{Emily, in the middle, with her husband and children}
Editor’s Note: This article concludes a series entitled When We Don’t Understand. These posts provide truths to hold onto as we grapple with life’s unanswered questions.
I have always been a dreamer. Since I was a child, I have poured over the testimonies of men and women like George Muller, Gladys Aylward, Jim and Elisabeth Elliot, and other titans of the faith whose impact is still rippling through our world today. I loved watching God fill the gap between what our eyes can see and his mysterious, creative, and omnipotent power. While my sisters would spend hours creating and re-creating Barbie worlds with perfect little families, pink fridges, and cute living room sets, my Barbie scenes looked like World War 3 with one-legged Barbie leading a group of Skippers and babies over the Himalayas (a.k.a. our couch) with nothing but a blanket or two. My sisters would roll their eyes and inform me that there was plenty of furniture and clothes to share once I returned from the “mission field.”
Before I give you the wrong idea, I do not have the makings of being a missionary or a leader. I am not an extreme adventurer or brave explorer. I scream at spiders, and driving in my own city makes me nervous. Nor am I a glutton for hardship. Rather, what moves me is the excitement and knowledge that there is something big that God is doing. I want to be a part of it!
Perhaps your vision for your life is not a dangerous trek through the Amazon or taking one hundred children over war torn mountains in China. Maybe it’s raising a family or having your family be more like the one you dreamed you would have. Maybe it’s a sibling for your child, or a dream job, or a place you feel called to, and yet that door hasn’t opened yet. Perhaps it’s the ability to use your gifts in the church in a way you have not been able to. What do we do when the way we want to serve or be used by God does not line up with where he has us? What do we do when what we want is a good thing, but it isn’t what we have been given? What do we do when the portion that God has given us feels like the “light portion” of the menu?
Psalm 16:6 is a familiar verse that we often see scrolled on chalkboards or titling a portrait of a family laughing together: “The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed I have a beautiful inheritance.” We can be tempted to think that this verse is for those picture-perfect moments when all is as it should be and we are living in the beauty and goodness that God has given. However, this Psalm wasn’t written in a time of prosperity and peace. David wasn’t surveying his vast and beautiful kingdom, surrounded by loved ones. The first line of this psalm is “Preserve me, O God, for in You I take refuge.”
The Psalm is a song of confidence in the Lord’s sovereign and loving care in the midst of trouble. He is declaring, “You are my Lord; I have no good apart from You” (vs. 2). This doesn’t just mean that anything good in my life is from him, although that is true. It also means that if there was anything better for me than the circumstances and situation that God has placed me in, his love would have settled me there. What he has given is what is perfect and right. I am in the best place for me.
This is the kind of heartwork that God loves to do. David sees what he has been allocated and chooses to be content, not because his situation is perfect, but because the Lord holds his lot (vs. 5). David is choosing to view his circumstances as pleasant and beautiful, not because they feel that way, but because they have been ordained out of love, by God, for him.
We may know that God is good, but when we look at our circumstances, like David did, do we live in the truth of it? When we look at our portion, can we say with joy and gratitude that “the lines have fallen in pleasant places?” Can we declare that we “have no good apart from him?” Do we believe that God, who loved us enough to sacrifice his Son on the cross, knows best? This is who our God is: He “makes known to us the path of life.” In his “presence there is fullness of joy” and at his “right hand are pleasures forevermore” (vs. 11).
