Leaving Behind the Cowardly Lion Within

My youngest son stood half hidden beneath a natural arbor of overgrown bamboo.   Milk carton bucket in hand, his eyes focused on the thick, gray stepping stone beneath his feet. 

“Did you get the eggs?” I yelled across the yard.

He responded with a reluctant shake of his head. 

“Why not? What’s wrong, Emerson?”

Immediately, his face crumpled into tears.  “Because I’m scared there might be a snake!”

I gave a great sigh and marched to the hen house, flung wide the door, and gathered the eggs myself as I forced myself to speak calmly and softly about how the sunlight beaming inside made it impossible for a chicken snake to hide.

Courage, it seemed, was the topic of the month.  As a mother, I knew this sudden fear had nothing to do with snakes and everything to do with starting school a week earlier.

The first hint of his fears about Kindergarten manifested themselves in a more than usual fear of wasps.  Then, he began dissolving into tears over pool noodle light sabers, a party game he didn’t know how to play, and now snakes. 

Perhaps this personal issue with courage in my household over the past few weeks has made me more in tune with those in Scripture who altered their actions because of fear.

One instance involved King Ahaz, an evil king if there ever was one, a king who likely invoked fear in all his subjects.  Scripture says of him, “Unlike David his father, he did not do what was right in the eyes of the Lord his God. He followed the ways of the kings of Israel and even sacrificed his son in the fire, engaging in the detestable practices of the nations the Lord had driven out before the Israelites. He offered sacrifices and burned incense at the high places, on the hilltops and under every spreading tree” (2 Kings 16:2-4).

A man who would sacrifice his own flesh and blood was not to be trifled with.  Although he did not persecute the prophets as would his grandson Manasseh in 2 Kings 21, I imagine he did not treat with favor those who disagreed with his plans and philosophies. 

When King Ahaz decided to alter God’s plan for His holy temple, surely everyone knew a king did not expect to be contradicted, and he wasn’t.

Scripture records in detail Ahaz’s decision to create a new altar of sacrifice, one modeled after an altar to a pagan god: “Then King Ahaz went to Damascus to meet Tiglath-Pileser king of Assyria. He saw an altar in Damascus and sent to Uriah the priest a sketch of the altar, with detailed plans for its construction. So Uriah the priest built an altar in accordance with all the plans that King Ahaz had sent from Damascus and finished it before King Ahaz returned” (v. 10-11).

Uriah the priest had a choice—be courageous and stand against what he knew to be wrong or give in because he feared the king. 

He chose fear. 

Uriah built the altar, perhaps hoping that by giving in to this one whim of the king’s, he could positively influence the king down the road.  Or maybe Uriah thought this wasn’t that big a compromise.  Or perhaps it was just as simple as Uriah being more scared of telling the king 'no' than of disappointing a God he couldn't see with his physical eyes. 

But this one compromise and lack of courage began an avalanche, one small snowball transforming into something much more that would eventually bring down an entire kingdom: 

“When the king came back from Damascus and saw the altar, he approached it and presented offerings on it…As for the bronze altar that stood before the Lord, he brought it from the front of the temple—from between the new altar and the temple of the Lord—and put it on the north side of the new altar.  King Ahaz then gave these orders to Uriah the priest: ‘On the large new altar, offer the morning burnt offering and the evening grain offering, the king’s burnt offering and his grain offering, and the burnt offering of all the people of the land, and their grain offering and their drink offering. Splash against this altar the blood of all the burnt offerings and sacrifices. But I will use the bronze altar for seeking guidance.’ And Uriah the priest did just as King Ahaz had ordered” (2 Kin. 16:12-16).

Again, Uriah stood by, saying nothing, as King Ahaz took over the role of the priest, offering his own sacrifices on his own altar, something God specifically forbade back in Numbers 18:7.  Uriah said nothing as Ahaz displaced God’s holy altar in favor of his pagan one.

All the while, Uriah simply remained silent, compromising more and more until he went down in history as the man who “did just as King Ahaz had ordered.”

The odd thing is that the prophet Isaiah called upon Uriah to serve as his witness, calling him a “reliable” or “faithful witness” (Is. 8:1-2).  Based on these words, it seems, then, that Uriah was a good and faithful man at one point in his journey, one who simply compromised, likely because he feared man more than he feared God.

It all boils down to courage.

Jesus warned his disciples, “Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell” (Matt. 10:28). 

Uriah--along with more priests and prophets than I can count in Scripture—compromised his convictions.  He lacked courage.  But honestly?  How many of us Christians today find themselves compromising our own convictions.

Perhaps it’s that we think in compromising on one small thing, we will win someone to the Lord.  Or perhaps it is a fear of offending someone or even a fear of being rejected.

Many Christians around the world do live in fear for their lives.  But for those of us who need not fear death just for speaking the name of Jesus, we may think courage is not needed. 

Nothing could be further from the truth.  If anything, I find modern Christians to be needing a huge dose of courage.  In our physical security, we have become so fearful of what others will think of us that we have become too scared to open our mouths and share the gospel with our neighbors and friends. 

This is a call for you and me to become courageous followers of Christ.  May we refuse to compromise the truth found in the Word of God.  May we bravely speak the truth in love to those around us.  May we have the courage to share Jesus with everyone we meet.

Let us take the words of one of my favorite hymns to heart:

Be strong in the Lord, and be of good courage;
Your mighty Defender is always the same.
Mount up with wings, as the eagle ascending; Vict'ry is sure when you call on His name.
 
Chorus: Be strong, be strong, be strong in the Lord;
And be of good courage, for He is your Guide.
Be strong, be strong, be strong in the Lord;
And rejoice for the vict'ry is yours.
 
So put on the armor the Lord has provided;
And place your defense in His unfailing care.
Trust Him, for He will be with you in battle,
Lighting your past to avoid every snare.
 
Be strong in the Lord, and be of good courage;
Your mighty Commander will vanquish the foe.
Fear no the battle for the vict'ry is always His;
He will protect you wherever you go.

Finding Out You Can't Sing

My daughter sits in the top of the buggy, hands reaching out for whatever is in arm's reach, all while singing at the top of her lungs. Like many children, Amelia has trouble distinguishing between what is an outside versus an inside voice. This time is no different.

As I run fingers down book spines, quickly searching the stacks at our favorite thrift store, I listen, trying to make out the tune. I can't. I listen harder only to realize her words are so run together that I can't understand anything...except the word Jesus. Every few loudly sung non-words, I clearly hear Jesus followed by more nonsense, then Jesus again.

My cheeks flush as I bite my tongue. Half the store can hear, but how can I tell her to hush when she's singing a heart's praise? Isn't that what I've taught? To sing like there is an audience of One, soul turned upward to the Father?

All too often, this world makes real singing impossible. Even when we should be singing praises to God in worship, sometimes the pain of life, the suffering, overwhelm our fleshly senses to the point where we feel a song can't pass our lips or when it does, it is as mere emotionless words. Other times, self consciousness about what others might think turns our heart song into a whisper, especially if we have a talent for being off key.

When the Israelites lived captive in Babylon, they also had a problem with singing real songs from the heart. The Psalmist, perhaps even the prophet Jeremiah, writes:

"By the rivers of Babylon,
There we sat down and wept,
When we remembered Zion.
Upon the willows in the midst of it
We hung our harps.
For there our captors demanded of us songs,
And our tormentors mirth, saying,
'Sing us one of the songs of Zion.' How can we sing the LORD’S song
In a foreign land?" (Ps. 137:1-4).

Why the Israelites brought their harps with them is unclear. Did they bring the instruments for comfort's sake, soothing familiarity in far away land? Did they keep them for preservation's sake when all Jerusalem was being burned, a hope that they would be used once again by Levites in worship when they returned home?

Whatever the reasoning, they seemed to be unable to use the harps for comfort or even worship away from the temple. The mere sight of the instrument caused them to remember and weep. But instead of packing away the harps in storage or hiding them in the cleft of a rock, the people of God "hung" their harps in plain sight when they "remembered." The Hebrew word used here means "to cause to be remembered,"* implying the people were consciously sitting down in their captivity, forcing themselves to remember and grieve, not an instance where they merely fell into a heap when overwhelmed by sudden emotion.

Although with downtrodden spirits in this conscious grief, the people of God had hearts that still could have sung in worship to God. Scripture commands, "in everything give thanks"(1 Thes. 5:18). The Psalmist even advised, "This is the day which the LORD has made; Let us rejoice and be glad in it" (Ps. 118:24). Yet, like many of us have likewise felt at moments such as these, the Israelites could only focus on what was lost versus on what God was still providing in His every-present mercy. They could only send up lamentations instead of praise, unable to see God at work in their present circumstances, "In a foreign land."

Despite their seeming inability to choose praising God through song, Israel was still required by her captors to sing. And so they sang, out of compulsion, not out of joy or worship of Yahweh or even out of lamentation. These songs of Zion the captors wanted so badly to hear were hymns of worship, of Israel's history as God's chosen ones, and of God's faithfulness to protect and provide. Surely, the captors wanted to hear the words in order to mock the slaves...and to mock the God of Israel.

Amidst the mocking and grief, the sung words were empty, soul disconnected from words.

Only when the captives were returned to Israel seventy years later did their souls soar enough to feel like singing once again to God:

"When the LORD brought back the captive ones of Zion,
We were like those who dream.
Then our mouth was filled with laughter
And our tongue with joyful shouting;
Then they said among the nations,
'The LORD has done great things for them.'
The LORD has done great things for us;
We are glad" (Ps. 126: 1-3).

The King James Version translates "joyful shouting" in verse 2 as "singing," the Hebrew word ranan meaning "to be overcome," "to cry out, shout for joy, give a ringing cry."* It is this type of soul overflowing song of praise that is generally thought to be true worship, when the heart cannot not sing because of joy.

Yet, I would argue that even this is not the fullness of what a song to God will one day be.

Although Israel had returned home to Jerusalem, their question, "How can we sing the LORD’S song In a foreign land?" was and still is a pertinent question.

Peter refers to Christians as "aliens and strangers"--blood-covered, spirit-filled foreigners living in a sin-stained earth (1 Pet. 2:11). Perhaps, then, God's people can never sing the Lord's song in this foreign, impure land.

If this is true, then consider the singing depicted in Revelation: "And they sang a new song before the throne and before the four living creatures and the elders; and no one could learn the song except the one hundred and forty-four thousand who had been purchased from the earth" (Rev. 14:3).
This "new song" sung around the throne may not be filled with uncommon words or a tune man has never heard before. Instead, perhaps it is a newness in that it can only be sung in its fullness by a redeemed soul finally home.

True heart-song singing need not be out of joy. It need not be loud or in time with a harp. In one sense, a raw song of worship, unadorned by instruments yet quietly lifted from a soul that is torn, battered, and in captivity--this is an equal, perhaps greater, song of worship.

Either song, though, is inferior to the one Christians will sing one day before the throne. On that day when we are no longer foreigners but are home once and forevermore, perhaps we children of God will discover none of us has ever been able to sing before. We only thought we knew how.


*BlueLetterBible.org
Photo: Shutterstock.com


(Archives 09.04.11) 

Choosing to Live as "Dust Pans"

In the early 1900s, an American missionary named Raymond Bush went to South Africa to spread the gospel to the natives.  While there, he took a young African boy named Tisese under his wing, allowing the boy to leave his village and come to live at the mission station with him and his wife.  There, the boy learned to love Jesus and God's Word.  

At one point after hearing of Saul's conversion to become Paul, Tisese said, "'Now that I am a Christian, my name shall be 'Dust Pan' forever!'"  When Raymond asked why he had chosen the name, Tisese replied, "I was just passing your house and saw your wife sweeping, with that tool called a dust pan in her hand. She carried all the dirt out of your hut with it. I want to be a dust pan, too, so that when I go home I may carry out the dirt from the lives of my father, my family, and all my friends. I want to be a Dust Pan for Jesus!" 

And a "dust pan" he would be.  

When Raymond prepared another journey to the boy's village, Dust Pan insisted on going: "There is no time to lose! Even now my family could be dying without Jesus. My father could be killed in a tribal fight. My mother may be eaten by lions while working in the garden! My brothers and sisters may die and never hear of Jesus in time."

Reluctantly, Raymond relented, allowing the boy to accompany his caravan.  After several nights, the boy's feet were covered in blisters, but still, young Dust Pan refused to turn back.  Instead, he walked for days on bandaged feet until his blisters burst.  His feet bled with each step until, at last, he reached his home village. 

One year later, missionary Raymond returned to Dust Pan's village.  There, he found 364 new Christians all waiting to be baptized, including the boy's former-witch-doctor father, his mother, his three sisters, and his five brothers.  

The witness of one small boy had brought so much light to the dark heart of the African jungle.*

*****

My children and I read this story over a week ago and still, it remains in my heart and mind what one little boy could accomplish for the kingdom of  God.  It makes me look at my young children differently, wondering what they could accomplish for Jesus, what I could accomplish for Him, if not weighed down with self doubt.

Even in my late thirties, I am still guilty of thinking myself too unknowledgeable, too insignificant to make a difference for Jesus.  But the apostle Paul cautioned against such a defeatist attitude, telling Timothy:

"Let no one look down on your youthfulness, but rather in speech, conduct, love, faith and purity, show yourself an example of those who believe. Until I come, give attention to the public reading of Scripture, to exhortation and teaching. Do not neglect the spiritual gift within you, which was bestowed on you through prophetic utterance with the laying on of hands by the presbytery. Take pains with these things; be absorbed in them, so that your progress will be evident to all. Pay close attention to yourself and to your teaching; persevere in these things, for as you do this you will ensure salvation both for yourself and for those who hear you" (1 Tim. 4:12-16).

In other words, it isn't our physical age that determines our usefulness but rather our spiritual age. Maturity, in these verses, seems to come from three things: (1) being "absorbed" with the reading and teaching of the Word of God, (2) ensuring our daily conduct always reflects Christ, and (3) using our spiritual gifts.  

Although they seem independent qualities, the three are connected.  In order to properly teach Scripture, I'm going to need to be absorbed in reading/studying Scripture in my private time, which will naturally spill over into my speech and direct my conduct.  Another byproduct of being absorbed in Scripture is that I will be seeking to use my spiritual gifts to exhort and edify others.  My public life is merely a reflection of my private life with Christ.

The end result is that my "progress will be evident to all." 

As Christians, we simply must stop thinking in terms of "I can't" or "I don't know enough" and start seeking to use whatever spiritual gift God has endowed us with.  Then, just let God take care of the rest.

It is in this way that we can all be little Dust Pans for Jesus.  





*The story of Dust Pan can be found in Mildred A. Martin's book Missionary Stories with the Millers.  (pp. 153-159).

When Your Heart's Not In The Relationship

It is hard to put ourselves out there, to unlock the armor surrounding our hearts and make ourselves vulnerable to another. 

Marriage, friendship, parenthood--no matter the relationship, each involves tearing down protective walls we so carefully construct, many whose brick and mortar we have painstakingly laid by hand after some past hurt or betrayal.

I've been there numerous times, closed tight as a newly formed rose bud, separated from all others around me as I promised myself I would simply live at a distance from everyone and anyone in order to never be hurt like that again.

But time and time again, I have felt others' kindness and offers of love and friendship carefully soften the petals of the heart until my heart is in full bloom of a healthy relationship, once again vulnerable as I extend part of me beyond the safe walls of myself.  

It's a cycle of separation and safety followed by the terror and joy of entering into relationship again only to find myself back at the beginning all too quickly.  

Keeping people at arm's length is a safe existence.  But it's also quite lonely.

What's more, it is not what God intended, especially when it comes to our relationship with Him. 

The prophet Isaiah cautions the people of Israel concerning this type of cold relationship towards God, warning of pending judgment "Because this people draw near with their words And honor Me with their lip service, But they remove their hearts far from Me, And their reverence for Me consists of tradition learned by rote" (Is. 29:13).

The Israelites had religion.  They had their sacrifices, offerings, feasts, and prayers down pat.  But there were two problems.

One, their hearts weren't in their worship, and secondly, their worship was "tradition learned by rote."  Neither was a true relationship with the One whom they served with their lips and hands.

To begin with, a real relationship with God must involve our hearts.  At one point in our lives, we've all probably said something like, "My heart just wasn't in it."  In other words, we did whatever it was, but we didn't want to and likely didn't do it to the best of our ability. It was just a task to check off our lists.

On the contrary, a relationship that pleases God is one where our heart is fully in it.  He can't just be another thing to check off our list each day.

A heart-involved relationship requires us to be honest with God, to tell Him when we're upset over the path He's asked us to walk (it's not like He doesn't know anyway!) versus simply praying words we think He wants to hear but that we don't really feel inside. Such transparency fosters trust as real truth is spoken instead of platitudes.

Next to honesty, it also requires us to share every part of our lives with Him.  That means we can't relegate Him to certain times of the day, certain activities, or particular days of the week.  We must seek to worship Him when doing the mundane tasks like washing clothes, listen for that still small voice when weeding the flower bed or mowing the lawn, and look for His fingerprints when stuck in traffic or at the doctor's office.  It's a 24-7-365 relationship.

Secondly, a real relationship can't be mere tradition.  As Isaiah said, it can't be a routine.  Instead, we must seek to make our hearts tender to the Spirit's prompting over our sin so that we can repent quickly and be reconciled with God. 

As the Psalmist writes, "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; A broken and a contrite heart, O God, You will not despise" (Ps. 51:17). This is what God wants from us.

At times, we may feel hurt or betrayed by what God has allowed to happen to us. Yet, while our flesh may tell us to protect our hearts from Him by merely giving lip service to that relationship, it is in these moments that we most need Him fully in our lives.  

Unlike those around us, He is the only one we can trust with our whole heart. He will never leave us nor forsake us...and that's a promise He sealed with the blood of His only Son. 

Hanging on the Right Peg

It is all too easy to put people on a pedestal, especially those we admire for one reason or another.

Perhaps it's someone we work with, the model employee whom we strive to emulate in our own career.  It could be the mother or father we uplift because of their parenting skills.   Or maybe it's a relationship between a husband and wife that we elevate, wishing our own marriage could be as perfect as theirs.

Even in the church, we tend to put our fellow Christians on pedestals. If we're honest, we're worse than American Idol judges with our own rating systems, each of us having a "good Christian" checklist in our minds that we unconsciously use to "rate" others and their walk with Christ.  When we find someone who meets those qualifications, we mentally place them high on a lofty shelf where we can look up to their visage  as we strive to be like them.

In this way, we put our faith in them versus in Christ; we strive to be like man versus like Jesus.

It's a recipe for disaster.

The prophet Isaiah speaks of such instances when we put our faith in men versus in God.

In Chapter 22, he speaks against a steward named "Shebna, who is in charge of the royal household" of Judah (v. 15).  2 Kings 18 further describes this man as second only after the king, obviously a position of great political influence, which would have also bestowed upon him great responsibility towards the people of Judah.

Yet, instead of spending his time caring for the affairs of State, Shebna made grand plans for how he would be remembered after this life, constructing a large tomb for himself.  Because of his pride and political corruption, God said, "I will depose you from your office" (v. 19).

Shebna was obviously not the kind of man one would stick his faith and trust in.  But then, God brings someone to power who sounds like a good leader, a man named Eliakim:

"Then it will come about in that day, That I will summon My servant Eliakim the son of Hilkiah, And I will clothe him with your tunic And tie your sash securely about him. I will entrust him with your authority, And he will become a father to the inhabitants of Jerusalem and to the house of Judah. Then I will set the key of the house of David on his shoulder, When he opens no one will shut, When he shuts no one will open. I will drive him like a peg in a firm place, And he will become a throne of glory to his father's house" (Is. 22:20-23).

Unlike his self-serving predecessor, Eliakim is a "father" or "supreme counselor"* to those in Judah.  The imagery here is of a ruler who nourishes the kingdom, one who has its best interests at heart rather than one who uses his position for personal gain.

Eliakim seems as solid as they come; the Lord even describes him as "like a peg in a firm place," a peg the Lord has driven in, Himself. 

Once firmly in power, you can bet the relatives and friends came out of the woodwork, each wanting to expand his own influence based on a relation to him.  Scripture says, "So they will hang on him all the glory of his father's house, offspring and issue, all the least of vessels, from bowls to all the jars" (v. 24).

The people of Judah put their faith in this man.  They hang all their hopes on him.

And in the end, they are disappointed; as Isaiah tells us, "'In that day,' declares the Lord of hosts, 'the peg driven in a firm place will give way; it will even break off and fall, and the load hanging on it will be cut off, for the Lord has spoken'" (v. 25). 

This peg, hammered firmly in place by the Lord himself--even it broke, fell.  I don't know whether that fall was Eliakim's mortal death, a fall from the king's favor, or evidence of pride and political corruption resulting from power going to his head.  Either way, the result is the same--the "load" of people hanging on him "will be cut off" and fall to the ground.

The only pegs firm enough to hold forever were the nails firmly hammered through Jesus' flesh and into an old wooden cross to secure our salvation.

The warning is clear--hanging one's trust and faith on any man will only result in both disappointment and, ultimately, being "cut off" from God.  The only way to avoid both is to put one's faith in Jesus Christ alone, to strive to emulate Him as the author and finisher of our faith, not to emulate an elevated pastor, deacon, or teacher. 

Even mature Christian men and women are just that--men and women who sin and fall on a daily basis just like you and me.  Our faith must be placed in God alone, not in someone else's relationship to Him. 

We can be sure: if our faith is hanging on anyone other than Christ, we will fall.



*Gesenius' Hebrew-Chaldee Lexicon

When God Doesn't Behave

After finishing my master’s degree, I was hired by my alma matter to teach for the fall semester. But as Christmas approached, I discovered that my contract wouldn’t be renewed. Although I was more than disappointed, I quickly learned of a job opening at the nearby community college and, as expected, made it to the final interview with the Vice Chancellor—just me and another young man. Surely, I would get the job.

Then, I got the call and a sinking feeling in my chest as I listened to the words, “Not chosen.” I was officially unemployed. No salary. COBRA insurance that would run out all too quickly. And no prospects anytime in the near future since teachers are usually hired for January or August start dates.

Over the next couple months, I was rejected for countless jobs, most that required less education than I had, including Wal-mart. What was going on?!? Had I listened to God wrong when choosing my degree path? (No.) Was I being punished for some unrepented of sin? (No.) Then why wasn’t God getting me a job…now?

I was devastated. God was not behaving like I thought He should.

King David suffered a similar devastation with God acting differently than expected after he decided to bring the Ark of the Covenant back to Jerusalem . There, the ark would at all times be before the people of Israel as a tangible reminder of God’s presence resting between the cherubim.

Talk about a huge parade: 30,000 lyre-playing, cymbal-smashing, tambourine-shaking men celebrated as they followed the oxen-pulled cart that carried the ark. Then, the unthinkable happened—the oxen stumbled, a man named Uzzah put out his hand to steady the ark, and God immediately struck him dead.

“David became angry because of the LORD'S outburst against Uzzah…So David was afraid of the LORD that day; and he said, ‘How can the ark of the LORD come to me?’” (2 Sam. 6:8-9). Devastated, he refused to take the ark one step further and left it at Obed-edom’s house.

David was offended by God’s actions. And he was scared. This wasn’t the God David thought he knew. This was a fearful God of seemingly random judgment and death.

Yet God was the same as he’d always been. David just didn’t know very well the God he was serving, a righteous, holy God whose very character dictated that He demand reverence and whole-hearted obedience to His Word.

It took David three months to learn God’s reaction was as a result of his own disobedience in not seeking God’s law for instructions in how to transport the ark. And in the knowledge that God was still the same holy God he’d been serving all along, David finally brought the ark into the city of Jerusalem.

In a little different situation, John the Baptist was also devotedly serving God (no disobedience in sight), proclaiming the way of the Lord, when he was imprisoned. How devastating that must have been, to be doing exactly what God called him to do and to be left sitting in jail. He must have wondered why Jesus didn’t miraculously get him out!

In his devastation at where God had placed him, he sent his disciples to Jesus to ask, "’Are You the Expected One, or do we look for someone else?’" (Lk. 7:20). Jesus said to tell John of the miracles He was working and then stated, “’Blessed is he who does not take offense at Me’” (Lk. 7:23).

We all have the opportunity to be offended with God when He doesn’t act how we think He should. When we feel devastated or offended by God’s actions, we must return to our knowledge of who Scripture says God is. We must rest in the belief that He will always act according to who Scripture says He is, according to his full and complete character, not just part of his character...and that He will always act according to what He knows is best for us, our eternal salvation, and His glory.




Posting from the archives tonight, believing these words even as I pause from this blog to grieve for a brother and sister in Christ.

The Difference Hope Can Make in Your Marriage

This week, my children have been memorizing Jeremiah 29:11: "'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'"

I've always focused on the beginning and ending phrases in this passage--(1) that the Lord knows all that will happen to me and (2) that He desires a prosperous future for me.  

Such promises go hand in hand with Paul's words: "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him" (Rom. 8:28). 

Somehow, though, I've skipped over the middle part of Jeremiah's promise--"to give you hope."  I've never perceived hope as an important gift from God, but all one need do is seriously imagine a life without hope, and its necessity becomes clear.

Consider living each day with no hope that things would ever get better in your life--no hope for a better job, no hope that your children would mature into productive adults, no hope that your marriage would be happier, no hope in a future beyond this life.  

Imagine a hopeless existence where you must admit to yourself, "This is as good as it gets." Even those who would admit being happy with their lives in general still live with hope, if not for themselves than for a better world.

Paul explains how hope is a lot like faith, in believing in the unseen: "For in hope we have been saved, but hope that is seen is not hope; for who hopes for what he already sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, with perseverance we wait eagerly for it" (Rom. 8:24-25).

God gives us hope to carry us through those hard nights and days.  Perhaps it is not a hope for a perfect life here on earth, but it is always a hope for an eternal future in Christ.  

Without hope, it is too easy to accept defeat.  Nowhere is this most clear to me than in the realm of marriage.  

In Shaunti Feldhahn's newest book: The Good News About Marriage: Debunking Discouraging Myths About Marriage and Divorce, she argues the greatest threat to the modern marriage is not divorce but lack of hope.  

She writes,"You've probably heard the grim facts: Half of all marriages end in divorce. The divorce rate inside the church is the same as outside. And, most marriages are just holding on. But what if these 'facts' are actually myths."

Feldhahn then breaks these myths down, explaining how they came about in the first place, such as the 50% divorce rate being based on projected divorces instead of actual measured divorces. In other words, what we have told to be facts are just assumptions--and faulty ones at that. 

According to Feldhahn's research, 72% of married people are still married to their first spouse (p. 21). What's more, 80% of all marriages are happy (p. 44).  

Interestingly enough, even unhappy marriages can have hope.  Feldhahn writes, "Two out of three unhappily married adults who avoided divorce or separation ended up happily married five years later...Among those who rated their marriages as very unhappy, almost eight out of ten who avoided divorce were happily married five years later" (p. 53).

Such statistics are incredibly encouraging, offering hope that things will get better in even an unhappy marriage.

The most empowering part of this short book, though, deals with Christianity and marriage.  I've been discouraged in the past by the Barna study that showed the divorce rate being the same for Christians as non-Christians, but Feldhahn explains the Barna researchers only studied "those who professed to hold Christian beliefs, not those who went to church" (p. 67).  In essence, a person could have been a Christian in name only and still have been stuck in the "Christian" category.

Feldhahn's research, however, studied those who were active in their faith and discovered that "weekly church attendance alone lowers the divorce rate significantly--roughly 25 to 50 percent" (p. 67).    

What's more, "couples who go to church or other religious services together on a regular basis have the lowest divorce rate of any group studied, regardless of other factors such as how long they've been married" (p. 74).  In short, nominal Christianity may not make a difference in a person's marriage, but active Christianity definitely does.

While not everything in Feldhahn's book is encouraging (for instance, 74% of first unions now live together before marriage), the bulk of her findings are well worth both Christians and non-Christians taking note of.  Despite the bad news the media constantly feeds us about marriage, the truth is more encouraging.  

Consider how these lies impact our view of marriage.  Even in the church, there is a sense of hopelessness concerning the state of marriage in America, the opposite of what God intends us to have, especially in a heart devoted to Him. 

Consider the impact hope can have upon your marriage and my marriage.  If a couple believes half of marriages fail, then they are predisposed to be less hopeful about their own marriage.  When hard times come, they tell themselves divorce was statistically bound to happen anyway.  However, if that same couple believes most marriages do make it, then that hope will propel them to work harder to ensure their marriage survives.

It's the promise of hope.  It's the power of hope.   

Pass it on.

Divorce isn’t the greatest threat to marriage. Discouragement is.

You’ve probably heard the grim facts: Half of all marriages end in divorce. The divorce rate inside the church is the same as outside. And, most marriages are just holding on. But what if these “facts” are actually myths?
- See more at: http://www.shaunti.com/book/good-news-marriage/#sthash.GACgTGzp.dpuf

Divorce isn’t the greatest threat to marriage. Discouragement is.

You’ve probably heard the grim facts: Half of all marriages end in divorce. The divorce rate inside the church is the same as outside. And, most marriages are just holding on. But what if these “facts” are actually myths?
- See more at: http://www.shaunti.com/book/good-news-marriage/#sthash.GACgTGzp.dpuf