It just so happened that the day my son started his military deployment, war broke out between Israel and Hamas. In the pre-dawn darkness he waved goodbye, and a few hours later I was watching news coverage of the Hamas attack. Conflict had already been raging between Russia and Ukraine and that situation had become quite desperate. There were perhaps hundreds of other lesser known but no less volatile struggles between tribes, governments, sects, and countries playing out the day he left.

This has caused me to think more carefully about what God gave up in order to reach you and me. I’m guilty of glossing over that part of John 3:16 where it says, “God… sent His only begotten Son into the world” so I can get to the part where He offers everlasting life. But these days when I’m watching the world more closely and praying more fervently, I think about what a risk it was to send His only Son as a defenseless baby into a rough and tumble world to be cared for by faulty humans. My son is an adult who has been trained to be aware of his surroundings and potential dangers, despite my mind’s insistent memory of his panicked five-year-old face on the first day of school. But God sent his Son as a baby even though He knew full well that we were incapable of handling or understanding Him, so that in every way He would face the same trials and temptations that we do. The reason is simple. Because He also loves us with a great, longing tenderness.

If you have ever been a parent, guardian, or mentor then you know parental love. I miss my son in multiple ways, every day. The first few months of his life he cried constantly with a colic I could not seem to soothe. My husband and I walked him through sleeplessness and sickness, birthday parties, pets, and that sweet summer when his baseball team won the championship and he walked with a swagger for weeks. There are few things I wouldn’t endure to ensure his safety. But now, each day I mentally put him in God’s hands for God’s purposes. The outcome of which is up to God. At times, this feels like a place I do not want to go.

Recently, a book came to mind that I had not thought about for many years. “The Hiding Place” by Corrie Ten Boom chronicles her life as a Dutch Christian who, with her family, risked life and livelihood by hiding many Jewish people from the Nazis during World War II. Eventually her family was arrested and sent to a concentration camp. Corrie and her sister experienced unimaginable conditions: hunger, thirst, brutality, dehumanization, ridicule, threats, dangers, and filthy conditions. Ultimately Corrie’s sister and elderly father died during their confinement. Corrie evaded extermination through a clerical error and went on to be a witness for Christ in several countries.

What was striking was that Corrie did not set out to be a hero or an evangelist. She just knew she could not call herself a Christian and turn a blind eye to the discrimination and murder that was happening under Nazi rule in her hometown. The more she assisted, the more was asked of her. She found herself being led where she did not necessarily want to go as the danger of what she was doing increased. By this step by step release of what was important to her in order to embrace what was important to God, she was able to bring hope and accomplish what would seem impossible, even in Ravensbruck concentration camp while she was starving and infested with fleas.

It was Corrie who said, “Hold everything in your hands lightly, otherwise it hurts when God pries your fingers open.”

“You can never learn that Christ is all you need, until Christ is all you have.”

And this, “The measure of a life, after all, is not its duration, but its donation.”

She would know, because she lost everything in this world and still remained faithful to Jesus, even in her humiliation and grief. Because of that faithfulness, she brought rescue, hope, and the message of God’s salvation to thousands throughout her life and after her death.

No matter who you are or how good you are at controlling your circumstances, you will eventually be led where you do not want to go. Maybe it is a loved one’s sickness or disease in your own body. Maybe you have lost someone you love. Maybe something you really wanted, even something good, is not going to happen after all your efforts. Maybe you are saying a long goodbye, or maybe the goodbye did not happen and it’s too late. Maybe all the pieces you were trying to fit together have come crashing down around you in some way and hope seems to be sinking.

It might even seem like the end. But as you look around the landscape of this place where you do not want to be, there is another path. It may not look like a practical answer right now, but it is a path of no regrets. Now is the time to release what you thought you could not bear to lose and take a step toward God.

“The Lord is at hand; be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:6-7, NKJV).

While He did not promise to make every situation rosy, He did promise His peace- not the world’s fleeting peace, but a lasting peace that is beyond our comprehension or control even in our darkest moments. What are you clinging to that might be keeping you from knowing that peace?

Copyright November 2023