When God's Promises Seem Dead

Maybe you're emptied.
Broken.
Maybe you're at your breaking point. Maybe you've been there for a while.
Maybe for you the possibility of faith in God is hinging on a timely deliverance and answered prayer.
But it hasn't been answered. You've waited & endured & persevered and now you're broken & suffering & emptied.
Maybe your only semblance of God's goodness is a distanced moment eclipsed in a fading memory of a time when God was near.
Maybe the arms that once lightly and freely lifted in praise to His faithfulness now cradle your brokenness.
Maybe the ground that was once fertile to your hope and faith has now hardened to a brittle, hollowed carcass of fears & failures, questions & doubts.
And so here you are on your knees.
Emptied.
What do you make of God when His promises seem dead? When your prayer is unanswered? When your hope is dwindling, your heart is breaking, and your stamina is fading under the heavy weight and pressure of brokenness?

Here's the thing. I believe we have the tendency to bury the promises given to us under a heavy hand of expected failure. Hear me out. Our world is one of empty words and false assurances; really, we have accustomed to a prostitution of promise. Our hearts have been exploited & degraded, objectified & abused in the misuse and tampering of promise. So, we have hardened our hearts, or maybe the world has done it for us. Regardless, I believe we hesitate at any semblance of oath. Whether you grew up in church, identify as a Christian, or randomly found yourself on this blog and are unsure why you're still reading, you carry these 'adulteries of the heart' to God.
These doubts.
Insecurities.
Expectations of failure.

And so there comes moments when our lives seemingly do not reflect the goodness of God, and in our humanness, we drag God's word and promises into a trial of sorts, with the bible and its seemingly lifeless words against our own perceptions and predispositions.

I believe in the power of vulnerability, so I am going to be honest.
I've been struggling lately.
Years of what appears to be unanswered prayers -salvation, healing, deliverance- have heavily weighed on my heart, and I've been pushed into a place of openly considering what to do when God's promises seem dead.

When they feel lifeless. Hopeless. Distanced. Dead.

As I maneuver through seeking Jesus in this difficult season, I was brought to John 11.
Go read it.
Seriously, stop reading this blog for the moment, and go read John 11.
I love the story of Lazarus for the bold, daring, confident declaration it makes on the character and heart of Jesus. I love that it speaks to the hurting, broken, lonely spirits that are pinned under the weight of failed expectations, missed opportunities, and questioning faith in the goodness of God.
But here's what I love the most:
I love that it speaks to the dead. I love the picture of Jesus stepping into the darkness and finality of Lazarus' death, declaring it to be a lie, overcoming possibility, and redefining what it is to be free.
Free from death.
Free from pain.
Free to love.
Free to receive & respond to the call of Jesus.

You see, when the seemingly impossible poked its head, Jesus dismantled it.
Crushed it under His foot, in fact.

As Mary and Martha questioned Jesus for His delayed arrival & the subsequent death of their brother, He stood firm in His mission to revive & awaken what was dead. He strode right up to the tomb and cried out "Lazarus, come forth!"

How daring.
Bold.
Unconventional.

Hear me out.
To my reader: You've got to take a stance on what to make of the audaciousness of the Bible & its promises.
You've got to either dismiss them in their entirety, or wholly embrace the unexpected & unconventional promise in the flesh- Jesus.
Jesus is wild. Unreserved. Untamed. Unrestrained.
Expect to not expect how or when He will bring about His faithfulness. Remember that though it painfully tears at your heart, it is in the seasons of the unknown & scary & fearful that we come into the clearest revelation of God.

In the unknown, through Jesus there is hope.
But there will still be pain. A broken world yields broken hearts, and broken hearts, if not waiting on Jesus, deem faith to be dead.

The thing about pain is that it brings you to the end of yourself, right up to the edge, toes peeked over and all. And all you see is valley. Terrain. Despair.
Maybe that's where you are today.
I know I've glimpsed some of these sights in the last several months.

But this view is not final. It is not ultimate. It is not true.
Because there is a hope in the chasm that bridges what was once decay into a bursting forth of life & faithfulness & goodness & truth.

What if peace is not to be had in securities & comforts & assuring pleasures, but rather is found with your heart bowed low & your hands raised high, declaring Christ's victory in the MIDST of your pain?

The joy of the Cross is that it was precisely in the fiery trial that love withstood and victory was pronounced.

And girl, Jesus longs to resurrect what is dead in you.

So, if God's promises seem dead to you today, if you feel the ache of a dying faith under the heaviness of a broken heart, know that Jesus is standing outside your tomb,
crying out,
"Sweet daughter, come forth!"Love,
One revived & believing heart to another.