Why did God say "No"? Why, when He ordered you with Fatherly ferociousness to let your requests be made known unto Him, did He turn around and say no? Why would a loving Father smash your hopes and dreams about the one thing you know would make you happy? Dr. Tom is a man uniquely suited to missionary life in Cambodia. He has an obsession with sharing the Gospel and the medical skills necessary to garner a hearing in villages up and down the riverbanks and dirt roads of one of the world's poorest nations. Furthermore, in a country where you can step outside your kitchen door and find yourself face to face with a venomous viper poised to attack (as he has done), it is helpful if you have been a "snake handler" in a former life. Dr. Tom learned snakes early on. Before God sent him to Asia, he did school demonstrations about snakes. So when one blistering morning in Cambodia opened with a shriek from the second story that heralded the presence of a snake (in the trashcan, of all places), Dr. Tom ran to his wife's rescue. It ended up being the snake's rescue. That snake had gotten a little too cozy with a baby diaper and the sticky fastener of the diaper had stuck to its scales. The poor thing was having a hard time wriggling across the floor with that heavy diaper attached. Missionary life is full of humorous moments. We were their short-termers for the summer. Since neither my husband nor Dr. Tom's wife were willing to help out with the surgical procedure necessary to separate diaper from snake, I happily volunteered. You see, I have this strange quality: I like snakes. I like the way they squirm. I like the way they feel in my hands. I like their scaley, smooth sides. I think the way their little tongues go in and out is cute. My husband hates them. He is far wiser than I am. Truth be told, I only really like "safe snakes." I like snakes that I know are not poisonous, or snakes that I can handle without fear. I don't like a snake in the grass near my children's play area unless it is a teensy-tiny, science projecty, clearly non-poisonous one. Or a fake one made from clay. And, no, I don't like snakes on my plate. I wouldn't give my children a snake when they ask for fish for dinner. Would you? Neither would God. Jesus tells us that in Matthew 7:9-11: "Or what man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone? Or if he ask a fish, will he give him a serpent? If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children, how much more shall your Father which is in heaven give good things to them that ask him?" Children are foolish. In my last post I told a true tale about scissors and blood and small baby hands. Scissors are not a toy for babies. But they are a tremendous tool for those who have wisdom to use them wisely. Which brings me to my second reason of why God may have said "no" to your object of desire: maybe it is not yet time. Maybe there is some maturing that needs to take place first. Maybe you need to learn how to use the scissors. Maybe God's answer wasn't "No." Maybe it was "Wait." Trust your Father's wisdom. If He said "no," trust that when the red light finally becomes green, He has the sovereign ability to let you know. Jim Elliot DID eventually get a green light to marry Elisabeth, although for a while there things seemed iffy. And that wait produced maturity in both of them and a book titled Passion and Purity. It also gave them both some independent time on their various mission fields and all the fruit and growth that can come with that (which then gave us the book These Strange Ashes). Here is the goal: that we trust God to say "yes" or "no" or "wait." That we thank Him for red lights as well as green lights. Red lights prevent nasty crashes. As I said in Part I, Sometimes We Ask For A Stone, God sees and knows all things. He knows what things are bread for us and what things are stones. He knows whether that is a fish we are asking for or a venomous viper. He will not do you wrong. Trust the heart of your Father. MORE ABOUT GOD'S WILL:
Why would a loving Father smash your hopes and dreams about the one thing you know would make you happy? Why did God say "No"? Why, when He ordered you with Fatherly ferociousness to let your requests be made known unto Him, did He turn around and say no? Why would a loving Father smash your hopes and dreams about the one thing you know would make you happy? The other day a frightening thing happened at my house. I was busy in the kitchen, measuring and dumping flour, when my twins started a squabble. They usually play extraordinarily well together, for two two-year-old boys, but occasionally there is a mutually coveted object of desire, such as the basketball or big brother's army hat. So I didn't pay much attention at first, primarily because I was counting flour cups. (And smart mamas know that you shouldn't get approximate-ish with cups of flour in a cake recipe.) But then I heard someone say, "Oh, no! They have the scissors!" I nearly threw that cup of flour on the floor in my sudden sprint across the room toward the twins. (Smart mamas also know that you can re-count flour cups but children are irreplaceable.) They not only had a pair of scissors, the scissors were open and four chubby baby hands were gripping the blades. And these weren't the dull, rounded-tip excuse-for-scissors that you send with your kindergartner on the first day of school. These were the real, adult-style deal. I registered all of that in about three-fourths of the second it took me to get from flour to babies. David, one of my twins, was attempting to close the blades on Daniel's hands. Daniel, on the other hand, was paying no attention to that while he gripped even harder in efforts to wrench the scissors away from his twin. My friend, I saw blood. Let me leave you hanging there for a moment while I make a confession. I am a screamer. When a child is balancing on the edge of something steep and dangerous, I scream. (This is not advisable.) When one of my boys is running towards another of my boys with a pointy stick aiming directly at his eye, I scream. Anytime I am scared, or startled, or worried. . . I scream. Some women get all quiet and calm when these things happen. Not me. Not usually. Although I am working on it. So I'm sure I startled both of them by my somewhat noisy approach, which caused them to loosen their grip for a moment, which enabled me to forcibly remove Daniel's hands (now dotted with welling flecks of blood) from the blades. Then I requested the weapon from David. He gave it up willingly. (Of the two, David is far more pliant.) But when Daniel, his hands nicked and oozing, saw me put the scissors away (Way. Up. High.), he went ballistic. You would have thought I had set fire to his favorite stuffed bear. I scolded the older child who had left the scissors lying on the floor, carried Daniel upstairs and gently washed the blood off his little hands, and then I cuddled him for a long time while explaining didactically how scissors are not for babies, etc, before he finally calmed down and accepted his new scissor-less lifestyle. He had tiny nicks all over his hands, oozing with blood, and he still wanted those scissors. Foolishness is indeed bound in the heart of a child! You and I, my friend, are sometimes like Daniel. The Bible says that God is a loving Father who won't give us a stone when we ask for bread, or a snake when we ask for fish. So here is my first possible explanation for why God said no: maybe you asked for a stone. Sometimes we do this. Sometimes we ask for a stone or a snake, just like a two-year-old who cries for some wickedly sharp scissors. Because we, my dear friend, are not omniscient. We don't always know that the spouse / car / job / money we asked for is actually harmful for us. But that should not be a problem! We have a Father who IS omniscient and sees the dangers ahead that we don't see. He sees the blood that will cover our lives if we continue to fight for scissors. He sees the nicks in our souls that are already oozing because we have not yet surrendered that item to Him. We are still fighting for our coveted object of desire. Sometimes He forcibly removes things from our lives when He sees that we are too attached to them to let go on our own. Sometimes He just holds out His hand and asks us for it. Always He asks us to trust Him. Will you trust Him when He says no? Will you believe deep down in your soul that He is doing what any loving and omniscient parent would do? He is saving you from pain. Trust the heart of your Father. MORE ABOUT KNOWING GOD'S WILL:
My husband and I try to set goals every year. We have been doing this for at least the last year. Actually, we have done this before, but this year we took it a twist further. We actually (ssshhh. . . this is a secret!) READ THOSE GOALS EACH MONTH. Yes, we do. One of our goals is to read our goals. It is listed right there on our goals printout. Can I promise you that we have actually accomplished that goal for the first 9 months of this year? I can't remember, but I think we have come really close. I know this: some years I forget our goals by February. This year they are constantly on my mind. The result? We are not accomplishing all of them, no, but we have accomplished many. Part of anyone's success with goals relates to how realistic and attainable they are. That is a subject for a different post. But a good part of that also relates to keeping them constantly in front of us. Anyway, one of our goals for this year is to strengthen Christian marriages. After all, strong marriages make for strong families. Strong families will result in strong churches. And strong churches can change the landscape of a country! So we decided this year to do something really big. We are renting the Araneta Coliseum and will be holding the first annual Metro Manila Christian Marriage Conference (MMCMC). Tim will be sharing some of his stunning insights on How To Be a Fabulous Husband, and I will follow him with a session on How To Love And Respect Your Fabulous Husband. We are splitting this 50/50 in an effort to show that "Marriages Take Two To Prosper." (That, by the way, is the title of our new book, which will be released in May, 2015.) Here is a picture of our venue. We are hoping for a sell-out! Buy your tickets now at 1-800-MAR-IAGE. By the way. . . JUST KIDDING!I really hope you didn't think I was serious.
There is no MMCMC. There is also no book. There isn't even a 1-800 number. No. The reality is that we are holding weekly small group "Couples' Nights Out" at our house. We have 8 people plus us. That makes ten. Quite a difference from that stadium with the 10,000 seats. And Tim and I aren't speaking. We are using a set of DVDs that we have found very helpful. Not very BIG of a thing, right? Not something to plaster on the front of a newspaper. Not something, hardly, to write home about. But it is a big thing in God's eyes, and that is why we are doing it. And it is a success! (I know this because of the conversations we are having and the fact that we have to shoo people out our door just before midnight. Last Thursday night we were tempted to tell our guests, "Sige, we are going to bed. Have fun together and lock the door on your way out!") Everybody is enjoying these nights. (If you are one of our guests and you are reading this, please know that we would be happy to have you stay until three o'clock, if you want to. Seriously. We love you guys and LOVE being with you! Just put another pot of coffee on and enjoy. Yaaawn. Oops! 'Scuse me.) How many times do we think we have to do something BIG in order to accomplish something for the Lord? I grew up singing one of my dad's favorite songs, "Little Is Much If God Is In It." It is emblazoned on my brain that anything God asks me to do is big. . . to Him. I just need to be faithful. And we all know that little things become BIG things when they are left undone. For instance. . .
This is why smart mamas everywhere insist on doing the dishes immediately after the meal. That oatmeal that swishes right out of the pot at twenty minutes after 8:00 in the morning somehow morphs itself into a hardened gloppy monster by twenty minutes past 8:00 in the evening. Okay, back to marriages. How many times have you watched a marriage fall apart and thought, if only I had. . . (done something). How many fewer children would cry themselves to sleep at night? How many fewer divorces would litter the landscape of America? How many more family reunions would take place with 37 cousins all under the age of 16 running barefoot through the cornfields at dusk in the biggest, bestest hide-n-seek game ever? How many more watermelon-seed spitting contests? How many more happy memories for the next generation? You see? Little things, if left undone, have big consequences. And you can apply this to every area of your life. Play a little game with your son. Have a little chat with your daughter. Give your husband a little kiss. Clean that little bathroom. Bake a little cake for a sick neighbor. Pay a little credit card bill. Be a little friendlier at the grocery store. Have a little compassion for the beggar on the street. Do a little witnessing for Christ at your workplace. Use a little self-restraint at the dessert table. I've mentioned before that the entire Bible is pertinent to our lives, even Zechariah. Zechariah 4:10 has something to say about this very idea of despising the "day of small things," and speaks of the eventual rejoicing that will result from these seemingly little things. Read it and see for yourself. This is especially pertinent when you are a mom of many small children, like me, and entire days can be made up of diapers, dishes, and dirty laundry. Take the time to do something little today. It is big to the Lord. Most beautiful sight yesterday? College students walking down the middle of the road in a clothes-drenching thunderstorm, huddled beneath rainbow-hued umbrellas, reading. . . About Jesus Christ. That beats Pinterest, folks, anytime! I have to admit: it wasn't the most outwardly optimistic afternoon for an evangelistic outreach. When we drove onto the campus of the University of the Philippines, the sky was already hanging low and dark. It had been blistering hot and sunny all day. Not one of the nine of us had brought an umbrella. By the time we pulled into the parking lot, thunder was rumbling. By the time we were officially parked, lightning was flashing above us. The rain started then, first just a tiny splash or two on the windshield, but it quickly became a downpour. We stared out the windows at the watery world around us. I was the most timid among the crew. "I think we should go home," I suggested. But my husband had a crazy idea: "I'll pull up next to that covered sidewalk and someone can jump out and give tracts to all the people there!" "Yes!" our Bible college students said. "Yay!" our boys shouted. (Preteen boys don't see rain; they see a Divinely-installed sprinkler system.) The thunder crinkled and crackled like fireworks popping. I looked at the lightning streaking the sky. I looked at the metal over the sidewalk. I looked at the sheets of rain between here and there. And I felt a terrible disappointment. I had awakened at sunrise and prayed for this moment. We had prayed before we left the house. We had prayed in the car, too. . . three times! So why all this rain? But I have a husband who doesn't see storm clouds. He sees souls. So we came up with an even better plan. One of our team members recommended going down a side road to a covered place with food stalls and there try to catch people who were stranded by the rain. We would have a captive audience. It worked like a dream. My husband dropped us off where we could scurry from car to cover. Our three companions (one graduate and two students) almost immediately engaged people in gospel-driven conversations. My boys and I stood in the middle of a wind- and rain-swept sidewalk and passed out tracts. Eventually the rain diminished for awhile to a mere sprinkly annoyance and we moved to a nearby building. There I saw an older man sitting on the stairs. I pointed him out to Tim. "I'll wait in the car so you can talk to him," I offered. So we swapped roles, and I became the de facto driver of our illegally parked car. I watched him go over and sit down on the concrete steps beside the man. I watched Ian two steps above him: a college student sharing the gift of life with another college student. I watched my daughter and our two ladies, Donna and Shen, pass tracts to the college students as they walked past. And I watched secular university students walk down the middle of the road in the rain, reading about Jesus Christ. And while I sat there and watched it all, I pondered a significant verse. Ecclesiastes 11:4. He that observeth the wind shall not sow; and he that regardeth the clouds shall not reap. Because my husband and our evangelistic team refused to look at the clouds, we sowed. I have faith that we will reap also. Four people heard the gospel yesterday that wouldn't have if we had allowed foul weather to stop us. George and Chester, the two men on the stairs, were especially interested in the conversations and had many questions. Later that night, I sat in church and listened to Ian give a testimony. He put the last piece in place for me when he pointed out God's sovereignty in the form of rain. Chester, the art student he spoke with, was only there BECAUSE OF THE RAIN. He had gone there without an umbrella and thus had to wait for the Divinely-installed sprinkler system to stop before he could leave. So I say to you: Don't look at the clouds! Our circumstances may never look perfect, but God is working in the midst of them. Those un-optimistic looking circumstances may be the very tool God will use. So go today and share the gift of eternal life with someone. Sow. And reap. |
Tim and LauraTimothy and Laura Berrey are missionaries with Gospel Fellowship Association. They share a passion for missions which has taken them to several countries in Africa, Asia, and Europe. They currently minister in the Philippines. Want articles like this delivered to your inbox?
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