Where Is God When Life Piles On?

When I was a child, my family played a game called "Don't Tip the Waiter." A cardboard waiter, balanced on a swinging base, held a tray over his head. We took turns piling tiny cardboard food tokens onto the tray. The goal was to add one more without sending the whole thing crashing to the floor. There was a pork chop token, a pie token, and I think a very questionable cardboard fish. Someone always groaned, someone always gloated, and someone always had to crawl under the table to find the pie.

It was great fun until recently when I became the waiter. Now, not so much!

For the past couple of months, life has been handing me tokens. Here's an obligation. Have a little sickness. This circumstance is for you, and here's a second helping of the same one. I have watched that tray pile up and thought, Well, this is it. Somebody call the cleanup crew. Yet here I am, still upright.

I'm wobbly, and I'm swaying like a palm tree in a hurricane. Some mornings I'm fairly sure I'm held together by prayer and energy drinks, and the energy drink does most of the work. But I haven't tipped. I'm still going and still functioning, more or less. (Please note the "less.")

Honestly, that alone should have me shouting, "God is here!" I know that. Without Him, I would have crashed weeks ago and been sweeping up cardboard pie.

And yet a tiny, ungrateful, very human longing has lived in me. I wanted more. I wanted His grace to be bigger and flashier, with a few trumpets. I wanted His peace to come wrapping around me like a warm, fuzzy blanket fresh from the dryer. I have been standing here with my arms out, waiting for the Almighty to hug me, but the warm, fuzzy blanket hasn't come.

Then, in my Bible time this week, the Lord gently turned my head (as He often does). He didn't turn it toward the blanket. He turned it toward the Rock.

Think about what the Bible calls Him. "The LORD is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust" (Psalm 18:2). It says rock. It doesn't say throw pillow. And "Which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and stedfast" (Hebrews 6:19). It says anchor. It doesn't say fluffy bathrobe.

Have you ever tried to snuggle a rock? I don't recommend it. Have you ever tried to cuddle an anchor? The only thing you'll get is a chiropractor bill. Rocks and anchors are hard, cold, heavy, and stubborn. They are not comfortable to lean on or grip. But they have one glorious quality that no blanket on earth can claim. They don't move.

This is the lesson I'm learning, and I think it's meant for you too. We often search for God where we expect Him and walk right past where He actually is. We go looking for the soft thing. We want warmth, goosebumps, and a feeling. Meanwhile, the hard thing has been beneath us the whole time, holding us up.

Peter's mother-in-law didn't get a warm feeling out of her fever. Well, technically, she did, but not for the reasons we would hope. The disciples didn't get a warm, fuzzy feeling as the boat was tossed about in the storm. Elijah stood on a mountain and watched wind, an earthquake, and fire go by. "But the LORD was not in the wind... and the LORD was not in the earthquake... and the LORD was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice" (1 Kings 19:11-12). If Elijah had insisted on a dramatic entrance, he would have missed Him entirely. The two disciples on the Emmaus road walked and talked with Jesus for miles because "their eyes were holden that they should not know him" (Luke 24:16). He was right there beside them, and they were looking for something else.

Ask yourself honestly. If you're swaying but still standing, who's holding you? Your feet haven't slipped, and that's not luck. David said, "When I said, My foot slippeth; thy mercy, O LORD, held me up" (Psalm 94:18). Held me up. That's not a feeling. It's a fact, and you can lean your whole weight on it.

I also return to this familiar passage and think of the Lord's answer to Paul, who begged for relief and didn't get the removal he wanted: "My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness" (2 Corinthians 12:9). Notice it says sufficient, not sensational. Sufficient means enough to keep you standing, and God measures out exactly enough. Paul's thorn stayed, but so did Paul.

Here's the part that really loosened my grip on the blanket. Anchors aren't meant to make a ship comfortable. They're meant to keep it from drifting onto the rocks. If you're in a storm, you don't need your anchor to feel nice. You need it to hold. And if you're still afloat, still in position, and still not tipped, the anchor is doing its job.

Don't misunderstand me. Our God is the God of comfort ("Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort" 2 Corinthians 1:3). The blanket may well be coming. But He doesn't give the blanket instead of the Rock. He gives the Rock first, so we have something solid to be wrapped up on.

Isaiah put the two together beautifully: "Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee... Trust ye in the LORD for ever: for in the LORD JEHOVAH is everlasting strength" (Isaiah 26:3-4). The KJV margin says "the rock of ages" there. Peace and Rock sit side by side in the very same breath. Peace is kept by staying on the Stone.

So if you're trying to find God in your trial, try these:

• Count the things that haven't fallen. You got out of bed today, and the bills got paid, or at least you survived the committee meeting. That's not you. That's all Him.

• Stop grading His presence by how it feels. Grade it by whether you're held.

• Say it out loud, even if it's a whisper: "Lord, I can't feel You, but I thank You for holding me."

• Cast the burden anyway: "Cast thy burden upon the LORD, and he shall sustain thee: he shall never suffer the righteous to be moved" (Psalm 55:22). Sustain, not necessarily soothe.

And when the storm lets up, and it will, watch for the blanket. I have a feeling He's been knitting it.

Until then, dear fellow waiter, wobble if you must, sway if you have to, and keep leaning on the hard thing. The tray may shake, but He won't, and "He only is my rock and my salvation; he is my defence; I shall not be greatly moved" (Psalm 62:2).