The Thomas-Trap: Overcoming Doubt in God

I’m feeling Esther Sophia flutter-kick and hiccup in my belly--gentle reminders that baby’s growing strong, and yesterday 3-year-old Isaiah lay his head on my belly, hoping to feel sister flutter-kick. He’d lift his head saying: “I hear her talking, mama! I hear her!” grey eyes wide with wonder. And then he’d lay his blond head on my belly again and listen and laugh saying, “She tooted. I heard her in there!” And we’d giggle together at the wonder-beauty of living baby rolling in belly.

“From His Fullness we have all received Grace upon Grace.”

And this is Grace—the wonder-beauty of baby sister kicking strong in taut, round belly.

But even though I feel the wonder of God’s Grace today, see it ripple-wave across my belly, I still doubt that I’ll know Grace, experience Grace, tomorrow, next week, next year. 

Which is why I fear change, risk, uncertainty. I fear Grace won’t follow me into the dark unknown of tomorrow.

Why—when I see evidence of Grace in the Now—does this heart of mine doubt I’ll see Grace in tomorrow?!   

Why do I follow in the foot-steps of Thomas-the-Doubter, saying: “I’ll believe Grace when I can touch it, see it, smell it!”

Thomas witnessed--“the Word became flesh and dwelt among us,” –he saw Jesus-the-Christ in living, breathing flesh. He watched him turn water into wine, walk on water, and raise the dead to life.

Yet, when God in the Flesh did the very thing he predicted—died for ALL—Thomas-the-Doubter thought DEATH too great a thing for God-in-the-Flesh to overcome.

And like Thomas, even though I see Grace in the Now—tiny baby rolling in my belly, three boys sword-slashing in the living room, husband bringing me another cup of coffee—I doubt God’s Grace to sustain all this wonder-beauty in tomorrow . . . .

I’ve realized: this foolish-sinful heart DOUBTS God’s promise to pour out “Grace upon Grace” because my Fear of Loss is stronger than my Faith.

And I’m taking Jon Bloom’s (theologian/writer for Desiring God) advice to doubters: “Don’t be content to just tell Jesus how you’re struggling. Repent! Call doubt what it is: a distrust of God. Repentance has amazing power to break the spell of a sin weight. . . and Soak in the Gospel according to John: 'These are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name' (John 20:31). The whole book is about believing.” (Read Jon Bloom's article Lay Aside the Weight of Doubt)

In John’s gospel, Jesus does Grace-miracle after Grace-miracle and asks: “Do you believe? . . . Do you now believe?”  and in response to God-in-the-flesh miracles, “many believe him!”

I long to be among those who believe “with no doubting, for the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, that is driven and tossed by the wind. . .  a double-minded [woman], unstable in all [her] ways.” (James 1). 

I long to rest in the belief that God WILL DO as he promises—pour out Grace today and tomorrow and next year.

And this is my prayer, that I will replace Doubt with lived-out-Faith in God as I soak in his Life-Giving-Promises and see and savor his Grace in the every-day-miracle of my little Esther’s flutter-kicks and so much more . . . .

When Death Comes, Then Comes JOY

Grandpa with 1-year-old Micah in Chicago

My Grandpa W. died last Saturday.

On Tuesday afternoon Jon pulled me close and whispered soft: “Your Grandpa died. Your dad forwarded his obituary today and the funeral’s tomorrow . . .  in Chicago . . .”

It wasn’t a shock, this bitter-sweet news of the passing of my 95-year-old Grandpa, my step-Grandpa, but the only real Grandparent I’ve ever known.

This passing of old life felt bitter because I’ll never hear Grandpa tell his joke about the salesman with the toothbrush for the 100^th time, I’ll never listen to him share what he learned from This Daily Bread in the early AM, never see him hobble-walk into his kitchen at 6am to eat his orange, grapefruit, and toast, and never go bowling with him and his white-haired friends who always got better bowling scores than us 30-somethings.

I’ll never hear him tremble-tell stories about his first wife, Jean, and my Grandma Irma, and his daughter Judy, who all saw Jesus’ face years ago  . . .

But this passing of Grandpa is also sweet, sweet because this I know for sure: my Grandpa W. loved Jesus with his life.

I’ll never forget when Jon and I were young and dating and drove from Minneapolis to Chicago to see Grandpa and my college-going sisters. And that weekend while I slept on my sisters’ apartment floor in Wheaton, Jon stayed up late in Grandpa’s condo, playing him in chess, and getting beat over and over again while he “waited for your Grandpa to have a senior moment! He never had one!” And Jon woke up at 5am and rolled out of that creaky sofa bed and sat with Grandpa as he opened his Bible and read Our Daily Bread and talked about his Savior-God, talked about how he couldn’t wait to go to heaven and see Him face-to-face.

I’ll never forget the letters Grandpa sent over the years, one-after-another, writing in his wobbly script that he was “praying every day for you and your family, and I love you very much.”

When he finally lost his driver’s license, and he moved out of his West Chicago condo and into his son’s house, he left nothing behind because he’d given it all away. At the end of life, Grandpa’s treasure was in the unseen, the eternal, not the temporal, where moth and rust destroy and thieves break in and steal.

That’s what I remember most about my Grandpa: Christ was his treasure, his life, his Everything.

And the older he got, the more he breathed Jesus.

And this is my prayer: that I may follow in the foot-steps of my Grandpa, knowing and loving Jesus more than Life.

And this is my hope: “Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life. He does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life.”

And this is my peace: “You have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.”