Faith from Inside My Snow Globe

Recently I've been prompted to think about the subject of suffering through sermons our pastor, Tullian Tchividjian, has been preaching on Job.

All suffering, in relationship to believers, seems to share the common substance of refining power. When God brings suffering to Job, the outcomes appear to be the glorification of God through Job's abiding trust in God's purposes and sanctification through Job's personal struggle  to consistently see God as the loving entity that he is even in painful experiences. Tullian shared this quote from Elyse Fitzpatrick “The proof of God’s power is not that we never suffer but that in our suffering, everything is turned to our good.” The temptation for me is to try to bypass the hurting through the knowledge that God is working out his good purposes in my life. But if I waltzed through my sufferings with a "Tra-la-la" attitude, where would the suffering lie? God's faithfulness to us isn't about taking away the pain of suffering, but it is about constructively using the pain of suffering. I think the key to bearing up under suffering is to accept it as a whole- the pain, the isolation, and the fear with a tenacious faith that God will ultimately use it for good. 


Recently I was telling a friend about my challenges in handling tough times. I talk to God and he gets my head and emotions straight, but, with every new development in a crisis, I have to repeat the process. "It's sort of like I live in a snow globe," I said, "and people can just walk by and shake up my world." It's hard for me to accept the fact that I have very little control over how and by whom my world is shaken. When I tremble, I have to rely on God to steady my snow globe world. And that reliance is an everyday thing. 

Feeling dismembered?

I journaled this in October 2010. I thought it was worth posting because of the importance of being connected to a local body of Christ.

Last January Steve and I began to entertain the idea that God might be calling us to work in a new church setting in South Florida.

Saying good-bye to all of our friends in Chattanooga was a most painful experience. My heart was broken multiple times as I spent evenings with my close friends at the end of my stay. As I parted from these dear ones, I began to notice that parts of me seemed to be staying behind with them. I haven't felt like a whole person here in Fort Lauderdale. At first I worried that this was an indication of severe mental strain and it may be, however, I've also pondered the Body of Christ concept as a possible explanation. When we become a part of the body of Christ it is both a macro and a micro experience. Yes, I am still a part of the global body of Christ, but I am leaving the local body of Christ on Signal Mountain and joining a different body here in South Florida. It's no wonder that I feel incomplete. Let's say, metaphorically speaking, that I am a little toe in the body of Christ at Signal. Well, golly gee, here I am in South Florida feeling very much like a little toe who is missing the rest of its body. I suppose the message I am sending myself is that I need to connect with the local body of Christ here and I am definitely asking God where and how he wants me to connect and serve. Building relationships and becoming integrated in the body of Christ here will take time. It seems like the answer to all of my concerns now is patience.

More about patience or my lack of it at a later date.