Obstructions

Since leaving Northern Virginia in 2010, some major changes have taken place at our "home church," Immanuel Bible Church. One of the most exciting has been a new teaching pastor by the name of Jesse Johnson, who my husband and I have become huge fans of as we have listened intently to his sermons online. (If there were such a thing as pastor groupies, we'd probably be those people, but don't tell anyone). Eric had listened to every message Pastor Johnson had ever preached since coming to IBC during his recent deployment to Afghanistan (a sermon a night) and had insisted that I listen to them again with him when he got home. Jesse's humility, practical theological teaching, deep love for the Scriptures and impenetrable stance in the face of the current war on morality make this new pastor a powerhouse for Christ. Finally getting to see him preach in person during a recent trip to Virginia over the Easter holiday was going to be an exciting opportunity for us, a special blessing on the holiest day of the year. And we couldn't wait.

We were so excited, in fact, that we got to church nearly an hour early. We intentionally bi-passed the mandatory Starbucks drive-thru pit stop on the way so that we'd have plenty of time to check the two little kids into the nursery and get a front row seat in a close-up pew. Cause...its Jesse Johnson. We grabbed our oldest child by the hand and made our way down the hallway to the sanctuary. An hour early. Plenty of time. We're golden.

But a funny thing happens on Easter Sunday. People come to church. A lot of people. People who go fishing every other Sunday of the year. They come. People who like to sleep in. They come. People who think other people who go to church every other Sunday of the year are strange...on Easter Sunday, yeah, they come, too. And they were getting our seats. Soon our aspirations to be in the front row faded into possibly getting a seat somewhere in the middle-left, and then the back, and then... shoot!..somewhere up in the balcony.

Hmm.

As we found our seats I was relieved to find I could see pretty well from up there. It was actually a bird's eye view right into all the action. Okay, fine, I sighed, as my husband, my daughter, my mother and I all slid into a pew. As the music began to play I surrendered my self-pity as the uber-talented DC Washington and his amazing vocals welcomed me into my purpose for being there to begin with...Worship. Reflection. Praise. Acknowledgment. Rememberance. Celebration. Focus. 

"Uh, excuse me...do you mind sliding in some? Can we sit here?"

Come. On.

While inwardly annoyed (I can't lie, Lord forgive me), outwardly I was all smiles and nods as I start scootching my family into the middle of the pew. When we got to a dead end it was clear there was JUST enough room on this cushy bench for us and these new people. Shouldn't you be fishing? (I know, people. Easter Sunday. Horrible evangelistic mindset. Thank you, God, for grace.) It was cram-packed. No one could move an inch in either direction and there, directly in front of me as I sat was a massive, white, not-even-a-little-bit-see-through structure-supporting column.

WHAT?!! Are you serious!? I turned to look at an apologetic husband who with his eyes said, "Dear wife, please come take my place and I will be the one to sacrifice the watching of my spiritual Super-Bowl quarterback. Because I love you."

Yeah, right. Like I'm gonna do that. Then I looked at my daughter who had NO intention of trading places with me. She was gonna see what was going on down there at all costs. I wasn't even about to look at my mom...my sweet, wonderful amazing mom who had just finished part 2 of 3 in her cancer treatment and who I knew would benefit from all possible dimensions of this service.

No, this is the deal. I'm gonna stare at this column for the next hour. There is no escape.This stinks.

I pulled out my Bible, disgruntled. A column? Seriously?  I pulled from the cover of my NIV a notecard and envelope from a stash that I always keep in there for spontaneous God-put-you-on-my-heart notes, and handed them to my daughter. To keep her busy.  Because this is about to be the longest hour of my life.

As the music ended and Pastor Johnson began speaking, I'm sure I exhibited many childish displays of disappointment. Eye-rolling. Sighs. Fidgeting. Irritated looks at my husband who would never have even known because he was so taken watching our Christian Rocky Balboa deliver his sermon. And the sermon was just as good as it always was. Moving. Challenging. Convicting. But the column. The column was in my way. The column was ruining everything. The column.

Just then something amazing happened. Something I didn't deserve. In the middle of this totally negative mental Olympic event, I looked down to see my daughter placing a note she had written on the notecard I had given to her into its matching green envelope.

"Dear God,
Thank you for dying on the cross for us. I love you.
Love, Meredith"

As soon as I saw it, it was gone...sealed up and addressed to "Gob," with a little girl's proud lick, forever. Never to be seen again. And I cried.

Had I been watching Pastor Johnson, as great a teacher as he is, I would have missed it. And while I still got to hear every bit of his God-inspired message, God had blessed me even more abundantly by allowing this column to be right in my line of sight so that I would be "forced into" the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get this specific, amazing glimpse into the heart of my precious child.

Wow.

God is good. He's proven it to us a million times over. Why is it so easy for us to forget? So often we get fixated on the column and all the inconveniences and injustices of it and fail to look around for the work God is doing around it. It is so much easier to feel sorry for ourselves, question the circumstance, act disgruntled, blame people for our plight, or complain than to trust in a loving God who has proven Himself to us time and time again. While expending so much of ourselves hating the obstacle we are missing the beauty of it.

Christians who are intently following Christ are guaranteed a life of hardships. We shouldn't be surprised when the column suddenly appears. It's promised to us. But as we commit ourselves more and more to Him and His purposes, a strange thing happens. We begin to embrace the obstacles that God puts in our path because we know...we KNOW...that He has allowed them for the purposes of our growth and His glory. And as we grow deeper and deeper in our love affair with Him, we find those are the only things we even desire anymore. And suddenly the column, the wretched column, is the greatest gift of all.

I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be 
revealed in us. Romans 8:18