Faith in the Fire

Last night, my husband and I re-watched the movie Contact with our youngest daughter who had never seen it. (She was only two when it came out 20 years ago.) It’s always been one of my favorites, but I hadn’t seen it in a while; it’s not one of those movies you can turn on while doing something else. It requires concentration and focus.

depositphotos_40956519_original.jpgIt’s rather a conundrum of a story: an atheist scientist (played by Jodie Foster) is obsessed with making contact with other life-forms in the universe. She ultimately does hear something that leads her, along with the rest of the world, to a situation wherein they build a machine designed to take her to Vega, the genesis of the message. What happens there is life-altering to her, but ultimately can never be proved, because there is no video, no audio, nothing tangible which she can produce to make her claims concrete.

In a twist of fate, she, who had always scoffed at believing what she couldn’t touch, finds herself asking others to take on faith something that they find preposterous.

Watching this movie was timely for me. I firmly believe that if we allow it, God uses everything in our lives to guide us, to assure us and to inspire us . . . and after a rough few weeks, we needed a little affirmation. Because, you see–and perhaps you know this–living on faith isn’t always easy.

When my husband’s position at the church was eliminated five months ago, on Epiphany, we were in shock, we were hurt and we were reeling. We’d been abruptly and without warning cut off not only from his ministry and his job, but also from the church we’d been attending for seven years. The rhythm of our lives was destroyed, and we couldn’t see the future.

However, underpinning of all of these feelings was a foundation of faith. First of all, in the week leading to Christmas last year, we had fasted together, praying that God would lead us, open doors and show us His plan. Now, this wasn’t particularly the outcome we had anticipated, but it was undeniably His path. Several other things happened that made it clear that He had gone ahead of us, as He promises (more on that in another post).

But of course, we had immediate needs, too. The knee-jerk reaction to losing a job is usually to find another one, right? But I felt very strongly that God was asking us to do something new. So instead of jumping into a new church, a new chaplaincy position or anything else, we purposed to wait on Him, to see where He is leading.

To say it hasn’t been easy is a gross understatement. These five months have been painful on a level we haven’t experienced in a very long time. There have been personal hurts, as those we thought of as spiritual brothers and sisters struck out in attacks that leave me breathless–and not in a good way. There have been days when God has seemed silent, and Clint struggled, wondering if he was hearing God at all. There have been days that are so painfully empty, they echo.

In addition to that, having no reliable income has been a challenge. Thanks to a royalty check in February, we were all right for a while, but the longer we are unemployed, the harder it becomes, as anyone who has been through this can tell you. My own book sales, which we’ve hoped would rise to help sustain us, haven’t been great, and there is quite a gap between what I earn each month and what our bills require.

This is me being brutally honest, folks. I’d love to be able to report that God provided so mightily that we never had a worry. I’d love to say no bill has been late or unpaid. I’d love to say we’ve gone from the strength to strength. But that’s not the case. It doesn’t mean God isn’t faithful–He is. It doesn’t mean we don’t trust–we do. But this is the kind of faith that the world really can’t understand. It’s a faith that is at war with our rational selves, and it’s contrary to American cultural.

You see, the hard truth is that in this country and this age, we support faith in God for some things, but when it comes to money–that makes us uncomfortable. We’ve definitely learned this in the past months. People want Clint to have a job. They want him to be employed. When we say we’re trying to be faithful to God’s call and that means not seeking paid employment just now, they sometimes become agitated. They don’t like it.

And in God’s economy, when He provides, he doesn’t simply cover one need. Usually, in our experience at least, He provides using another person to minister to him or her and He makes sure we can see His hand in the provision . . . and He teaches us something else, too. Because, you see, the point isn’t the provision–it’s the trust.

I don’t believe God wants us to be living moment to moment because He’s capricious. This is an exercise in growing us. He wants us to rely on HIM, not on jobs, salaries, health insurance, royalty checks or anything else. He is a bountiful God, and His desire is for our growth and our well-being.

I remind myself of that on days when I can’t see how things are going to get better. Right now, I can’t see how bills are going to be paid next week. Right now, the coffers are pitifully empty. Clint’s looked for jobs, and all we’ve gotten back are tumbleweeds; it is glaringly obvious to me that God wants him to continue in this ministry to those to whom no one else is reaching.

(If you want to see what we’re doing, check out The Community Chaplain on the website or on Facebook.)

BUT . . . God is good. Will the bills be paid? Maybe . . . and maybe not. I don’t delude myself into thinking I know what He knows or see what He sees. His plan is greater, and that’s where my faith has to be anchored. If God doesn’t provide as we hope He will, and if we end up living on the street, does that mean our faith is misplaced? No. It means we haven’t seen the end of the plan yet. Will we like it? Probably not. But it doesn’t mean our faith is wrong or that His promises are empty.

I can’t explain this kind of faith. It reminds me of an exchange from the movie last night:

Palmer Joss:
Did you love your father?

Ellie Arroway:
What?

Palmer Joss:
Your dad. Did you love him?

Ellie Arroway:
Yes, very much.

Palmer Joss:
Prove it.

Like love, faith is one of those glorious intangible. I can’t prove it. But I can trust it, and I can believe.

I hope you will, too.

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