“True faith is not only a knowledge and conviction that everything God reveals in His word is true; it is also a deep-rooted assurance, created in me by the Holy Spirit through the gospel that, out of sheer grace earned for us by Christ, not only for others, but I too, have had my sins forgiven, have been made forever right with God, and have been granted salvation.” Heidelberg Catechism, Question 21 (DeYoung 2010)
“May the God of hope fill you with joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.” Romans 15:13
“I’m hoping for the best.”
“That’s a good place to be – way better than hoping for the worst.”
So went part of a conversation I had with a good friend yesterday about the shoulder surgery I will undergo tomorrow.
I guffawed. It was so funny what he said. I mean, yeah, who would ever hope for the worst? My spoken cliché hinted at the unbelief in my heart. The Spirit seemed to take the thought and use it to nudge me, “Are you really hoping for the best, or are you believing the worst?”
The fact is, I’ll be honest here, I WANT to hope for the best, but I’m worn out with hoping for this shoulder. This will be my fourth shoulder surgery –two on my right shoulder to finally get it right, and the second on my left to address the problems that arose during rehab from my rotator cuff repair. (And, no, I don’t know why this has happened to me. Sure, I play(ed) tennis most of my life, but I know women who play way more than I who’ve never had one problem.)
When asked, I had to answer the Holy Spirit honestly, “I dread the coming days – the way anesthesia leaves me feeling groggy for days, missing fun with family, losing days of work, the stretching, and the pain, pain, pain.”
But then, well, not then exactly, but sometime during the day and for sure, this morning. A small shift came. In the grocery store, I had this thought, “I’ll ride the hope of others for me. I don’t have to hope. Others are doing it on my behalf.” And the strangest thing happened this morning. I felt like someone had been reading my mail when my husband, who also happens to be my surgeon (no, we’ve never done this before, but after much prayer, we think it’s the right decision), came into my study and talked to me about my surgery. He told me there’s a new nasal spray that might keep me from having to take as much narcotic post-op. He told me what he plans to do. He talked to me about how he wants to see me out of chronic pain. And he prayed for me.
I’m not going to lie – I’d still trade my surgery in for a root canal (I thinkJ!), but I feel hope growing, and I’m grateful. Hope doesn’t depend on my hoping for the best, because often I am really believing the worst. But the God of all hope is filling our hearts, using people to do it. Who will you ask to hope for you today?
Acts 1:18: “Even on my servants, both men and women, I will pour out my Spirit in those days, and they will prophesy.”
M.E. is a bright child, but the light of her compassionate heart is the greatest enlightenment anyone could have.
My husband’s smart. He booked our tickets home in aisle seats, so our family of six was lined up 3 and 3, behind and across from one another. To be honest, I needed to do a lot of writing, so I would have preferred no nearby conversation, certainly not the one I heard our lovely, extroverted 18-year-old daughter having in the row behind me – it was too captivating to ignoreJ!
Somehow talk turned to religion. I think her seatmate was a former Catholic from Rome, now deciding between Catholicism and Baptist. Here’s some of what I heard Mary Elizabeth (great name for this discussionJ) say…
Her seatmate apparently mentioned praying to saints.
M.E.: “I don’t know about praying to Mary or praying to saints – that’s kind of interesting and I’ll have to learn more about it.” (Her seatmate seemed to agree.)
M.E.: “But I think that I should just pray to Jesus because he is the Savior, and praying to anyone or anything else seems like it might be idolatry. You know, it’s like how we went to this place in Athens where Paul told the people about the unknown gods they worshipped.”
The conversation continued and meandered, but her seatmate’s comment echoed in my heart, “Thank you so much for talking with me about this.”
Prophesying really means teaching the Word, telling the Story. We don’t have to speak funny languages, nor do we have to have a seminary degree (though knowing the Bible helps a lot.) What stranger, what friend, what enemy, would thank you for telling what you know of The Story to them today?
we stood in Ephesus yesterday, not far from the synagogue where the Apostle Paul stirred up so much trouble with the silversmiths. standing in the library, yet anither site of intellectual elite, examining the latrines!, the product of ancient technological advance, studying a cornerstone that holds the arch together, i came away with this…the apostles and early Christians were really sold out for the gospel. it seems to me it would take the kind of strength that comes from great faith -“you’ve got to see this! a new way even better…” kind of faith to bring the hope ofmthe gospel who alreadybhad a strong faith-in gods who seemed to run their lives…read Acts 19 and Ephesians…gotta let my kids use my Ipad. off to watch the local craftspeople tool leather and make jewelry.
“While Paul was waiting for them in Athens, he was greatly distressed to see that the city was full of idols.” Acts 17:1
Somewhat saddened as I wait to disembark in Athens, knowing the unrest — anti-shalom of the current environment, riots, strikes, economic failure, and general chaos of recent days.
The idols are surely smashed and desecrated, the greatest ancient ruin, the Parthenon, frailly stands, supported by foundations made by human hands that can no longer sustain the restorative efforts because money to pay laborers has dried up.
Longing to see the Areopagus, the rock named after the god of war, “Ares,” which is not even marked on maps here. At this Mars Hill, among the intellectual elite of this also-named council, the apostle Paul, was accused of being a plagiarist and a babbler. Even if I make it there, I have heard the graffiti-smears darken the stone and defaces the site.
And yet no darkness, even the shadowy Internet Cafe where I type, no disfigurement, no defilement of shalom, can block out God’s glorious light. His glory shines even brighter in the dim ruins of ancient litlle-g glory. What is ugly now foresees the ultimate restoration and renewal of this place when every city will bow before the one true and very known God who loves His cosmos and daily redeems it and us. Time runs out — imagine yourself in the place and read the real story in Acts 17. Pictures to come:) Piraeus, Greece
How can you be sure of what you can't see?
Figure that one out. I’m writing about faith and hope and thinking about Hebrews 11:1: “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for; the conviction of things not seen. Today I read this really cool quote that sounded quite relevant to our contemporary struggle with faith. The language is a bit challenging, but stick with it and tell me if you see what he’s saying…
“The Spirit of God shows us hidden things, the knowledge of which cannot reach our senses…
We are told of the resurrection of the blessed, but meantime we are involved in corruption;
we are declared to be just, and sin dwells within us;
we hear that we are blessed, but meantime we are overwhelmed by untold miseries;
we are promised an abundance of good things, but we are often hungry and thirsty;
God proclaims that He will come to us immediately, but seems to be deaf to our cries.
What would happen to us if we did not rely on our hope, and if our minds did not emerge above the world out of the midst of darkness through the shining Word of God and by His Spirit?
Faith is rightly called the substance of things which are still the objects of hope and the evidence of things not seen.” John Calvin (Commentary on Hebrews)
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