My security stripped quickly as the view of my bank account shifts from half full to half empty. Uncertainty rears its uncontrollable head as the future, seemingly bright, now appears grimmer than expected. Was my hope in a job? Oh my soul, it ought not to be so. Christ, the comforter, the perfect redeemer, relegated to the bench, called on to keep me in the game until the starter is ready to return. How could I be so foolish?
Habakkuk once cried to God as if he were wiser than the Creator. Job sobbed as if He know better God's purpose based on circumstances. Miserable comforters were both men surrounded by that would not preach the truth above circumstance. Lest I forget the wrestling match between God and Jacob. A greater man was Jacob than I, no doubt more courageous, only to succumb to a limp given by the Lord, a reminder of His providence and the necessity of our trust. For if God is for us, who can be against us?
Thomas Brooks once said that the hand of God is often against the man with whom God favors. Am I so foolish to relegate the love of God to my circumstances? Does that put my provision, my perception, of God's goodness as circumstantial to my approval of His handling? Who am I to equate God's goodness, His providence, with any of my circumstances? A Savior, our Savior, hung on a rotting tree. Who am I to abandon His fertile soil in times of drought?
What is it in my heart that longs for predictability? Oh my soul, do not be so foolish to equate predictability with self-control. A devilish answer that is, and one that seeks the word of God for my own benefit. If the word were to benefit anyone in this world, who better than the Son? Not even He deemed equality with God as something to obtain; however, I long to use God's word to better my circumstances? Foolish man that I am.
Glory to God that His word wounds me. I would rather limp the race on God's path than spirit toward damnation with ease. Predictability is meaningless in a world of evil. Who am I to seek happiness? Do I deserve better than perfection? Yet even the Son was killed for our resurrection.
Consider the foolishness of the claim that our circumstances are worse today than yesterday. Many days ago, the world watched a perfect man flogged, given a crown of thorns, and hung on a cross to appease our horrific desire to no longer feel inferior. Though we might admit we are inadequate in the most profound realm of our wretched soul, we would rather march to Hell smothering that voice than have to witness perfection any longer. I would have to assume, knowing how inept my heart is at understanding anything that the Lord does not reveal to me as if I were a child, that the day after the body of the Son was relocated to a tomb would have been, in my unwise eyes, a day that was worse than the day before when He was alive.
Stripped of worldly security leads to what? Insecurity? By no means does this have to be so. Strip a dog of its leash and does the dog lose security? Perhaps, in our eyes, it does. But it merely means we have lost control, not the dog. Remove the leash from the dog and he is free. Remove my security in this world, the leash on which the devil walks me. I would rather be hit by a car in your freedom than safely walk down a path to Hell.
In this hardship, God will prevail. Oh my soul, you have not lost security. You have merely learned, once again, that the only eternal security we have the extends beyond any physical, emotional, spiritual, and intellectual realm is the blood Christ shed on the cross. That glass is not half full but full because He drank the cup to fill the cup with His blood then, so we might be free when we drink of the same cup. He is security we do not deserve and the security that cannot become insecure in a world of insecurities.