Do You Trust God with Your Timeline?

Have you noticed how heartache often comes with a timestamp?

In recent weeks, as friends have shared their disappointments over dinner, each has worked backward, taking me on a journey through the major events that led to this moment. With each recap, I could have grabbed a Sharpie and drawn a timeline on the table in front of us with the major moments marked like a tick on a ruler: 

• Began following Christ → served faithfully in church → was overlooked for a leadership role

• Dreamed of getting married → met an amazing man → got stuck in a prolonged engagement

• Prayed for a restored family → worked toward reconciliation → is still estranged from loved ones

Tick, tick, boom. 

Each woman had expected her timeline to lead to a different outcome, but reality had caused her to wrestle internally: Did I misunderstand what I was supposed to do? Did I mess up somewhere? Can I really trust God with this part of my life?

A Twist in the Timeline 

Scripture is filled with the lives of real people whose stories didn’t unfold according to their desired timing or expectations. If you’ve studied the book of Esther, perhaps you’ve plotted out the major ups and downs of her dramatic story. But have you considered the ordinary and extraordinary moments of Mordecai’s life?

When Mordecai is introduced in Esther 2, his family had been exiled to Babylon, which marked the beginning of a long period of displacement for Mordecai and his people (Est. 2:5–6). He unexpectedly became the guardian of Esther after the death of her parents and then raised her as his own daughter (Est. 2:7).  Later, Mordecai heard of a plot to assassinate the king and reported it. The murderous plan was verified, and the men behind it were hanged (Est. 2:21–23).

“After all this took place,” the next chapter begins, “King Ahasuerus honored . . .” Mordecai? No. The villain of the story was promoted to the highest position, and Mordecai was overlooked. 

The author [of the book of Esther] places the promotion of Haman just where the original readers would have expected a report of Mordecai’s reward as a benefactor of the king. Haman’s introduction forms an unexpected twist when juxtaposed with Mordecai’s unrewarded loyalty.

If you’re familiar with the story of Esther, you know the conflict between Mordecai and Haman only escalated from there. You also know how the story ended. But what if you were the one living this story? Imagine the moment from Mordecai’s perspective, having fulfilled your role and responsibilities faithfully, only for someone else to reap the benefits.

Can you feel the disappointment? How your prayers would sound that night as you crawled into bed and stared at the ceiling? In deeply disappointing moments, it doesn’t take much for discouragement to lead to doubt about who God is, which can change the way you respond to Him. 

Tick, tick, boom. 

Finding God’s Providence 

As Esther 3 begins, we don’t know what Mordecai was thinking or what doubts plagued his mind. But consider the thoughts that show up in your mind when discouragement feels fresh—when you look at those who receive what you were hoping for and you think, “I thought I’d have that by now.” Or you ask, “Why hasn’t it happened for me yet?” 

On those days . . .

• Do you struggle to believe that God sees you and cares? 

• Do you feel as though God is inconsistent or unfair when He allows good to seemingly happen to others and not you?  

• Do you trust God’s power over the events of your life but not His wisdom in bringing them to pass in the best timing? 

Even before this point in the story, God had been at work in the details of Mordecai’s life. In a recent episode of the Revive Our Hearts podcast, Nancy DeMoss Wolgemuth highlighted the providence of God on display in this section of Scripture. Providence, she explained, is the fact that “God sees what is going to happen. [He] ordains ahead, and [He] goes before His people to make provision for those circumstances before we ever get there.”

Nancy pointed out God’s providence in putting Mordecai in a position at the king’s gate to work, as well as in arranging the circumstances of the day so that Mordecai would be able to hear the assassination plot and report it. God’s divine provision is evident when you look at the details of Mordecai’s life.

Paying attention to evidence of past divine providence in your life can help you fight present disappointment—even if you have to think back years or decades. Ask yourself:

• Where have I seen God at work orchestrating the details of my life to bring me to this point in time?

• How have I experienced God’s goodness, especially in ways I took for granted in the moment?

• How have I witnessed His power and wisdom in opening or closing doors at just the right moment?

Allow hindsight to deepen your hope that God’s timing is perfect and His providence is kind.

Will You Trust God’s Timeline?

After Mordecai’s loyalty was overlooked, what was the next tick in his timeline? It was a small one: he went back to his job. As Nancy mentioned in the podcast,

Mordecai’s good deed was not recognized or rewarded for another four or five years. 

Can I remind you that God sees, God knows, and God will bring all things to light in His time? You see that theme through the Scripture: “Evil pursues sinners, but to the righteous, good shall be repaid” (Prov. 13:21 NKJV). “The Son of Man will come . . . and then He will reward each according to his works” (Matt. 16:27 NKJV).

Then, not now. So much of the reward for the Christian life is not now. So much of our reward, as servants of God and of our families, is not now. The reward is later.

Mordecai wouldn’t see how this moment fit into the bigger picture until years later. In the meantime, the Lord’s unseen hand was at work behind the scenes, aligning circumstances, shifting pieces into place, and preparing a moment when His plan would unfold in ways beyond what anyone could have imagined (see Esther 6). 

When that moment came, it was no longer just about Mordecai. What had seemed like a delay in his life years before had always been part of a much larger storyline, one that meant deliverance for God’s people and drew attention to the sovereignty, provision, and grace of God Himself. 

So much of what the Lord is currently doing in your life won’t be fully revealed until you see Him face to face: then, not now. In His kindness, He may reveal reasons why some of the events in your story have happened the way they have, but until then, you can trust His timeline for your life. And that trust will help you:

• Stretch and strengthen your faith, as you acknowledge that the Lord’s wisdom surpasses your own, and that His paths and plans are good (Psalm 25:4–5). 

• Recognize that God’s purposes are bigger than you. If you could see how the pieces of your life fit into His master plan, you’d be amazed at the intentionality and grace behind the good works He’s called you to walk out today (Eph. 2:10). 

• Bring praise to God’s glory. You’re a small part of the grand narrative He’s been writing from the beginning of time into eternity. As you acknowledge that He’s sovereign over your life and surrender to His good plans, even in the midst of your disappointment, you glorify Him (Eph. 1:11–12). 

Two Thousand Years Later    

Thousands of years after the events of the book of Esther took place, Jewish people around the world still celebrate His deliverance. Last night, March 13, marked the beginning of one of the most joyous holidays on the Jewish calendar—Purim. Beginning at sunset yesterday evening and continuing through nightfall tonight, Jews will read the book of Esther and rehearse the events that led to their people being saved.

Followers of Christ are still talking about the timeline of Esther all these years later because it was never a story about Mordecai or Esther—it was a testimony of God’s providence, His faithfulness to His people, and the reality that He can be trusted. 

As you think back on the story, it’s not enough to see His hand at work in times past or in others’ lives. As you look at what feels absent from your own timeline, if you feel the sting of lingering disappointment in your story today, will you trust the Lord with your story? He never forgets, never overlooks, and never fails. One day you’ll see how every unexpected twist in the plot leads to glory. Until then, rest in His providence, and allow your timeline to turn your eyes to Him. "Do You Trust God with Your Timeline?" was originally published on ReviveOurHearts.com.

The Precious Gift of an Imperfect Christmas

Picture it: Christmas morning. For the first time all month, you’re not focused on your chronic illness. You’re not thinking about all of the Decembers you were too sick to get out of bed. You’re not fixated on the pain in your head. All of your attention is on the presents in your hands, the poinsettias on your aunt’s front porch, and the family waiting for you inside. As you walk through the entryway and put your purse down, you wrap your arms around your people and almost remember what it’s like to feel well. 

Between bites of roasted turkey and fresh cranberries, you listen to your parents and their siblings tease each other about moments from their childhood, and you reach for a napkin to dry tears of laughter. Your cousins share career updates, changes to college majors, plans to get married. The conversation quiets. The questions swing your way. You stare down at your place setting, always startled a bit when your invisible illness is seen by others.

You take a breath and prepare to answer. You know what they want: a praise report to take back to their neighbors and small groups and friends from church who have been praying for you for years. You want to give them an honest update about your health, but at the same time, you don’t want to say that you’re struggling with new symptoms or a fresh flare-up or that you’re afraid your medicine has stopped working. You don’t want to break their hearts on a holiday.

Before you look up, you hear someone say it: “All we want for Christmas is for you to be well.” You don’t know how to respond. You hear the compassion underneath their words. You know they come from a good place. They’re kind words and consistent with your desire to be healed. But they separate you from the rest of your family. You are no longer a part of the whole, but the patient at the end of the table.

In your mind, you’re not much different from the others, sitting beside your aunt who is struggling to get pregnant, your cousin who is still praying for a husband, and your uncle who can’t find a job. Their ongoing needs are a source of ongoing isolation, too.

But the room stills as everyone waits for your answer; you feel like nothing you say will comfort them. What do you do when you show up without the one thing your family wants more than anything? When you can’t give them the gift of not worrying about your health anymore?

Better Gifts 

Here’s one solution: offer them something better than your health.

Your family has watched you suffer year after year; they assume the best gift you could receive would be physical healing. But freedom from pain is an unsatisfying present, an empty box, if it comes apart from Christ. Jesus is the best gift. He is what we all need most this season. Because of Him, we have gifts to offer that are better than a clean bill of health.

Chronic pain sufferers have many chances to learn this lesson. We practice dependence on Jesus just to survive the day. Family members who live close by ride this chronic illness wave with us and cry out to the Lord alongside us as our pain comes and goes, as we try new treatments, and as we wait for flare-ups to calm down. But family members who live far away don’t have the same intimate opportunities to enter into our experience of suffering. When they see us on Christmas, they see all of the updates they have received over the last year standing in front of them, face-to-face. As they are reminded of our suffering all over again, they are thrown back into a cycle of grief.

Their sadness can feel like our failure. We may be tempted to succumb to self-pity. We may try to shut down their displays of emotion by refusing to discuss bacteria or pills or medical plans over the holidays. But sickness is not a legitimate excuse to avoid serving our families, even when we feel like we have nothing to offer. This year, whether we are coming into Christmas ready to share good news of improved health or whether our chronic symptoms are in full swing, we do not have to walk (or Zoom) into family gatherings empty-handed. Here are three precious gifts we can talk about this Christmas.

1. The Gift of Faith

Look at the examples of Elizabeth and Mary in Luke 1—Elizabeth’s suffering was real and it was long, but she walked with God and rejoiced in His faithfulness. Tell your family about the deep confidence you have in Christ, especially now, as symptoms of chronic illness remain. Tell them who He is, and why He can be trusted. Talk to them about the promises of God and the power of the cross and why the resurrection is proof that everything God has said will come true. Talk about God’s character: the aspects that make sense to you and the areas that are too great for you to comprehend. Explain what it means to you that God cares about your condition and why it matters that He is sovereign over your sickness. Tell them about the times that you were faithless in the last twelve months, then share all the ways God has not stopped being faithful to you this year. And as you do, don’t forget Elizabeth’s words in Luke 1:45: “Blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her from the Lord.” 

2. The Gift of Hope

1 Peter 3:15 (NLT) says, "If someone asks about your hope as a believer, always be ready to explain it.” True hope is not based on how well your treatment is working but in the hard won victory of Christ’s accomplishments on the cross. Comfort your family with the reality that a far better future is coming. Because of the gospel, you can be one hundred percent certain that someday you will be well. It might not be today. It might not be until you reach eternity—but one day, because of Jesus, you will be wholly and completely healed. Tell your family why you believe there is no better option than to throw your whole self into the hands of Jesus, knowing that whatever happens next, heaven rules.

3. The Gift of Love

Show your family the same kind of love that Christ has shown to you. Remember 1 Corinthians 13:4–7: Love is patient, even when you are tired of the topic. Love does not respond with sarcasm, even when you are offered weird medical advice. Love is not irritable, even when you are exhausted. Love is not resentful, even when you have reason to be. Model the kind of love that does not keep records of insensitive comments, but rejoices with the truth.

We do not have to wait until we have good news about our health to celebrate the best gifts of all. Let’s invite our families into our suffering, into our celebration of the hope we have in Christ. When the hard questions come, let’s thank God that one day Jesus will wipe away every health question and concern, and all will be well. Picture it: Christmas morning. It will not be perfect. Everyone at your Christmas table will have pain points, some of them seen, most of them invisible. Isn’t this why Jesus came? To give us the only gift that can truly comfort us—Himself. Instead of leaving the best gifts unopened because they can be awkward, let’s unwrap the joy of His presence together.

The Precious Gift of an Imperfect Christmas was originally published on ReviveOurHearts.com. 

A Refuge in Harvey's Wake

Before Hurricane Harvey arrived in Houston, I hadn’t paid much attention to the piece of paper that’s been hanging in my grandparents’ beach house since August 18, 1983. The paper, now faded and framed, has been kept on wood-paneled walls in their living room in Galveston, a few streets away from the Gulf of Mexico.

My brothers and I were raised in those waves, practically born with seawater in our blood and boogie boards under our arms. We never had any reason to be afraid of the water, even as our parents made us aware of the kind of rip currents that can render a strong person powerless. The ferocity of the open water was simply not on our radar; it was represented only in the brown and white photographs my grandparents had framed above their television. The series of 3x5 shots showed the aftermath of Hurricane Alicia, during which tornadoes tossed aside the roof of the house as though it were made of cardboard.

My grandparents rebuilt the beach house after Alicia, and they made repairs after Allison and Rita and Ike. On their walls, the prayer of one guest has remained through the decades, preserved in calligraphy ink. The handwritten dedication is signed by its author, dated in remembrance of Alicia’s destruction. It begins:

We gave it back to you, dear Lord,
  the Source from which it came
  knowing that You also guard
  the seas, the wind, the rain . . .

Harvey Arrives

Growing up on the Gulf Coast, my favorite glimpses of the Creator always came when the sun began to set, when there was just enough light to wander through the fields of wildflowers lining the path to the water. In the moment when dusk turned to darkness, my friends and I would pass around flashlights and point them at hermit crabs hurrying across the sand, scrambling out of holes, and scurrying to find new homes.

I thought about the hermit crabs the night that Hurricane Harvey arrived in Texas. My roommate had come home with waffle fries and bags filled with flashlights and candles, several sacrilegiously painted with the face of Jesus on the glass. We watched the news as Rockport and Corpus Christi were slammed with winds as the hurricane made landfall. It was the first night I heard helicopters flying overhead, their spotlights illuminating the paths of people running for shelter.

Twelve hours later, my roommate and I were the ones receiving messages warning us that water was rising and that we needed to pack bags and prepare to evacuate. As our local meteorologist looked into the camera and said, “Lord, have mercy,” my roommate and I prayed together, surrendering our hearts to the God who reigns sovereignly over the wind and waves.

Then we picked up what was left on the floor and unplugged all electronics and propped up our couch on cans of coconut milk. Water entered our home, and we ran through hallways, sloshing brown water into bedrooms, throwing every towel and sheet and blanket we owned at the baseboards. When we knew it was useless to continue wringing out water, we sat down on dirty floors muddied with debris and begged God to stop the rain. We rejoiced when, days later, He did.

God’s Goodness in the Bayou City

When my street drained to the point that we could safely open the door without water coming in, I pulled yellow rain boots back on and walked to Brays Bayou, one of the slow-moving, marshy rivers that weaves throughout neighborhoods near the Texas Medical Center and Rice University, not too far from downtown. The earliest storm predictions had anticipated that this bayou would overflow its banks and flood nearby homes, but on the first night, it was still startling to hear that water had risen ten feet in one hour.

As the bayou spilled over its banks into my subdivision, just enough water entered our home to force us to throw out furniture and much of our flooring. Although my roommates and I have had to find other places to stay, we are far better off than the majority of our friends, family members, and neighbors nearby, who have lost everything.

Evidence of this is out on front lawns all over the city. Sidewalks have become a wall of floorboards and insulation and sheetrock, rotting and reeking of mold; a wall of carpet and couches and dining room tables; a wall where wet teddy bears top off the trash.

Almost a week has passed, and helicopters continue to fly over the bayou. Some are still dropping baskets down in order to save people, but at this point, most are attempting to measure the amount of loss with wide-angle shots of the area. Their footage reminds me of my grandparents’ photographs. The same faded brown and white haze seems to have fallen over the city; from above, all that can be seen is water.

As reporters conduct interviews on the ground, the stories pour onto land already saturated with grief. For some time, I sat and watched one interviewer give a live TV broadcast while standing on a boat in the middle of the freeway. As he pulled people to safety, he gave them the opportunity to share their experiences. He talked to a six-year-old girl who had seen her home destroyed, but she was quick to tell the world that she was grateful God had kept her family safe. As her dad picked her up and put her feet on dry ground, the interviewer bowed his head and turned away, not wanting his audience to see the tears that were dripping into the water as he whispered, “God is good.”

News updates continue to be shared in a compressed way: a series of calamities coming one after the other. The reporting style has made me think of the opening chapter of Job. The worst news of Job’s life is narrated in rapid succession, summarized in a few short verses. It’s as though the camera stays focused on the news desk, delivering the devastating facts before finally turning to Job to see how it registers with him. In 1:20, Job responds. He stands up, tears his robe, and shaves his head. He falls to the ground and worships.

Texas Strong

This week, organizations and individuals raising support for survivors have used the slogan “Houston Pride” to unite their fundraising efforts. I love my hometown, but I have had a hard time hashtagging “Houston Pride” because this hurricane has humbled so many of us. It has brought us to our knees before the throne of God, asking Him for grace to submit to His reign in the midst of suffering we simply do not understand.

So much devastation has already occurred, and the aftermath of a hurricane can often be more destructive than the storm itself. When demolition occurs and walls are stripped away, damp water becomes the breeding ground for mosquitoes and mold spores to spread. Buckets and buckets of bleach have been brought into the city in recent days, and clean-up efforts are currently focused on keeping dangerous mycotoxins out of the air.

But more than mold, I fear the contamination of bitterness into our atmosphere. Praise God that it has been kept at bay as the Body of Christ has poured into Houston from all over the United States. Christians have sent supplies and they have sent their people, and their presence has infused hope and joy into every part of this city.

When these precious servants return to their own hometowns, pray that we will not forget the compassion and grace God has shown us through each one of them. Pray for our hearts and for our hope, for our city to be rebuilt on the foundation of Jesus Christ. Join us in praising God, for as we have witnessed here in Houston, when the Lord is the saving refuge of the state, there is no strength like “Texas Strong.” There is no faithfulness like our God’s.

The last lines of the poem hanging in the beach house do not promise a future without storms; in the three decades since these words were penned, they have only worsened. But we who have been rescued by Christ have a shelter in the Most High, a refuge and fortress, in whom we can trust.

Though life for us may sometimes seem
A fragment torn by wind,
You, our God, have never failed
To all our needs attend.

~Patricia C. Neil; August 18, 1983

A Refuge in Harvey's Wake was originally published on ReviveOurHearts.com.