent conversation with a friend, I was reminded of something Tim Keller said while I sat under his teaching, “Christmas means that you will never be alone.” I remember that season of life when I heard those words and how they filled my heart with peace. No matter what my life may look like, no matter what sorrows I’m sitting in, or unmet desires I’m waiting for, I am not alone. Jesus was born so that I may never be alone...  

Celebrating Christmas with Hope2024-12-05T15:02:53+00:00

The Good Portion of Christmas

MEAGHAN MAY | CONTRIBUTOR As a child, I was fascinated by the tiny nativity set at my grandmother’s home. These little figures told me a big story. But as an adult, I ponder if these sets are realistic.  Mary is fresh-faced, neatly pressed, and beautifully dressed. She doesn’t seem uncomfortable with her flapping stomach after her recent labor. The baby Jesus is giggling while placed in the animals’ snack bowl and dear Joseph doesn’t seem overwhelmed by the task of caring for his betrothed and new child. Does the pristine nativity scene set unrealistic expectations for our own celebrations? I have found that some of my own Christmases have been more of a mess than they have been merry. Each Christmas I have a list of key elements that I think, if I can just pull all this together, we will have a Merry Christmas. But I can tell a lot about what I long for at Christmas when I start to name what I am worried about. I am tempted to think that because things have gone awry, God is holding out on me. I fail to consider that God is offering me something more than what I am requesting....

The Good Portion of Christmas2024-11-22T16:44:40+00:00

Daring to Hope

ALICE KIM | CONTRIBUTOR At the end of Mark chapter one (vv. 40-45), we are introduced to a man plagued with leprosy. He lived his life as a public service announcement warning people to keep their distance lest they become like him. His inescapable daily reminder of a scorned, forgotten, and marginalized existence would be humiliating and painful enough to make anyone cower. Nevertheless, as Jesus’ public ministry to the ill and demonically tormented was widespread, he found himself at a crossroad between deferring hope or desiring for something more (Pr. 13:12). He courageously chose the latter. Notably, the narrative seems to slow down as the man approaches Jesus and kneels before him. It’s as if Mark leans in and personally invites readers to do likewise. A hope long buried was suddenly resurrected. Although awakening hope would be risky, to the point of vulnerability to greater ridicule, isolation, and judgment, the cost of doing nothing could potentially haunt him with unrelenting regrets filled with what-if’s. His lowly posture embodies his desperate plea. It exudes the depth of anguish, indescribable affliction, and utter shame. His confession, “If you will, you can make me clean” carries the heaviness of helplessness and dependence...

Daring to Hope2024-10-31T18:09:11+00:00

The Gift of Crisis

LYNNE RIENSTRA | GUEST I was at our denomination’s General Assembly when I received the call from my radiologist: “Mrs. Rienstra, your tests reveal that you have breast cancer.” Fast forward to six weeks later. As my husband was driving me home from the surgery that removed my cancer, a car ran a stop sign and slammed into us, right in front of where I was sitting. Within minutes I found myself in an ambulance on my way to yet another hospital.  Crisis. It’s the gift none of us wants. Because when crisis comes, it broadsides us. It reminds us that in spite of our best efforts, we are ultimately out of control. Crisis exposes us as those who are in deep need and unable to help ourselves. It causes us to cry out to God. But what if at that very point, crisis turned out to be a gift? Crisis Reveals More of God to Us When crisis hit the family of Mary and Martha of Bethany (John 11:1-44), they never dreamed that embedded in the sickness of their brother Lazarus was the extraordinary opportunity to experience Jesus in a whole new way. The sisters knew two things: Jesus loved them and their brother (vv. 3; 5), and Jesus had the power to heal. So, when their brother Lazarus fell ill, they did what any of us would have done: they asked Jesus for help. Having sent for Jesus, the sisters expected to see Him arrive quickly and save the day. Only He didn’t. One day passed, and Lazarus worsened. Another day passed, and their worst fears were realized. Lazarus died. Lazarus was buried. And still no sign of Jesus…. When Jesus finally did come, Martha ran out to meet Him, saying, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died” (v. 21). With Lazarus’s body decaying in a nearby tomb, Jesus made the stunning revelation that He is “resurrection and the life” (v. 25). And in faith-filled response, Martha proclaimed, “Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God…” (v. 27). Here’s my question: Would this essential truth have been revealed to Martha apart from the wrenching loss of her brother? Let’s also consider her sister, Mary, still back at the house, suffering in deep grief. This is the Mary whom Jesus had invited to sit at His feet. She had chosen the better part. Mary knew Jesus loved her and her brother. But the crisis of Lazarus’s death may have caused her to wonder (as we often do in our own crises): “Why didn’t Jesus come? I thought I knew Him. I must have lost His love.”...

The Gift of Crisis2024-10-02T15:02:46+00:00

One Voice, One Hope

JESSICA ROAN | GUEST For one night, a few times a year, a shabby 60-year-old auditorium stage is transformed into a magical scene where a group of ragtag students from all nationalities, academic levels, and socioeconomic groups come together  to make beautiful music. As a public school teacher and a parent of students in the school in which I teach, my emotions always run high at school music concerts. Unlike many  in the audience, I know how truly remarkable this moment is. I know that on this night the valedictorian, the child with a math disability, the outcast, the orphan, and a student from one of the most prominent families in town will come together as one. Thanks to the school’s affordable rental program for instruments and even suit jackets and dresses, the ground is even on that stage. All of the drastic differences in finances and home situations vanish when the director raises her hand and the members play Vivaldi as one.  Just like the students in my school, we live in a divided world. It doesn’t take much for us to take sides against one another. Topics surrounding politics, what we read in the news, theological differences, and even how we raise our children can divide us in a heartbeat. Yet, just like a myriad of violins, violas, cellos, and basses in the hands of teenagers from diverse experiences and backgrounds can come together in miraculous harmony, so too can we as God’s children voice Christ’s anthem.  We Have the Same Creed With the release of the remake of Rich Mullin’s “I Believe What I Believe,” I was led to 1 Corinthians 15, what some might call Paul’s own Apostle’s Creed. We all need a reminder of what it is we believe in—what we place our hope in. We live in a tumultuous world. People are confused about what is true and right. In such times, believers can join together and speak of who Christ is. We can point others to these unchanging truths—truths that provide real hope to a world that is lost.   Paul tells the Corinthians “Now I would remind you, brothers, of the gospel I preached to you, which you received, in which you stand, and by which you are being saved, if you hold fast to the word I preached to you—unless you believed in vain” (1 Cor. 15:1-2). What is this gospel?  Christ’s perfect life, sacrificial death, burial, and resurrection (1 Cor. 15:3-8). Paul is careful to point out that this set of beliefs is true despite who relays the message. With some claiming to follow Paul or Apollos in 1 Corinthians 3, Paul is careful to say, “Whether then it was I or they, so we preach and so you believed” (1 Cor. 15:11).   Causes abound in today’s world. Many issues compete for our attention. Now, more than ever, it is time to do as Paul did and vow to “know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Cor. 2:1-3).... 

One Voice, One Hope2024-09-27T18:49:03+00:00

Hope in Hindsight: Navigating Unexpected Journeys

KIM BARNES | CONTRIBUTOR Have you ever felt like your life was heading in a clear direction, only to have things take a sharp turn? Maybe you felt called to a new job or ministry, only to have it fall apart. Perhaps you envisioned your empty nest years filled with one thing, but reality brought something entirely different. A little over five years ago, my husband and I felt confident that God was calling us to a new place and ministry. It was a significant change, and there was trepidation as we embarked on this journey. However, the path seemed wide and clear, and we sensed God’s leading. So, we set off for my husband to pastor a church 800 miles away from Central Florida, where I had spent most of my life. We embraced our new home and hoped that we’d spend the next couple of decades serving this church and community that we quickly grew to love. That’s not what happened. My husband lost his job after two years. It was a gut-punch, and we were devastated. A path that initially seemed so welcoming, one that we thought would lead to joy and life-giving ministry, became a road filled with grief, betrayal, and despair. Along the way, we saw God’s hand at work, nevertheless it was a season where we questioned God’s calling on our lives and felt uncertainty about the future. Life wasn’t turning out the way I thought it would. The Bible is filled with stories where journeys lead to unexpected places...

Hope in Hindsight: Navigating Unexpected Journeys2024-07-26T14:16:29+00:00

A Time to Wait

ALICE KIM | CONTRIBUTOR As the author of Ecclesiastes emphasizes, there is a time for everything. A time to usher in life’s new chapter with clarity, confidence, and joy. A time when taking the next step is not marked by stifling “what if’s.” There’s also a time for deliberate pauses and periods of prolonged waiting. There is space in an otherwise fast-paced frenzy for stillness and contemplation, whether by choice or circumstance. In this current season, I identify with the latter and to be honest, I feel conflicted between trust and anxiety. Somedays are characterized by greater peace and reassurance in God's goodness; while other days, the uncertain horizon feels like a nightmare trapped in my mind. However, what comforts me is knowing that the Bible is littered with story lines of waiting. I am not alone. More so, waiting is not captive to happenstance, but is intentional. We see this in the very beginning. Adam was acquainted with loneliness before he knew intimacy. Waiting revealed his inherent need and longing as part of the process of discovering that his Maker alone fully satisfies. From the life of Joseph, the sweetness of forgiveness and reconciliation is delayed a decade or more. The painful years that ultimately led to an unlikely heartfelt family reunion were marked by grief, abandonment, betrayal, envy, and mistreatment and yet, he grew in perseverance and faith. Fast forward to the fateful event of Good Friday, when heaven and earth held their breath....

A Time to Wait2024-07-22T14:22:14+00:00

A Backwards Birth Into Heaven

SUSAN TYNER | CONTRIBUTOR I watched my Daddy be born into Heaven today. We were all around him as he lay dying in his bed at home. I squeezed his hand on one side while Mama grasped the other, my sister balancing on the mattress at his head while my brother held his feet. With our spouses and his many grandchildren crowded around, we sat with him one more time in his bedroom. We were no strangers to this room—there for about fifty years we had yelled at Ole Miss football games on the TV, nursed coffee during early morning talks, climbed into the warm covers while he read his Bible in a close by chair, even played tic-tac-toe in lotion on his back. Decades of normal breathing and living. And so, it was a blessing that when he needed to die, we could be in that familiar-made-sacred space together. I never saw someone die before, and it’s amazing how the human body will struggle to stay alive. We held our breaths as we counted his. He would pause breathing and we would look at each other, is this it? only to see him gasp air again. This happened so many times that once we laughed because it got comical for such a heavy moment—or maybe we just needed to release a tension we were not used to holding for so long. The hospice staff told us he could hear us even though he couldn’t respond, and Daddy proved them right when he squeezed Mama’s hand, responding that he loved her. His clavicle strained just like my little boy’s did when he had croup. We felt his pulse slow, lagging only a little behind his breath. At some point we attempted to comfort him by reciting Psalm 23 as a group. I think we added thirty minutes to his life because we flubbed it so bad my mom had to take over like the school teacher she is. Again, we laughed. How terrible for Daddy to hear us collectively fail a basic test when he had invested his adult life teaching us the Bible. Here we had been telling him to go and not worry about us and he’s lying there thinking, WHAT? My kids can’t even remember The Lord is My Shepherd?? What kind of shape am I leaving them in? Then, although we knew he was leaving, it was weird when in one moment after midnight, he did not catch his breath. Suddenly, he was gone. And, we did not feel like laughing anymore but going to our corners of the house to be quiet and do whatever one does after watching your role model leave your world. What seemed like only moments later, the funeral home is on site, desecrating our sacred bedroom. As I fill out paperwork, the hospice nurse tells me that Daddy, who practiced medicine for the hospice company, actually had worked earlier that week for them. I shouldn’t have been surprised. He pushed and tackled cancer’s pain the way he played linebacker at Bentonia High School. Whether it was football, medicine, church, or a good Mississippi snow day, Will Thompson left it all on the field. Why would his death week be any different? I see them put Daddy’s body in a plastic bag. As a doctor, he saw death a lot and this scene would not shock him. I did not know at the time it was shocking me. I assumed my head knowledge that he was in a better place would inoculate me from shock—that the theology I had been taught would cushion the impact grief causes....

A Backwards Birth Into Heaven2024-05-31T15:52:57+00:00

Terribly Beautiful

LAURA PATTERSON | GUEST “Mom, why did I have a brain injury?” The dinner-table inquiry of my eight-year-old hit me like a ton of bricks. The heaviness wasn’t due to the novelty of the question but to its repetition. The ‘why’ has become a recurrent question for a child who is becoming increasingly aware of his differences. And the question is one that necessitates answers that come in deepening layers over the years. My son knows that he has cerebral palsy. He knows it was caused by damage to his brain. And he knows a developmentally appropriate medical explanation for what happened in my pregnancy and his earliest days of life. Yet his question still remains: why? The conversation around the dinner table labored on as my husband and I both grappled out loud, before our children, with what we know of the God in whom we profess faith. Of his sovereignty. Of His good purposes. Of the glory He can receive in all things. Answering Hard Questions Our ten-year-old, listening and processing from the seat to my left, interrupted, “…but why would God’s plan include something bad?” It’s easier to talk about suffering and disability when it isn’t sitting right next to me. But it’s another thing to apply what I know to be true in the very present reality of pain, tears, weariness, and grief. In that holy moment around the dinner table, the heart of what we could share with our three boys is that we really don’t know why God does all that He does. We don’t know why God has seen fit for life to include unending therapy appointments, specialist doctor visits, special education, surgery, orthotics, and the list could go on...

Terribly Beautiful2024-05-01T15:55:05+00:00
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