Faith, Humility, and The Promised Land (or Happy Birthday To Me).

August 6, 2013

Today is my birthday—one of those proverbial milestone kinds. Today I turn “The Big 4-OH.” And, even though my twenty-year-old self would have freaked out about this, my thirty-nine-year-old self was surprisingly okay.

I awoke this morning with the strangest thought swimming about in my head. I laughed it off at first, but as the day progressed, I began to consider it more seriously. The thought regarded how when Moses led the Israelites out of Egypt, they roamed around in the desert for forty years before they were finally able to enter the “Promised Land”—the land of milk and honey. For forty long, dry, challenging years, Moses led his people around without once stepping foot into the place that God promised to them. Why?

“Remember every road that God led you on for those forty years in the wilderness, pushing you to your limits, testing you so that he would know what you were made of, whether you would keep his commandments or not. He put you through hard times. He made you go hungry. Then he fed you with manna, something neither you nor your parents knew anything about, so you would learn that men and women don’t live by bread only; we live by every word that comes from God’s mouth. Your clothes didn’t wear out and your feet didn’t blister those forty years. You learned deep in your heart that God disciplines you in the same ways a father disciplines his child.” – Deuteronomy 8:2-5

I spent a great part of my thirty-nine years wandering about in a desert. I made (lots of) poor choices. I chose (many) dead-end roads. I even went in (continuous) circles. I made some pretty big messes—even recent ones. And in those times I often asked, “God, where are you?!” I felt as though I had been abandoned. But like the Israelites who, despite their constant disobedience toward and disinterest in God, I wasn’t alone. It’s said that by day, God went before them as a pillar of cloud and by night, as a pillar of fire. I take comfort in that. Because if God dwelt among these people who continually made a huge mess of things (even after having experienced first-hand His presence) surely He was there with me, too.

I’ve come to realize that true love is proven love. Love without action is just words. And perfect love wants what is best of another, even if that means tough truths, disciplines and consequences. I don’t have children of my own, but I have a dad who I know loves and cares for me deeply. He provided for me with food and shelter and love and care, but also with discipline. But he allowed me to fail without fear of rejection. He wanted the best for me. Some lessons in life I have had to learn by myself. They were hard lessons, and not ones that I would like to repeat, but they provided perspective—that for which I am very grateful. I see the desert. I see the Promised Land. And I am ready to head confidently toward it.

One of the most important lessons that I have learned is that of humility—of not thinking more of myself than I really am, and certainly the cost of pride. I struggle with this every day in many different ways. Jesus’ brother James said, “God opposes the proud, but shows favor to the humble.” (James 4:6) There is much truth in that. Looking back at my thirty-nine years, I can clearly see the effects of doing things my way and what happened when I humbly approached God and trusted that, like a loving father, He knew what was best. Things generally worked out better than I could have hoped—even if the end result was not what I was expecting.

God was there. God is here. Every wrong turn, poor choice, and failure in judgment was not wasted because I believe He allowed me to tread through that desert in order to grow me. He pushed me to my limits and tested my heart to see what I am made of. Yet He never gave me more than I could handle. There’s a lot of junk in my desert that I never again want to pick up or reclaim. Looking back, it’s littered with it. But as I move forward, I am able to look back toward that junk and use it as a reminder of where I have been and where I am going.

The next forty years are going to be filled with doing my best to be my best—the best that God would love to see me achieve. I know I am still going to have failures and disappointments, but I have been given the gift of perspective and appreciation for my foibles. I want to live a good life. I want an honorable life—one that is sensible, quiet, compassionate, encouraging, responsible and loving. I certainly do not want to use the junk in my past as building blocks in a giant pedestal from which I can look down in judgment on others who are currently struggling with the same junk. Instead, I want create from it a road for others to follow so that they might know that they are not alone; a road that is paved with the same encouragement and love that I have been shown. It all starts on Highway 40 that leads to that Promised Land, and it starts today. It’s a happy birthday, indeed.