Nothing is Impossible With God | Dreaming Beneath the Spires
John hears Jesus’s last words. He sees Jesus absolutely dead, blood and water issuing from his heart. He goes to bed, I imagine, shattered beyond grief—rent with the horror and guilt and unimaginable agony I would feel if I saw that happen to my husband or father or child. Talk of post-traumatic stress!
And then, and then–two days later, he enters the grave, and sees the burial cloth that had been around Jesus’ head folded up by itself. Neatly, orderly.
And he says simply in the third person, “He saw and believed.”
That Jesus was resurrected.
And, surely, his world exploded. Anything was possible, as Jesus had said so often. Miracles, magic. “Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?” Jesus had said, just a week ago!! “Everything is possible for one who believes.” (Mark 9:23).
* * *
“All things are possible if you believe.” The believing comes before the impossible becomes possible.
After years of being in and leading women’s small groups, I often wonder if we all have a compartmentalised faith—areas in which we find it easy to trust and believe God, and areas in which we find it hard.
It’s relatively easy for me to trust God with my finances; I believe he is the river of abundance, and it’s not hard for me (in general) to believe he’ll replenish my stores.
In February, I had a cancer scare, and had a biopsy. On the day I was told of the abnormal ultrasound results, fear gripped my heart: fear of chemotherapy mostly, and also of death before my children are safely grown up, or before I have fulfilled my dream of writing. “Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain,” as John Keats said. I realised that I had a choice to trust or be afraid. I decided on faith to trust and peace possessed my heart. I basically almost forgot about the biopsy and went on writing. Just as well, as it took 4 weeks to receive the biopsy result—which was normal!!
But there are things for which I pray, and it’s just words. I have little faith in my heart that what I pray for will come to pass, though I know Jesus said, Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.” Matt. 17:20.
· * *
The dead Jesus walks. He has neatly folded the cloth covering his head.
All things are now possible for them for believe.
But yet not all our prayers are answered affirmatively. Sometimes the answer to prayer is No.
Jacob wrestles with God, refusing to let God go, unless he is blessed. And so God blesses him.
A limp to slow down the self-sufficient, manipulative, scheming Jacob. A child will be able to out-run him. He will tire easily. He will not be able to oversee everything himself. He will have to depend on others. And on God.
Paul is given a thorn in the flesh, so that he will have to get through his day and his life relying on God’s grace which is sufficient. On God’s power made perfect in weakness.
My limp and thorn is my rapidly declining physical fitness. My battles with weight.
And I don’t know what to do!! Should I accept it as God’s will? A thorn, a limp to keep me humble? To remind me of my sin, weakness and limitations?
Yes, my life-long habit of comfort-eating, and my life-long dislike of doing anything more active than reading or writing are thorns in the flesh. I will always need God’s help to overcome them.
But being over-weight, and, consequently, being physically weak and unfit and easily fatigued–I cannot believe that those are God’s will for me (though less energy does means more time in an armchair with my books and laptop.)
* * *
We had a charismatic pastor who used to say, “You must SEE it to RECEIVE it.” I suppose in secular terms it would be called creative visualisation.
I wonder if that is part of my struggle. That I have trouble seeing myself as fit, strong and energetic. Never really believed that I could lose weight—which I have been slowly gaining since my late teens at the rate of 3+ pounds a year… Which, well, adds up!!
So I asked God to give me an image to strengthen my faith.
And this was the image I got—myself running down a country road, tirelessly. (I love running, get high on those endorphins quickly, but am very, very slow, and easily fatigued.)
Ah, and here’s where that image is from:
29 He gives strength to the weary
and increases the power of the weak.
30 Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
31 but those who hope in the LORD
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint. (Isaiah 40)
What’s the key here? It’s hoping in the Lord, trusting in the Lord, waiting on the Lord.
Just hanging out with God as a branch in the vine, resting in him, being rejuvenated by his sweet sap flowing into me, his life flowing into me.
That’s where the strength comes from to change life-long habits of comfort-eating when bored or stressed or unhappy or empty. That’s where the strength comes from to eat healthily. And the strength to run and not grow bored or weary.
The secret of the vine: living in Christ, hanging out in and with Christ, relying on that other deeper, sweeter life to flow through me, to fill me, to still my restlessness, comfort my sadness, and give me the will-power and discipline to run and to walk (and, eventually, not grow weary or faint.)
In which areas do you find faith easy–or hard? What are your limps and thorns?
