Expectant Faith

That dreaded five year mark of losing my little boy has been looming, lurking at me from around a dark corner. It’s weird really. Five years? How can it be that five whole years have gone by when I can still hear his laughter so clearly? His memory is still so fresh, his life still so full in mine that it doesn’t seem possible that so much time has passed.

But then the searing pain of the last years sometimes drowns out the sweeter memories and I swear its been decades since I’ve held him, looked into his eyes, laughed at his spunky humor. Five years in grief years is practically a century. And it takes a toll… physically, emotionally, mentally. Grief wears you down. It ages you. Our earthly bodies aren’t designed to carry the stress of losing a child. While I have lived the goodness of God through loss in beautiful ways, there is still no way around it: grief is an ugly, unwanted torment.

That first year after Mason died, when I wasn’t sure how I was going to get out of bed and continue to function each day, we spent much of our homeschool days reading some pretty exceptional books. Among these were missionary biographies and we found ourselves so encouraged by the bold faith of those such as George Muller and Brother Andrew and the miraculous provision they experienced as a result of devoted prayer. 

My daughter Ella heads to India this week for a mission’s trip with her dad.

She was responsible for raising quite a large sum of money to cover the cost of her trip. Inspired and challenged by the lives of faith we have read about over the years, she decided she wouldn’t ask anyone for money but trust the Lord to provide. It was a scary step to take.

And something beautiful happened that really shouldn’t have been a surprise: God provided almost to the penny exactly what Ella needed. It was so exciting to see money come in from completely unexpected places.

20 plus years ago when I first traveled to India I also had to raise a large chunk of change. I decided back then I wouldn’t ask for money. I did a few fundraisers, including a garage sale that garnered so many donations our yard looked like a shanty town and my parents may or may not have been hiding in their room fighting anxiety attacks.

Even then I remember saying, “Well, if I don’t raise enough money I can always sell my car to pay for the trip.”

I was trusting the Lord to provide. And yet, I had a back-up plan. 

Just in case he doesn’t supply what I need, I can still get the money.

I thought I was stepping out in faith, but really, I was a bit of a coward. 

I’ve lived much of life that way, with back-up plans. Not intentionally, I don’t think. Almost subconsciously, I was planning and preparing. It’s easy to do in this comfortably affluent country where my needs were met and things were basically easy. I believe in the promises of God but I think I’ve always had a pretty soft cushion to fall back on, just in case…

That is, until death came in and took what was precious to me. No back-up plan can fix  that. 

I was reading George Muller’s biography again after all these years to Griffin the other night. (I still get emotional when reading of the day the orphanage had no food for breakfast so George stood up and prayed and thanked God for providing. And right outside the door was the baker and the broken down milk truck) Anthony overheard some of it and observed, “George Muller’s life never really got easy.” 

He never hit that magical place that said, now you can rest easy. You don’t have to keep praying for daily provision anymore! The needs of thousands of orphans are all set and you no longer have to wonder where tomorrow’s meal will come from.

No, it was a daily step of faith for him. And that step always began on his knees. He never doubted and always prayed. His faith was solidified and strengthened as he watched the miraculous happen on a daily basis.

The pantry and the bank account were never too full. And he never asked for money. Just like the Israelites and the manna, he had to rely on the Lord and his new mercies every. single. day.

His ministry didn’t just begin this way. It was sustained this way. 

The beautiful testimony of Muller and many other missionaries is that they didn’t live where it was comfortable and predictable. They stepped out. They did brave things. Maybe even crazy things. Certainly unconventional and what the world may consider foolish and unnecessary. Not for their glory but for God’s. Not for this world but for a better one.

Sometimes reading these accounts can be so exciting. So joy-filled and inspiring, with an everything-works-out-great perspective. 

But faith played out in life.. real, gritty faith… typically is not rose colored and easy sailing. It doesn’t involve a back-up plan and isn’t usually surrounded by a life of ease. We can read Hebrews 11 and know that faith like this has a gloriously happy ending. But the reality is that the living in it, persevering in it, can be hard. And often what we believe in faith, we don’t even get to see but welcome from afar. 

Faith is not hoping God will do what you want him to but knowing He will do what he has promised to do.

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Hebrews 11:1

It took the tragedy of losing my son to realize what true hope is. The conviction of eternity has shaped my faith more over these past years than all the sermons I’ve heard and books I’ve read on the subject.

This conviction and hope doesn’t exist just to get me through this life. This faith exists because I am called to battle in this life.  

I have learned there is much to overcome in this world. Sometimes its shocking and debilitating pain, other times its apathy and passivity. It is a battlefield where the assailants are often sneaky and their tactics are calculated. Seemingly subtle yet debilitating and deadly. My attacker wants to find me tired, overwhelmed, indifferent, apathetic, distracted and most importantly, not grounded in the word of God. Then, things like anxiety and depression and fear and entitlement can seep in and grab hold.

Living in the shadow of death has brought me much clarity. I have seen the Lord increase my faith and my joy as I rest in his sovereignty. I have grown more in faith and less in personal dependency. I have let go of some things to cling to better things.

“And this is the victory that has overcome the world- our faith.” I John 4:15

We are over-comers. Through our faith. And when I watch my daughter take a huge step without a back-up plan it encourages me to step out and fight harder for what matters for eternity. 

Because this is what we are called to do. Contend for the faith (Jude 1:3) Battle for what is true and pure. Step out and believe the Lord will move.

I often think of these girls at Mason’s Place and wonder what their story would be if mine hadn’t have been so tragic. This trip Ella is taking with Anthony happens to coincide with the 5 year anniversary of losing Mason. But instead of that date being all about pain and loss and grief, it is also about hope and redemption and faith. God is doing amazing things in India. And even as the obstacles increase and the environment for Christians becomes increasingly more hostile, we move forward and fight in faith. 

So as Ella steps through the gate of Mason’s Place and hears the laughter of 121 girls who call it home, I pray her faith is strengthened and fortified. And that the awful memories she lived 5 years ago as a 9 year-old girl would be shaped by the tool of her faith to see the beauty of God in loss and pain. I pray she sees how her faith has overcome much in the world and I pray that victory becomes a theme in her life.

May our faith increase. May our faith feed our hope. May our faith battle for the kingdom. May our faith be of great conviction for something better, something unseen, something eternal. 

“According to your faith, be it done to you.” Matthew 9:29

If it be according to my faith, may my faith be grand and expectant.