A Little Story . . . and hopefully some encouragement

“O Lord my God, when the storm is loud, and the night is dark, and the soul is sad, and the heart oppressed; then, as a weary traveler, may I look to you; and beholding the light of your love, may it bear me on, until I learn to sing your song in the night. Amen.” From Little Book of Prayers by George Dawson.

Sometimes in the midst of the trials and burdens of life, we lose sight of the idea of an anchor. We feel tossed and thrown as on a wild and restless sea. Our emotions tell us that things will never be good, all will be despair and loss. Our hope seems shipwrecked, our desire to go on in life sinks into depression. We see nothing good, only evil all around us. Our enemies (both physical and spiritual) seem to have the upper hand, they seem to be winning the day. The victory we felt sure would come has not yet manifested itself, and we feel ourselves sinking ever deeper into a pit in which we cannot get the proper traction to climb. The clock is ticking down, our hope is gone, our day is over, and Christ has not come.

Like the disciples in Luke 24, we had hoped that Jesus would be the one who would rescue us all. We had fervently prayed that maybe, just maybe, today would be the day when we would “live happily ever after” and find our dreams coming true. We shake our heads and go out for a walk. Maybe some fresh air and a quick walk will clear out the cob webs in our minds. Still, the topic of our recent failure hangs like a cloud over our heads, raining down doubt and fear.

Suddenly, a stranger approaches. He seems rather ignorant of our experiences, and besides that he has a fairly sunny disposition. He is definitely someone we want to avoid at this moment. No pie in the sky false hope will satisfy us. We fear that he will say something like, “Cheer up! Keep a stiff upper lip! Things will work out in the end!” We try to avoid the stranger, yet he resolutely comes our direction. He seems determined to interrupt our brooding, our despair. We try to ignore him, but then he speaks.

“So, what’s going on? Why the sad face?” Out of pure human kindness we try to explain our pain in as brief a manner as possible. We do not want to burden strangers with our “little” concerns, after all. The stranger hears our story and stands tall. Looking at us he says, “Foolish one, slow of heart to believe what God has said!”

The force of his accusation causes us to stumble in our walk. How dare this stranger tell us our business? How dare he interrupt our musings with his “pollyanna” announcement. We look at him with disdain and think that he has nothing to offer.

Then, he begins to speak to us again. Starting with the beginning of our story and bringing us pretty much up to date he tells us things we knew but somehow in our anguish had forgotten. As he speaks, our hearts get a bit lighter. We can literally feel a burning inside that slowly (painfully slowly) begins to purify our thoughts and hearts. We feel encouraged even.

We invite the stranger to eat with us, and he offers to say grace. As he prays, we realize his true identity. He is our Lord, the one who was beaten brutally, was painfully crucified, who died with the full weight of our sin upon his broken and bruised body. He has been there all along, listening to us, sympathizing with our pain and anguish. He has been waiting to comfort us with his presence. He loves us so.

We beg him to stay. Oh, the situations of our life haven’t changed dramatically. We still have problems, and those problems are just as depressing and burdensome as before. The difference is that we have Jesus in the house, and the light of his love gives us courage to press on, he becomes an anchor for our souls. Why? Simply stated—“Nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Through him and his love we may not have better situations or circumstances, but we can still be “more than conquerors through him who loved us” in the trials we share as his joint heirs. How? Talk to him. Let him love you. Trust his character. He is faithful even when we are faithless. You matter to him. Hang in there.

Thanks for reading!