Lost, but not a lost cause

It happens to me on a daily basis.

Little chances come my way- the chance to be faith-filled, to be brave, to be humble—to pray instead of worry, to step away from the gossip (or better yet, combat it with positivity) or to refrain from seeking recognition for the fact that I’ve washed the dishes for the third time in a day.

Yet, so often (too often), I fail miserably in the face of opportunity. In great irony, I cling to my pride as if it were a life preserver or I sink beneath the waves of anxiety thrashing around me as I refuse to acknowledge the all-powerful God in my midst.

I am so much like Thomas as he ruefully brushes aside his friends’ assertions that they have indeed witnessed the risen Lord. I am so much like Peter, sinking into the ocean’s depths as I avert my eyes from Jesus’ to the angry waves below me.

Out of all the apostles, Thomas was the one who hadn’t yet seen the risen Lord with his own two eyes. When I put myself in Thomas’ shoes, I can see the situation through the same narrow humanity- surely he was at least a little crushed to be the ONLY one who hadn’t experienced the joy the rest of his friends were reveling in. Maybe he felt betrayed, even a little resentful. And so he chose his pride. He chose to build a wall, to voice his doubts in a way that made those around him feel frustrated and small.

Jesus reminds us in the gospel that “Blessed are they who have not seen and still believed.” ‘That could have been YOU, Thomas’ I always think somewhat scornfully whenever I read this passage. ‘You could have been MORE blessed by what you perceived as an injustice, if you’d just had a little humility, a little faith.

When Jesus came to the apostles, walking on water as they cried out in fear through the storm, Peter asked for an opportunity, and Jesus graciously gave it. So, Peter climbs out of the boat and begins placing one foot in front of the other, literally walking atop the unforgiving sea towards the outstretched arms of His Lord. Yet, somewhere along the way, his faith gives in.

When I picture myself in Peter’s shoes, again, I can all too closely understand what happened. It probably only took a glance away from the gaze of the savior to draw his whole attention towards the fact that the wind was crashing mightily against his body as waves rose up ready to engulf him. Never mind the fact that two seconds before he had been WALKING ON  WATER- the sight of the storm was enough to shake him…to steal away the opportunity before he even realized it had been missed.

Thomas failed. Peter wavered. They missed their opportunities to be holy, to choose truth. They were broken, wounded, human men…as human as you and I.

But…just because their opportunities were missed, doesn’t mean that God’s was.

Jesus appeared to Thomas, surrounded by the apostles in the locked upper room. Those around him witnessed his transformation of faith as he touched his shaking fingers to the wounds in His savior’s hands and feet and the gash in His side.10580130_10152310861379537_7362318772808999613_n Jesus reached out to Peter as He sank, pulling him to safety in one swift and powerful motion, affirming once again to the scared group left in the boat that indeed this man was their Lord, and that they were safe in His presence.

Even in Thomas’ doubt, Even in Peter’s fear, God’s glory was magnified.

I can’t always see the bigger picture waiting outside of myself- the one that God wants to orchestrate in order to bless me in bigger ways than I could ever imagine…and sometimes, when I fail to look at my life through eyes of faith, opportunities are missed. I take a few steps backwards. But always, always Jesus is there, in every failing, giving me exactly what I need- ready and waiting to draw beauty from the mess I’ve made.

My God is SUPER-abundant, and lucky for me, He can and will use even my brokenness, my ugliness, my emptiness to do His will…He only needs me to let Him. To surrender to Him those places in me of which I’m so ashamed.

He isn’t afraid of my failure.

His light is so much deeper than my darkness ever could be.

I may be lost, but I am not a lost cause.

And the same goes for you.

There’s an enemy who would love to keep us in that dim, lonely place we shut ourselves into when we miss opportunities, or just completely dishevel the ones we are given. By God’s grace, may we never let him.

When (not if, but when) we fail, may we only ever reach out to Jesus who is already reaching out for us.

And may we trust that not merely in spite of our failure, but from our failures, Jesus will draw us closer to His most sacred heart.

2 thoughts on “Lost, but not a lost cause

  1. Wow. how edifying!! I totally relate to bring a lost cause, and I see now that I let my pride take over that feeling instead of offering it to God, with a humble acceptance that I am weak and that He has a plan way bigger than my failings (or even my successes) .

    Like

  2. So much truth. Thank you. Reminds me of the same things expressed through the writings of St. Francis de Sales, compiled in book by Joseph Tissot I’ve been reading called “How to Profit from Your Faults”. The temptation can be to get more and more discouraged by our weaknesses and failures. But if we let God in, precisely into those places of difficulty and even misery in our lives, those weaknesses and failures can become transformed into greater and greater trust in His boundless mercy and love for us and our need to rely on him completely, instead of on ourselves.

    Like

Leave a reply to Grace MacKenzie Cancel reply