A Spring of Joy

St. Augustine in his Confessions says “You arouse [man] to take joy in praising you, for you have made us for yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.” John of the Cross says in his work The Living Flame Of Love how the soul is meant to “cross over from its own empty silence into an expectant quiet that is alive with His presence.” But what does rest look like? What does God’s presence look like?

Since my hospital visit last week, there is a chaos in my heart and mind that is unsettling. My Friday ordeal with the IV’s has left me anxious, at moments even struggling to breathe through the fear of the agony of the memories. I have run to God, searched for Him, begged Him for relief from this oppressiveness. It is one of my tunnel moments where I am clinging desperately to my seat on the train. Only I feel like I am nailed to the cushion and can’t make my way to the dining car or the sleeping berth or the engine room. I am trapped here, weeping at the darkness outside. Yet it is not just for myself that I weep.

The past week it seems I have been assaulted with the news of others who are hurting–death of parents and friends, sick grandparents, cancer diagnoses, hospitalizations, heart attacks, collapse. Sleep evades me. Sometimes it is the nightmares that keep me awake, memories of my hospital stay. Other times I am so overwrought with the needs of others that I lie awake praying for them, for so many. And I search for answers. At times I search for escape, begging God to just give me one day without the news of someone hurt or sick or struggling. I want to run from it all and run far. Yet as I struggle, I realize there is only one place to run. There is only one person to run to. There is only one Savior who can rescue me. He already has.

What it boils down to is what I believe. Do I truly believe that God is sovereign even in the midst of pain? If I don’t believe that, then my God is not sovereign at all, and then He’s not God. And that’s not a God I want. God is not the author of my pain, yet He allows it. Why? Sometimes I think about the answer, and that unsettles me, too. He allows it for His glory. Seems kind of selfish to me sometimes. But at the same time, how can I question it? He is perfect, holy, wise, compassionate, kind, and glorious. Everything that happens will bring glory to Him. That’s why we were made. We weren’t made for this world and this struggle. Sin came into the world and tainted God’s glory. Jesus came into my heart and brought His glory into my life again. How can I not be a vessel of His glory whether in joy or in pain? He is God and I am not.

It is here that I realize the rest comes. It is in knowing who God is. It is in knowing that while I may not feel God’s presence, He is still there listening to my every cry and grieving with me. Immanuel, “God With Us”. That’s why He came–to be with us. Yet He was rejected before He was even born, pushed into a smelly stable to be wrapped in swaddling cloths. Can I reject Him now? Can I reject His sovereignty? I cannot. I can only cling to the truth in my mind and ask for that truth to invade my heart daily. And as I pray, I know I will find His presence and His rest. I long for that perfect rest… the long tomorrow when I will be in Heaven with the One Who rescues me today, not as an escape from this world and these trials, but as an eternal vessel for His glory–daily in His presence.

If you are a Christian suffering with great pains and losses, Jesus says, “Be of good cheer.” (John 16:33) The new house is nearly ready for you. Moving day is coming. The dark winter is about to be magically transformed into spring. One day soon you will be home–for the first time. (Randy Alcorn)