A friend called me the other day to ask for prayer. He felt he was coming under severe demonic attack — one arrow after another was flying at him. Not only that, his children were experiencing demonic visitations at night while he was away speaking at a conference at which a large number of young people came to Christ.
The world is spending a lot of time arguing about freedom these days, but not a lot of time reflecting on what real freedom is. For us as Christians, freedom is a gift which operates regardless of our circumstances or what external restrictions we are under. It is something much deeper than which party is running the government, or whether you’re for or against masks. It means we shouldn’t get quite as worked up about some of these issues as we do. And it certainly means none of them are worth pursuing at the cost of dividing the body of Christ.
Patience. I needed it badly on the occasion when I waited for over two hours to get through to the airline we were flying on because of a malfunction with their online booking system, then had to give up and accept a callback five days later. The Greek word for patience is makrothumia. Its meaning in the pagan culture was to put up something we cannot control. Patience simply reflects the blunt truth of having to put up with whatever is out there.
One desperate day Mary and Martha sent a message to Jesus: “He whom you love is ill.”
On receiving the message, Jesus made the statement that Lazarus’ illness would not end in death, but that God would be glorified through it. God has a plan and intention in everything. His plan is not tailor-made to ensure we avoid trial or distress, and this story is an illustration of that. God is not the author of evil. Trouble entered the world because of or sin, which opened the door to the source of all evil. But God takes up the web of our disaster and weaves it into something which instead brings our deliverance. He uses the materials at hand — sickness, blindness, poverty, injustice — and turns them to gold. So here God starts not with Lazarus’ healing, but with his death. Yet he is going to use that tragedy to fashion a greater triumph.
Anyone who has engaged in spiritual warfare knows the familiar routine: the day begins innocently enough, then it all starts to happen. One thing after another goes wrong, all apparently unrelated. A unexpected bill comes in, a child gets hurt, an unpleasant phone call takes place, a family argument erupts. Or things can be even more serious. A family member is injured, a marriage is threatened, a church begins to split, a job is lost. And so we begin to ask the question, “Is it worth it?”
