At Jesus’ Feet with Laura Story
I just watched this devotional video of
Laura Story, one of the gifted and anointed Christian songwriters I know. If the name doesn’t ring a bell, perhaps her
moving song “Blessings” would.
At a moment in my life when my heart is
aching for a loss, many times I’ve opened the cupboards of my heart and asked
where I have gone wrong. I saw the guilt
of my own sin. That guilt piled up on
the fear and lack of courage to exercise faith on what should have been a
beautiful thing. I turned against myself
and implemented my own punishment, that never again will I taste such beauty of
love, because I will never deserve it.
Then Laura Story shared about that blind
man from birth, whom the disciples asked Jesus about: Who sinned which resulted
to the man’s blindness, himself or his parents?
The sad part is that the disciples’ question is the humanity’s
questions, that in every tragic event, someone should be held responsible. But Jesus turned their question around and
said instead, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned, but this happened so
that the work of God might be displayed in his life. (John 9:1-3)”
Laura then threw the question that I knew
had to nag me: Could it be possible that God be glorified in this heartache
that I’m having? Could it be possible
that my loss speaks of God’s goodness and love instead? Or if I may use the line from her song, “what
if the aching of this life are His mercies in disguise?”
I had wanted for God to seal off my heart
in an instant so that I wouldn’t feel the pain anymore. I had wanted for Him to
just make me forget, so that I could exist like nothing happened. I had wanted for Him to take away the ache,
so that I could smile again. But
no. God just doesn’t operate in ways I
impose on Him. Rather, He wants me to
abide in His ways.
If aching for my loss would mean for me to
long for His fulfilling love, then may I not rest yet until I’m satisfied of
Him. If my lonely nights would mean
there’s now more time for me to spend it with Him, then may I have more time to
meditate on His Word. And if this sense
of emptiness exposes the incompleteness that the world can offer, then may I
always embrace every sense of longing.
I’ve noticed that Jesus doesn’t usually
give direct answers. Instead, He directs
the answers to Himself so that somehow His disciples might come to understand
that what’s most important in life is not the answer, but the beauty of a
loving fellowship with Him as we trust Him despite the no-answers.
"Oh Lord, may Your grace be made more
evident in me as I choose instead to trust You today."
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