“No less God within the shadows; no less faithful when the night leads me astray” Psalm 120-134, Songs of Ascent
Those that know me best, understand that perhaps one of my greatest languages of love is gift giving. Even before I was a Christian, giving just came naturally. If there was a need and I had the means to help, you could consider it done. But as I have come to know Christ, my motive for doing so has not always been pure. I have been guilty of giving in hopes of gaining God’s favor and it has been a personal folly to think that the bigger the gift, the more favor that act might yield. While I would defend my past actions from any resemblance of a health and wealth gospel, I would be remiss in my attempts to make you believe the giving was always easy, selfless and of great cheer.
Several months ago, a few friends reached out needing support for a mission trip. The amount was hefty and at the time, our bank account told the story of uncharted growth within the business and little doubt in having the capital to cover the bulk of the trip and their reason for going. Volunteers stepped forward, plane tickets were purchased, building materials were secured and Central America sat just over the horizon. Within 60 days of my check being cashed, a six-figure accounting error reared its ugly head. On top of that, another customer delayed their payment to us on equipment that had been sold and delivered three months prior. As if that were not enough, a manufacturer shipped a faulty product to one of our biggest customers and left my team holding the bag. Falling back on my own logic, personal items I cared about began hitting the market. I purchased another for-sale sign for my house and began to look for whatever was not planted in the ground, to list in the classified section. In typical Christlike fashion nothing would sell. Nothing would move and even low-ball-offers seemed to be non-existent. Money in the checking account evaporated at an alarming rate and my own family even began to question the voice I heard as I held fast to God’s call while enduring the current desert in play.
The story of Noah reminds me of the faithfulness required to obediently listen to God’s voice and undergo ridicule, at the same time, as a boat was built in a land where water had been scarce for many years. I’m positive the peanut-gallery was alive and well poking fun at Noah’s expense, ignoring his warnings of the impending disaster headed their way. Then, there’s the story of Job. He was a righteous man and had wealth in droves. He also had tragedy in droves and his story reminds me to stand firm in that obedience and the surpassing knowledge, even when your colleagues and well-meaning family are encouraging you to take a break from the race. Truth be told, I wish to be neither, not having an ounce of desire to suffer through the things Job lost, and fearful of how less of a man I might feel like if I had to tolerate the mockery of Noah building an ark on a piece of parched earth. But unfortunately, there have been mountains in my way and more than once has the appearance of an impasse been current.
As stories of restoration radiate from the mission fields in Panama, feelings of doubt radiate from the streets in Hardin County. Concerned with where God’s call, this time, might actually leave me, has opened the door for Satan’s attacks and a fear of the dark, and while some of these shadows are still a little more uncomfortable than I would prefer, a whisper in this 2am hour reminds that God has crushed the serpent’s head and persists in being faithful with His encouragement to press on towards the finish line. I’m learning the immeasurable value of living in the middle of the road and of His faithfulness in raising these dry bones to life, in the valley and on the mountain top. He has remained no less faithful in both geographical locations and as another week of unknowns stare me in the face, my feet survive firmly planted counting everything else as garbage compared to gaining Christ and becoming one with Him.
