I believe in the sovereignty of God. I mean, I've heard it all my life. I've read about it in Scripture countless times. I even wrote a blog post about it the other week. I've got that one down pat, right? "Just remember, when chaos comes, look to the throne sitting over that calm, calm sea!"
Um... well, in the interest of full disclosure, that's not always the way it goes. I'm a sinner just like the rest of you, and I struggle to believe just like every other pilgrim on this journey. I can write a confident blog post one day about the God who controls our chaos, and only a few days later, I can completely forget to believe those very words and react wrongly when things don't go according to plan. Case in point:
Last Saturday (all of 3 days after said blog post), we took a much anticipated trip to Niagara-on-the-Lake to watch a couple of 1812 battle reenactments and enjoy the day together as a family. We got away a little later than planned, and then hit heavy traffic which turned the 1.5 hour drive into almost 3 hours, so we arrived just as the first battle was beginning. Selfless creature that I am (ha! read on to see how true that one is), I volunteered to drop everyone off and find a parking spot, figuring that I'd rejoin the family quickly. Unfortunately, by the time I'd found a spot and had run most of the way back to the event, it was just wrapping up. I'd missed it. I was quite disappointed, but tried to console myself with the thought that there was another battle coming later in the day. We spent about a hour lounging peacefully by the sea, but the inner turmoil was quietly brewing. Then began a series of unexpected and/or irritating little events that churned that inner turmoil up into a full-blown emotional thunder storm, just waiting to burst. I'm pretty sure that Nathan had noticed that I was NOT okay, but I thought to myself that I could keep things under control. That is, until we were not able to get close enough to the second battle to see things very well, and at precisely the same time as I realized this, my 4-year-old dropped a "very important" paper toy he'd made into a hole where it was irretrievable. He started into a fit, and that was the last straw. There were no thrones or calm seas or any thoughts really related to God at all in my head or heart... Just anger and selfishness, and a grown woman kept from an all-out childish temper tantrum only by the very public surroundings I was in. I'm pretty sure that if it would not have resulted in hundreds of eyes staring at me as I was carried out by a security guard, I would have thrown myself down on the grass and kicked and screamed through angry tears. As it was, I managed to hold back the flood gates (mostly), but my thoughts were just as sinful as the actions would have been.
Thankfully, God did not leave me there. He gave me a husband who patiently called me back to reality. He gave me eyes to see what ugly creatures were residing in that heart of mine. He gave me eyes to see how much I am still very much in need of a Saviour. And He has given me eyes to see that the penalty for my heart's temper tantrum is already paid. I'm forgiven.
But the point remains that my initial response to the chaos was not faith, but unbelief. And as Dane Ortlund says, in his excellent book Defiant Grace:
"Isn't what first pops out of us when a trial washes over us the truest indicator of the actual state of our hearts--the way we react before we have time to catch ourselves and pass our response through the filter of how we want others to perceive us? As C.S. Lewis put it, 'If there are rats in a cellar you are most likely to see them if you go in very suddenly. But the suddenness does not create the rats; it only prevents them from hiding.'"
Perhaps it's ironic that I had just read that paragraph Saturday morning before the trial. And yet still, the cellar rats came out to play. Oh, that my heart might truly believe what is true, and respond with faith at the get-go!
Lord, I believe! Help my unbelief!
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