Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and you will delight in the richest of fare. Give ear and come to me; listen, that you may live. I will make an everlasting covenant with you…
Isaiah 55:1-3
When he takes it all away,
will we love him more than things,
more than health,
more than family,
and more than life?
That’s the question.
That’s the warning.
That’s the wonderful invitation.
~John Piper in “I Was Warned By Job This Morning”
We all have recently lived through a time when the freedoms we take for granted – our jobs, education, corporate worship, visiting easily with extended family and friends, our desire to go where we wish when we wish – were challenged due to the threat of a packet of viral RNA invading our bodies and wreaking havoc.
Though that threat has largely passed, what we lost during those years still lingers – financial security, educational and career progress. Many are now chronically ill due to the virus, but most painful, we experienced the death of millions of loved ones.
The Book of Job is a warning about losing everything – what we have strived for, cared about, loved and valued suddenly taken away. If we are stripped bare naked, nothing left but our love for God and His sovereign power over our lives, will we still worship His Name, inhale His Word like air itself, submit ourselves to His plan over our plan?
I know I fall far short of the mark. It takes only small obstacles or losses to trip me up so I stagger in my faith, trying futilely to not lose my balance, and fall flat-faced and immobilized.
Just recently, people I love are confronting this reality in their own lives. When I’ve seen people lose almost everything, either in a disaster, or an accident, or devastating illness like cancer or COVID-19, I’ve looked hard at myself and asked if I could sustain such loss in my life and still turn myself over to the will of God.
I would surely plead for reprieve and ask the horribly desperate question, “why me?”,
girding myself for the response:
“and why not you?”
The invitation, scary and radical as it is, is from God straight to my heart, asking that I trust His plan for my own and my loved ones’ life and death. This trust is crucial to my faith, no matter what happens, no matter how much suffering, no matter how much, like Christ in the garden, I plead that it work out differently, and not hurt so much.
The invitation to His plan for my life has been written, personally carried to me by His Son, and lies ready in my hands, even if I’m wary of opening it. It is now up to me to read it carefully, and with deep gratitude that I am even included, respond with an RSVP that says emphatically, “I’ll be there! Nothing could keep me away.”
Or I could leave it untouched and unread, fearing it is too scary to open. Or even toss it away altogether, thinking the invitation really wasn’t meant for me.
Even if, in my heart, I knew it was.
Make a one-time or recurring donation to support daily Barnstorming posts
Make a monthly donation
Make a yearly donation
Choose an amount
Or enter a custom amount
Your contribution is deeply appreciated.
Your contribution is appreciated.
Your contribution is appreciated.
DonateDonate monthlyDonate yearly