A little over a year ago I sat with a mom as she spoke of her daughter who seemed beyond hope. It was a pretty typical story. I left weeping, blogged about (that sounds so uncaring but it wasn’t… read here) , thought of her some in the following year but never heard much more. I often wondered. Sadly when you hear as many stories as I do you start to loose hope. You start to feel like the world is winning and Satan is just more powerful.
Then I got an email out of the blue and a year later and was sitting across the table from a bright eyed beautiful girl who had fully surrendered her life to Christ. Another prodigal come home. I thought how good God was. I stared in awe at a living breathing image of the power of the cross, truth, and the blood of Christ.
But even in the midst of triumph I feel fear. I sat last week with my best friend and we were wondering how we keep our kids from this world. We were debating public or private, homeschool or farm far far away…. and our kids are all under 3. Fear sometimes rules my world. It rules my parenting, it rules my marriage, and it keeps me from moving forward. It isn’t even unmerited fear, I meet a lot of high school girls and I haven’t heard enough come back stories. I fully believe in the power of God but I also fully see the power of Satan in a culture that swallows lies about as much as we swallow big macs and when I scroll through the news it seems I only feel pain radiating from a world that needs Jesus.
So my challenge is to live in fear or believe Jesus is our hope even when life feels hopeless. Believe he can mend hearts, bring prodigals home, and keep my own little ones in the protection of his arms. Believe that he cares even when it seems he has gone silent. Believe he is worth the cost and the only “payout” i’ll receive will be in heaven. There is a story I read recently when Jesus started teaching the hard stuff, the confusing stuff many of his followers started to walk away, so he turned to his disciples and said, will you go too? (John 6:67)
There answer was so beautifully human, “to whom shall we go?” They knew and they believed and because of that they could not walk away.
So many days I just have to come to terms that while I don’t understand everything (and never will) I do understand there is only one place to go. There is only one worthy of my affection and my attention. There is only one who heals wounds, puts lives back together, and gives tremendous hope in the midst of horrible circumstances.
I know where to go. Even when the prodigals don’t run home, when the injustices against women in children stack up a mile high, when my own life seems out of sorts.
To whom shall I go? Straight into the arms of the one who gave me everything I would ever need at the cross.