“Let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season, we will reap if we do not give up” Galatians 6:9
A few weeks ago, a good friend of mine stopped by our residence to visit. After a minute or two of conversation, he made an assumption that life was “easy” at the Assunto house. Perceiving a story lived by the tail, notes were taken on the toys in the garage, the neighborhood occupied, pictures of success on the web and other material flashes leading to a judgement of the book by its cover, and a conclusion that life must be good.
What the audience didn’t see was the insipid biographical film taking place behind the curtain. He didn’t see how many times the possessions were sold and how many times the windows were replaced. He didn’t see the moments spent on our knees praying the numbers would work out, or how many times my eyes would water the minute we discussed our position on the field. He didn’t see the number of times we passed on going to the grocery store to use what was already in the pantry and how many no-thank-yous’ were extended before an actual “yes” was vocalized. Or how many times prayers were answered on a clock that kept me in the valley, well beyond any fictitious comfort zone would ever be inhabited. How many times God was faithful in His timing, but not mine, and how many times this “good life” was actually put on the market for the lowest bidder to acquire.
It is only after the sweeping loss that the words “it is well” can be spoken. Understanding I was never created to carry the defeat beyond the Cross, my relationship with Christ Almighty exists absurdly past the outline of small groups, Wednesday’s teaching and Sunday’s attendance. It is only in the depth of the calling and the fortitude to hold on to the sides, as the waves crest above my head, that I can exclaim “then sings my soul.” It is only when I am tired and weary and ready to throw in the towel that a comprehension of God’s faithfulness comes to fruition. His infinite perfection, unrestricted awareness of my surroundings and divine knowledge of my situation proclaims pain and failure are redeemed no matter what the scoreboard says.
Looking back as long as this 50-year-old mind will allow, He has been there at every turn, in every valley and on every mountaintop. In every scraped knee and prideful bloody fall, He resides. Face down three feet short of the finish line and standing in knee deep water in the back of the cockpit, He alone remains worthy. It is in these moments of deterioration and collapse that I realize just how strong the house’s foundation really is, and its ability to stand on the promises of Jesus Christ weathering life’s inevitable storms as He faithfully continues to guide me on this journey home.
