Sometimes I find myself sitting quietly and staring off into space. It’s not that there aren’t a million and one things to do to keep me busy. It’s not that I’m just being lazy or bored. It’s that I get a little bit overwhelmed. Okay, I get more than a little bit overwhelmed.
In moments like these, I hear myself talking to God and asking in the silence of my own heart a question I almost dare not voice out loud. “God,” I hear myself ask, “I’m doing all the believing; I’m doing all the performing; I’m doing all the acting in faith; I’m taking you at your word and trusting that your promises are true and applicable not just in the here and now in general, but for me in particular in this situation; I seem to be doing all the work of faith– trusting even when things don’t seem to be working out well–I’m doing all this work trying to stay positive for myself and everybody else, but God, what are you doing?”
I don’t mean it as an accusation but as a real question. Sometimes, the heart asks real questions like that. Sometimes, the heart just wants to catch up with the head. I know my Father loves me. I know because He is good, His every inclination towards me is good and loving, but sometimes, even though I know that with my head, I wonder in my heart. I wonder what God is up to when what I expect and hope for doesn’t materialize even though I’m doing every thing I think I ought to be doing.
Once, when I was a child, I went fishing with my stepfather. He told me he would take me fishing. He promised, and he did take me fishing. He took me to the river on the Alabama side, down below the dam, across from the old cotton mill. We parked behind the abandoned Hardee’s restaurant where you could still see all the equipment through the cloudy, dirty windows. We climbed down the embankment slick with clay and mud. We walked along, swatting the underbrush and mosquitoes with our hands. We came to the riverbank.
There he handed me the one fishing pole we’d brought with us. He made me bait the hook, and cast it into the river, and learn to sit patiently and wait for the bait to do its job. Then I had to reel in the fish, and take the fish off the hook (and learn that catfish barbs sting!). Then, I had to gut and clean the fish. All by myself!
I thought when he said he was going to take me fishing that he was going to do all the work and I was going to play on the beach and in the water. I thought I was going to have all the fun and he was going to do all the work, but he made me do all the work. I asked him, “Daddy, I thought you were going to take me fishing; how come you made me do all the work?”
Sometimes, we think that faith in a promise means we’re going to get all the benefits of the promise without effort on our part, but what I learned from my stepdad, and what I am relearning from God, is that the reward of faith is not met expectations, the reward of faith is relationship.
The reward of faith in God is not that I get everything I want without effort, but that I get to know and experience and love and be loved by the infinitely glorious and wonderful Creator of the universe. The reward of faith is a mutually satisfying, contentment producing, outlook changing, heart mending, spirit lifting, direction setting, hope generating, strength giving relationship with unconditional Love Himself.
My dad took me to the river and taught me to fish. And he taught me how to be present and enjoy the company of someone who loves me, even though I was busy with a specific set of tasks. He made a promise to take me fishing, but more than that he made a promise to be with me, and to make the time together beneficial for me in a lasting way. He made a promise to simply be there and include me in his life.
The reward of faith in his promise was not an effortless play date geared solely for my pleasure but a meaningful, worthwhile relationship geared for character and joy.
Faith in God is not different than that in this respect. Faith is not some spiritual currency we pay to consume temporary benefits that feed our desire for pleasures. Faith in God is not about some divine transaction where we insert faith into the vending machine god who provides “stuff” and we get what we pay for in kind and quantity. Listen, when people think of God only on those terms, it is no wonder they are disappointed, because the reward of faith in God is not a consumable commodity but a genuine relationship.
God, who loves me, who loves you, works always not to make us fat with things but to satisfy us with Himself. Honestly, I think that is great news!
Each month a member of the Cook County Ministerium will offer Spiritual Reflections. Pastor Dale McIntire has served as pastor of the Cornerstone Community Church in Grand Marais since April of 1995.
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