Youth With A Condition

Truth be told, I’ve never really liked the expression “leap of faith.” It implies that, when we take some risk in order to follow God, we leap without any idea what or Whom we’re leaping to. We think we have some idea of where God is calling us, but we’re incredibly afraid to go there. So we shut our eyes and jump feet first down a deep dark hole of uncertainty. We know we’re supposed to expect God to catch us, but for some reason we have no rational confidence in that expectation. Somehow, this reasoned, certain confidence in God’s strength is thought to be opposed to true “faith.” Our culture, even our Christian subculture, believes that faith is fundamentally irrational. Only if we have no real assurance of God’s provision can a bold step to follow Him be considered a leap of true “faith.” We’re almost expected to be surprised by God’s support when He finally meets our needs.

                  The sad thing is, this understanding of faith has the potential to paralyze a lot of people. We just don’t think we have the strength to let go with that kind of trust. We ask ourselves things like, “With all the sin I struggle with, how can I expect God to use me here?” or “I’ve already got so many responsibilities, how can I manage to take on something new?” I think we find ourselves in these mindsets because we forget that a “leap of faith” is not something we do for its own sake. Instead, we place our faith in Someone who has already proven Himself faithful.

                  In my last few posts, I’ve talked a lot about learning to rely on God. I’ve had to wrestle with a lot of new challenges lately, and some of my own weaknesses have become a lot more apparent. The more I recognize my weaknesses, though, the more I simply have to rely on God’s strength. “Apart from me, you can do nothing,” Jesus said. The more I’ve become aware of my own inadequacy, the more true this has rung for me. The “name of the game” isn’t so much cultivating my own ability as learning to rely on God.

                  The problem, though, is that this can sound exactly like the abstract “leap of faith” mentioned earlier. What does reliance on God’s proven faithfulness look like? Often, I think it looks like willingness to take risks. This isn’t for the sake of demonstrating our “blind faith” to God; rather, it’s a genuine belief that, since God has always cared for us in the past, he will continue to care for us, even when we take what the world considers “big risks” for Him. I know for a fact this can be especially challenging for people with disabilities and their families. Growing up, I was not a big risk-taker, especially when it came to pushing the boundaries of my physical condition. I knew what was too risky, what I shouldn’t dare to attempt for fear of getting hurt. To the ire of Jon, my physical therapist of ten years, this often included things as silly as walking across grass or opening doors for myself (Only in the early days though, I swear. J) As I’ve gotten older, though, I still struggle with fear in many ways, over things that are a little bit more serious than making it across the lawn. For a lot of families, though, the fear of letting go to some degree, of pushing the boundaries, is much greater. Whatever that next step is for your loved one with a disability, letting go long enough to let them take it can be terrifying. “What degree of success can we expect? Will someone get hurt? How do we know we’re ready for this?” The next step might range from greater independence in new activities of daily living to going off to college. Regardless, these same questions can run through our minds.

                  It’s at these moments that we need to remember the God we’re called to have faith in. In the Old Testament, God’s people were never expected to operate on the basis of “blind faith.” Over and over again, we see Israel setting up remembrances, memorial stones, and reminders of God’s mighty acts. These mighty acts gave Israel evidence that called for faith; that is, for unwavering confidence in the trustworthiness of God’s promises. This was the God who parted the Red Sea; this was the God who toppled the walls of Jericho; this was the God who saved the nation every time the people were forced to run to the hills. Therefore, God could be trusted to care for His children in the day to day challenges they faced. Israel’s faith wasn’t a blind leap; it was confidence in something they should have known to be a fact.

                          My question then is, hasn’t God done the same thing for us? Yes, the challenges we face are difficult. Yes, letting go and taking risks is scary. No, God hasn’t promised us that His plan doesn’t include a process where we fall on our face a few times. But, in all the little things we have come through, in all the impossible situations we’ve survived, all the mountains we’ve climbed, hasn’t God been with us? The fascinating thing is, ultimately those with disabilities are really no weaker than any other human being. All human strength is inadequate even for getting through this life. But God’s strength dwarfs all human strength by comparison, and everyone needs it. A leap of faith is not a leap into the dark; it’s a leap into the net of God’s grace, which we have every evidence will be waiting to catch us.   

I’ll be honest; if there’s one thing I can’t stand its waiting. Ask my family and they’ll be sure to tell you; whether it’s waiting for the beginning of the next exciting chapter in my life, waiting to get out of casts after surgery, waiting for a long-anticipated new book or movie to come out, right down to waiting for ice cream after dinner, patience is NOT one of my strong suits.  (Incidentally, this is why I’ve always been so fond of being allowed to cut to the front of every line at amusement parks. Even CP has its perks. J) Given my usual attitude towards waiting, I’ve had a difficult time coming to grips with a lesson I feel God has been teaching me lately. I feel like this is a season of “wait upon the Lord.”

It’s both easy and common to acknowledge intellectually that “God works on his timetable, not ours.” This is an article of faith that seems to be repeated often in evangelical circles, one of those statements that we unfortunately affirm in order to sound like “good Christians.” Yet, even though we will outwardly say what needs to be said in order to keep up our “good Christian” image, truly accepting this statement is much more difficult. Of course, we can understand if God doesn’t always give us everything we want immediately. The emotional rollercoaster of a season of waiting often leaves us asking, however, “Couldn’t He be just a little bit early?”

It’s nerve wracking.  We find ourselves filled with a profound desire, even a desperate need, for something we know God could give us. In my last post, “Trust Issues,” I talked about the uncertainty I felt as I grappled with some of these unfulfilled desires in my life. Perhaps it’s a desire to find the special companionship of the one God made for you. Perhaps it’s the need to find a job in the face of financial uncertainty. Whatever blessing it is we await, we imagine that if we had it sooner rather than later, the comfort and security would make life so much easier. Yet God doesn’t promise us perpetual earthly comfort and security. He promises to give us what we need, exactly when we need it. Our comfort and security is to come from the fact that we are under the loving care of a sovereign God. Everything He does is for our good, but that means it isn’t always immediate.

 Still, this can be very frustrating. It’s hard to understand why it seems that everything we ask for has to be accompanied by some sort of test. Why can’t God just let things fall into our laps easily and quickly once in a while? Trust me, this is a question I’ve been dealing with lately. This has been a time of transition for us, as Dad has been looking for a new job and seeking to invest more time in Need Project. Why couldn’t the solutions just happen, I wondered, without all the worrying and praying and “11^th hour” acts of provision? This has got to be something that’s just as prevalent in the lives of others with disabilities; we wait on diagnoses, improvements, and life milestones from the day we’re born, and some of us have to wonder, why all the suspense? Can’t God just “make it happen?”

These are questions I’m still wrestling with, but the more I wrestle the more I’ve come to a realization. I can’t always comprehend God, but the fact is, He’s good. He knows exactly when to bring blessings into my life (and this was my greatest realization,) not so that they’ll happen most quickly or be most convenient, but so that they’ll be the richest blessings. When we are forced to “wait upon the Lord,” we experience the most growth and dependence on Him. Not only that, but waiting prepares our hearts to receive blessing. We taste God’s goodness with a heart that has been refined by fire for the task, and long-awaited blessings are even sweeter in the tasting. So God’s timing is as much about making his blessings as sweet as possible as it is about testing and growing his children. The Bible says, “I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.” Those plans might involve waiting, but that waiting makes possible the fullness of God’s goodness. His riches are incomparable, his goodness inexhaustible, even while we wait.