Hope is My Anchor
Strength for your soul amid life's storms June 2005
_________________________________________________________________
During the days of Jesus' life on earth, he offered up prayers and petitions with loud
cries and tears to the one who could save him from death, and he was heard because
of his reverent submission. Although he was a son, he learned obedience from what he
suffered and, once made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who
obey him...
—Hebrews 5:7-9
Hope. The first unity candle, signalling our hope in Christ, was lit by a young couple
and their two year-old daughter, her pigtails bobbing with each step. As I sat in my
pew alone, I remembered when we were them, healthy and strong, ready to face the
world, excited to be serving the Lord—and the tears started to flow. I have no hope
today, God, I silently confessed.
Our Sunday School class struggles with questions I know Dave could answer, if God
would but release him to the service he loves. Instead Dave is home, left with no
answer to the unthinkable question: Will I need to be taken care of for the rest of my
life? I know the question comes with the requisite "herx" reaction from the antibiotics
killing off Lyme, causing pain and anxiety and a whole host of symptoms. But that
doesn't erase the pain of the question, or the agony of not knowing.
There is a truth in there that Jesus understood. When Lazarus died, He too wept,
felt deeply the pain that Mary and Martha felt. It didn't matter that He knew He could
bring Lazarus back to life—understanding didn't erase the pain of the moment. He
called out to God, and God heard—and answered—and Lazarus was brought back
to life. And isn't that what we all long for, the God who answers with His power and
love? Then we know our prayers have been heard.
But God doesn't answer simply yes—or no or wait awhile. When Jesus cried out to
God the night before His death, "take this cup from me," He was again heard
(Hebrews 5:7-9). And God answered powerfully and with love as He strengthened
Jesus' resolve to say "not my will, but yours be done." We can see the progression in
Jesus' prayers in Matthew 26:36-46. And Luke 22:43 tells us specifically that He was
strengthened—and then afterward "being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his
sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground."
We do not have a benign paternal God who looks down from on High with
occasional sympathy. We have Emmanuel: God with us. The God whose Holy Spirit
has chosen to dwell IN us. Do we stop to think what this means?
The God who lived through intense anguish in His life on earth, continues to choose to
live through it along with us. He doesn't merely see our pain; He says that "whatever
you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me." (Mt 25:40).
He is hungry, thirsty, a stranger, naked, sick, and in prison, along with us. When He
says "never will I leave you, never will I forsake you," He means to impart a depth of
love that if we truly understood it, would take our breath away.
What you and I live through, often unvoluntarily, God has chosen to live through with
us, intimately, daily, weeping with us.
Why He would choose pain rather than immediately use His power to "fix" everything,
I don't know—but I have a glimpse of some possibilities. I think Jesus knows that
power doesn't erase pain—He wept when Lazarus died, even though he then went on
to raise him from the dead. When someone lives through something with us—really
cares—they can comfort in a way someone more distant can't.
On a deeper level I sense, as strange as this may sound, that God thinks we are
worth the pain He goes through with us, and the anguish Jesus suffered on the cross—
and that the prize He is seeking is us, is relationship with us. Something that power
alone could not accomplish. In us, and walking with us, God is bringing about our
holiness. He is making possible a relationship that will fulfill us so much that we will
look back and think the pain was worth it, was miniscule in comparison. We can't see
that now, but one day we will.
Are you hurting, feeling without hope, maybe even dreading Christmas this year?
Pour your heart out to God. Grief and depression can't be rushed—and they are not
without purpose. God is a redeemer, and He will redeem this time, and restore your
soul. Cling to Him.
Ps 71:20
Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter, you will restore my life
again; from the depths of the earth you will again bring me up.
Lam 2:19
"...pour out your heart like water in the presence of the Lord..."
Ps 73:21-26
When my heart was grieved and my spirit embittered, I was senseless and
ignorant; I was a brute beast before you. Yet I am always with you; you hold me
by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take
me into glory. Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire
besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever.
Ps 13:1-6
How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your
face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have
sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me? Look on me and
answer, O LORD my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death; my
enemy will say, "I have overcome him," and my foes will rejoice when I fall. But
I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to
the LORD, for he has been good to me.
May God richly bless you with His presence,
Merry
Strength for your soul amid life's storms June 2005
_________________________________________________________________
During the days of Jesus' life on earth, he offered up prayers and petitions with loud
cries and tears to the one who could save him from death, and he was heard because
of his reverent submission. Although he was a son, he learned obedience from what he
suffered and, once made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who
obey him...
—Hebrews 5:7-9
Hope. The first unity candle, signalling our hope in Christ, was lit by a young couple
and their two year-old daughter, her pigtails bobbing with each step. As I sat in my
pew alone, I remembered when we were them, healthy and strong, ready to face the
world, excited to be serving the Lord—and the tears started to flow. I have no hope
today, God, I silently confessed.
Our Sunday School class struggles with questions I know Dave could answer, if God
would but release him to the service he loves. Instead Dave is home, left with no
answer to the unthinkable question: Will I need to be taken care of for the rest of my
life? I know the question comes with the requisite "herx" reaction from the antibiotics
killing off Lyme, causing pain and anxiety and a whole host of symptoms. But that
doesn't erase the pain of the question, or the agony of not knowing.
There is a truth in there that Jesus understood. When Lazarus died, He too wept,
felt deeply the pain that Mary and Martha felt. It didn't matter that He knew He could
bring Lazarus back to life—understanding didn't erase the pain of the moment. He
called out to God, and God heard—and answered—and Lazarus was brought back
to life. And isn't that what we all long for, the God who answers with His power and
love? Then we know our prayers have been heard.
But God doesn't answer simply yes—or no or wait awhile. When Jesus cried out to
God the night before His death, "take this cup from me," He was again heard
(Hebrews 5:7-9). And God answered powerfully and with love as He strengthened
Jesus' resolve to say "not my will, but yours be done." We can see the progression in
Jesus' prayers in Matthew 26:36-46. And Luke 22:43 tells us specifically that He was
strengthened—and then afterward "being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his
sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground."
We do not have a benign paternal God who looks down from on High with
occasional sympathy. We have Emmanuel: God with us. The God whose Holy Spirit
has chosen to dwell IN us. Do we stop to think what this means?
The God who lived through intense anguish in His life on earth, continues to choose to
live through it along with us. He doesn't merely see our pain; He says that "whatever
you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me." (Mt 25:40).
He is hungry, thirsty, a stranger, naked, sick, and in prison, along with us. When He
says "never will I leave you, never will I forsake you," He means to impart a depth of
love that if we truly understood it, would take our breath away.
What you and I live through, often unvoluntarily, God has chosen to live through with
us, intimately, daily, weeping with us.
Why He would choose pain rather than immediately use His power to "fix" everything,
I don't know—but I have a glimpse of some possibilities. I think Jesus knows that
power doesn't erase pain—He wept when Lazarus died, even though he then went on
to raise him from the dead. When someone lives through something with us—really
cares—they can comfort in a way someone more distant can't.
On a deeper level I sense, as strange as this may sound, that God thinks we are
worth the pain He goes through with us, and the anguish Jesus suffered on the cross—
and that the prize He is seeking is us, is relationship with us. Something that power
alone could not accomplish. In us, and walking with us, God is bringing about our
holiness. He is making possible a relationship that will fulfill us so much that we will
look back and think the pain was worth it, was miniscule in comparison. We can't see
that now, but one day we will.
Are you hurting, feeling without hope, maybe even dreading Christmas this year?
Pour your heart out to God. Grief and depression can't be rushed—and they are not
without purpose. God is a redeemer, and He will redeem this time, and restore your
soul. Cling to Him.
Ps 71:20
Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter, you will restore my life
again; from the depths of the earth you will again bring me up.
Lam 2:19
"...pour out your heart like water in the presence of the Lord..."
Ps 73:21-26
When my heart was grieved and my spirit embittered, I was senseless and
ignorant; I was a brute beast before you. Yet I am always with you; you hold me
by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take
me into glory. Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire
besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever.
Ps 13:1-6
How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your
face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have
sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me? Look on me and
answer, O LORD my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death; my
enemy will say, "I have overcome him," and my foes will rejoice when I fall. But
I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to
the LORD, for he has been good to me.
May God richly bless you with His presence,
Merry
| Unanswered Prayers |
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© 2004 Dave and Merry Marinello, all rights reserved.
Welcome! Thanks for visiting our little "harbor" amid life's storms. We hope you
will find rest and encouragement in your struggles, big or small. Here you can:
will find rest and encouragement in your struggles, big or small. Here you can:
"Be Stumped!"
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Hope is My Anchor
Strength for your soul amid life's storms
Strength for your soul amid life's storms