(Copy edited by Aneah Epshteyn.)
(Image first used on March 31, 2022 in THIS post.)
Do we proclaim, “God’s ways are higher than mine” (Is. 55:8-9) too soon? While true, God never intended us to use this statement to silence our questions and numb our discomfort in painful situations. Not only does our faith grow exponentially during wrestling seasons, but our very willingness to engage reveals a depth of trust I’m certain touches our Father’s heart.
Only one secure in their mom or dad’s unconditional love can express their most anguished emotions, especially when they blame that parent for their pain. Those conversations, as excruciating as they might feel, can lead to deeper relationships. In pushing past surface niceties to the most hidden places in the soul, they forge a connection not experienced otherwise.
Parenting an adult child profoundly elevated my appreciation for this holiest of struggles. When my daughter left for college, her physical distance and maturity widened her view of me, my parenting, and how both had affected her. She came to realize that I possessed flaws and that they’d caused her pain. In the years following, she shared some of these wounds with me in conversations we both found excruciating.
I imagine there were many times she debated keeping silent. There were certainly numerous occasions in which I wished she had! At least, in the moment. Standing on the other side of that uncomfortable and healing season, I’m grateful for her courage because I’ve witnessed the converse. I’ve watched other young adults and their parents grow increasingly distant due to unresolved hurts that remained undisclosed, out of fear.
While I can’t speak to other people’s motivation, I can share what my daughter told me one afternoon not long ago. “You were always a safe person for me to come to,” she said.
I take this to mean that she knew, even when I didn’t always react well in the moment, that I would always reach for her. Just as, through those raw and frightening conversations, she was reaching for me.
These were my thoughts as I contemplated the words of Habakuk, the Old Testament prophet living during a dark period of ancient Israel’s history. Granted, unlike me, our Heavenly Father is always the perfect parent. But that doesn’t mean His kids won’t respond to His actions with intense emotion. In Habakuk’s dialogue with God, we see a courage and trust that drove him straight to his Father, and the unconditional, healing love that met him there.
The prophet launched this lyrical discussion asking God how long He’d remain silent to his cries for help and tolerant to violence and injustice. The Lord responded by the foretelling of Babylon’s invasion. Increasingly distraught, Habakuk said, in essence, “How could You, the Holy One, do such a thing?”, adding in chapter two: “I will stand at my watch and station myself on the ramparts; I will look to see what He will say to me, and what answer I am to give to this complaint” (v. 1, NIV).
I envision him with feet planted and arms crossed, determined not to drop the matter until the Lord responds. Does that seem brazen? Were we to encounter similar behavior from a brother or sister in Christ, would we view their words as rebellion? Or the raw expression of an anguished child to the one Person whose comfort they most crave?
The book of Habakuk assures us that Christ is and always will be our safe place. When we live in that reality, as the prophet did, we reach a firmer understanding that, indeed, God’s thoughts and ways are higher than ours. We reach a place of greater trust where we also can say, no matter what happens, “I will rejoice in the Lord … The sovereign Lord is my strength” (Hab. 3:17-19, NIV).
Let’s talk about this! When you think of wrestling with God, what feelings arise? What are your thoughts regarding Habakkuk’s interactions with the Lord? How can allowing ourselves to wrestle with God lead to deeper faith and relational intimacy with the Lord?
Before you go, did you know Faith Over Fear now has a GodTube channel? You can find it HERE!
