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At my age,
I sometimes temper feelings of nostalgia, wishing I could start over, only with the wisdom I've acquired. I watch my brothers and sisters in this joyous family of God who have such clearly defined purposes and it's easy to give in to feelings of being “done,” as though I've been dismissed, no longer have a job, or a service to offer the Saviour.
When I turned a (ahem) certain age, the enemy easily persuaded me into feeling
like there was no point or purpose to my faith.
John 10:10 says, “The thief's purpose is to steal and kill and
destroy.” Some days, the
enemy’s primary dart to my heart is to make me feel as though I’ve sinfully let
opportunities to serve slip by, talents and gifts have been squandered and wasted, my opportunity to use them for His glory has passed. Then other days, the enemy makes me feel I ought
to just settle—as though my life, by example, is good enough witness of His
glory.
Lies. It's simply not
so. I know this to be true: The Lord has
purposed each of my days--there is no expiration date on His purpose for me--at least not until He calls me Home. I mustn't allow these lies to become lost opportunities to gain wisdom and to bring Him glory.
However discouraging this scripture may seem, bear with me for a moment. You see, I've learned that my purpose is mercurial, much like my personality, my purpose changes. My purpose is not always something I do well, and practically never something with which I'm completely comfortable. That said, this is the verse that set me to thinking on this path of God's supreme purposing of our lives.
Sorrow is better than laughter, for by a sad
countenance the heart is made better. Ecclesiastes
7:3
I challenge you to ask yourself, what has been the
most sorrow you’ve experienced, the most pain?
Those dark places that hurt so badly, those thorns that continue to pierce my heart, this is
precisely where God has revealed my soul’s true capacity. This is my purpose. This is my wisdom. My sorrow expands and deepens my soul.
Sorrow
forces me to move more slowly and considerately…to examine my motives and
attitudes. It opens within me the awareness of Heavenly life, and "sets
me afloat on the limitless sea of service" (Streams in the Desert).
Doesn't that sound divine? A limitless sea of service...who knew we could be so richly purposed?
Many of us
live casually on the outer edge of our souls, until one day a great storm of
sorrow reveals the hidden depths within, depths we never knew existed. God never uses anyone to a great degree until he breaks them completely. That, my friend is His grace. That is holy wisdom.
If you
wondering what is your purpose, look deeply inside, and confront that most
hurtful memory-that deepest scar.
It isn’t
easy. We want to appear strong and reliant, trustworthy. But God wants our
strengths to be a reflection of Him in us.
Most often we don’t realize what it means for God to be our strength
until we’ve reached that depth of sorrow, or “rock bottom” where He is our only
option. When you reach the point where you realize that God is your only
option, that you cannot count on yourself—that is your moment of
purposing. It is precisely at that moment
when your purpose is revealed. That is your own personal anointing of wisdom.
I wonder
sometimes why God “purposed” me so…fully;
leaving the comfort of my mother too soon, completely understanding the feeling
of being the minority, rape, years of brutal violence and abuse, the use of
alcohol to numb pain, poverty, the loss of a sister, estrangement of a
daughter, 20 years of solitude? Painful, yes. And each blow left indelible marks, but you know what? I have the benefit of pain, age, and anointed wisdom--How else to
glorify the Father of Light?
I cannot be overzealous in my acquisition of purpose. My intentions to please and serve the Father should never override His divine instruction. Let me share
an example which clearly indicates to me that we may sometimes be misguided about our purpose. You’ve
heard that phrase, “It seemed like a good idea at the time…”
Talking to
an acquaintance the other day—a sister in Christ. She is a leader in a
prominent outreach program/Bible Study, and expressed frustration that some of
the younger ladies in her study group, who were in dire situations-abuse,
poverty, single motherhood-just weren’t “getting” her salvation message.
Notice I
said “her” salvation message. She was so focused on her salvation message
that she neglected to consider her audience. Here she was, a
well-established grandmother in a cozy home, financially stable, in reasonably
good health, food and clothing in abundance, and had never experienced abuse,
poverty, rape, or abandonment---how relatable was she? I thought to
myself, “What right have you to become frustrated that your message isn’t
heard? You have no relatable reference point into their hearts.”
I gently
reminded her, that until we walked in another’s shoes, we have no idea HOW they
needed Jesus. Yes, we are missioned with salvation—but perhaps compassion
for this particular group of individuals was not her purpose, because that is
not where her sorrow existed.
This is what
I know, at my age. Even in the most
sorrowful moment, I am content. The
comfort of a desperately sorrowful situation is the wisdom gained. Because of these
experiences that make me relatable to others, I remember in the midst of pain,
how God has purposed, provided for me, taught me.
And like Paul says in Philippians 4:11 “Not
that I speak in regard to need, for I have learned in whatever state I am to be
content. I know how to be abased, and I
know how to abound. I can do all things
through Christ who strengthens me.” In the end, no matter what my trial, I will
have wisdom, and Yahweh will be glorified.
If you're ever, like me, feeling unsure of abilities, gifts, and what exactly you're doing right here, right now, I want to remind you: You do have
purpose, you are needed. Dig deeply--where has God brought you the most comfort? Therein lies glory...glory in your sorrow. Your wisdom, your purpose.
A poem by Maltibie D. Babcock:
"The dark
brown soil is turned
By the sharp
pointed plow
And I’ve a
lesson learned.
My life is
but a field,
Stretched
out beneath God’s sky
Some harvest
rich to yield
Where grows
the golden grain?
Where faith?
Where sympathy?
In a furrow
cut by pain."
