When I am in pain, my knee-jerk reaction is to find the way out. I’ve joked with my family that I am not a survivor. I love to read WWII stories, and I admire the bravery and the perseverance of people who endured food shortages, enemy hostility, danger—the complete and total interruption of their lives. But even in my admiration, I’m always thinking, yeah, I couldn’t survive all of that. If a major war breaks out in our country, then Jesus, take me.
In August, Lori Johnson blogged about how we sometimes look for escape routes instead of pressing through in faith. I love that! I think it puts language to what I sometimes do when I’m in pain. If life just got really hard, I’m looking for the fastest way out, or at least the fastest way through. Jesus, heal us all now. Jesus, move in this situation now. Jesus, tell me what to do now.
When I’m in that mindset, I’ve bought into the lie, the deception, that the way to peace is to be without pain, or at the very least to be free from adverse circumstances. If my children would quit fighting, if our vehicles would run well, if our fence wouldn’t fall down, if our budget wasn’t so squished, if everyone could stay healthy—then all would be well.
Paul writes in Philippians 4:6-7 that if we will surrender our worries to God in prayer and be grateful for what he’s done, then there’s a peace that comes. And it’s a peace that surpasses all understanding, meaning it’s beyond our logic or our reasoning. And that peace will guard our hearts and our minds in Christ Jesus.
This verse teaches me that I can’t be at peace and worried at the same time. I can’t be at peace and complaining at the same time. But the choice is mine. I have to present my requests to God instead of fixating on them in my mind. I have to remind myself of all the good God has done in my life instead of focusing on the temporary thing that’s bringing me pain or worry or frustration.
When I make the right choice, when I choose well, then God’s peace becomes like a shield of protection that surrounds my heart and my mind.
If we keep reading in Philippians 4, we see how to walk this out. Our prayer life and what we think about matters (vv. 6-9). It looks like contentment, whether we have abundance or shortage this month (vv. 10-12). This is how—through the peace of God that surpasses all understanding—we are able to do all things through Christ who strengthens us (v. 13).
So, it starts with surrender, with the laying down of our worries. It builds as gratitude grows in our heart and as we train our minds to think of what is good and true. And eventually, we become women who are content with whatever our circumstances look like.
I love the words of Habakkuk in his final chapter (3:17-18). He says, even if there’s no crop, no cattle, no security—even still, I will rejoice in the God of my salvation. I was doing a Bible study recently that asked us to write out our own “Even if” prayer, like Habakkuk. I’m going to share mine, and I want to challenge you to write out your own.
Even if my children are whining and bickering.
Even if I’ve had three interruptions before I could finish this sentence.
Even if my budget for the week is gone.
Even in sickness. Even in pain. Even in disappointment. Even in grief.
Yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation.
The cross was enough. Jesus is sufficient. If we’ll cling to him, he will exchange our temporary pain for his eternal peace.
“And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful.” Colossians 3:15 (ESV)
We would like to thank Laura Brandenburg for writing this blog.
