Staring at Despair

I wonder if every time Peter faced a test if he questioned whether it was all related back to his failure with Jesus? What do you do with tests of faith, or tests that seem directed right at your character?

I was thinking about that today while I was working. This financial set back feels like a test. Sunday morning at church we knew that we were going to be challenged to consider a Faith Promise commitment to support our missionaries in Mexico. Nelson and I talked about it and felt that we wanted to work more on being consistent with our tithe and offerings. But as we sat in church we both felt led to commit a substantial amount. He filled out the card and I beamed at the spiritual sensitivity and leadership of this wonderful man I married. Then Monday BWC called and stated they were canceling Nelson’s benefits.

So I was wondering: how fast do your tests come at you? To test your resolve? To test your commitment? To test…you?

Mine seem to come fast and furious. And as I was working there on the stud press machine this morning I feel like I stared despair in the face. It seemed so unfair that our desire was to give and in a blink our resources were chopped down. I had too much time in my head. Everything began to look bleak and then black.

So I looked up despair:
To be overcome by a sense of futility or defeat.
A state in which everything seems wrong and will turn out badly.

That pretty much sums it up. Nothing looks like it’s going to improve for Nelson. Due to this accident he has become morbidly obese limiting even further the limitations of his ability to be mobile. Watching him is literally breaking my heart. It’s wrong, wrong, wrong.

As I stood there putting bolts in hubs, I thought more about Peter and more about the conversation I had that got me dreaming again. My hands hurt, but my heart ached more. I love speaking. I love teaching. God gifted me that way. He used me that way. Then I screwed up. I failed a huge, huge test. And it was taken away. But not all of it. The opportunities have been taken away from me, but the desire has only grown. I just want to scream out: “Put me in, Coach!”

The ache of futility bashed against me in tsunami size waves. I knew that the financial reversals were no greater test than this moment of despair. How was I going to deal with this?

In that moment I was reminded of David’s prayer that God would restore the joy of His salvation. I stood at the crossroad of despair that could lead down the path of Judas—to suicide and the Way of hope that leads to life. I understood in that instant how someone could chose to take path of despair. Hope seemed like a lot of work and a lot of work that right then only seemed to be leading to emptiness.
I let the words roll around in my head. I clung to Paul’s admonition to think on these things (Philippians 4:8). And it became clearer and clearer that the joy David prayed for wasn’t a feeling. He wasn’t asking to be happy. Happiness is too dependent upon circumstances. David was crying out, crying out from his shame and despair to be restored to relationship with God. That relationship is the only thing that can bring joy.

I stared at despair today, but I didn’t stay there. I lifted my eyes and headed my feet down the Way of hope. It’s not an easy road. It won’t always make sense in the moment. But it’s the only way I know to go. And if along the way I’m able to use my gifts and talents to bless others and honor God, then that’s enough. It’s a gift and I will be grateful or it.

Some things still seem wrong. I don’t understand all the pieces. But I know, deep in my being, that I only have a limited view of what’s really going on. I’m going to trust that one, trust it every step of the way. I figure that must be the way Peter faced those tests, too.