Frank Friday - Jacob's Not The Only Wrestler

If you were alive earlier this week an had any access to the news, you hear about Troy Davis. This post is not specifically about him. Rather it is about a struggle I had with God as a result of that story. It's about a switch that was flipped in my heart. I hope it ignites something in yours.

I was drawn into the news reports about the Supreme Court deciding if they would give Troy Davis a stay. I watched on an off until they finally came out and gave his time of death. That really did me in. Not so much because I was sad about it, but because it really brought home to me the concept of God's sovereignty.

Only God, Troy Davis and Office MacPhail know if Troy Davis was guilty. That is a fact. The other fact is that regardless of guilt or innocence, on Septamber 21, 2011, Troy Davis lost his life. After hearing he was dead, I felt compelled to pray.

"God, you are the only one we can talk to that knows the truth, either way. In my head I say if he was innocent, it feels so tragic that he died for something he didn't do. But, if he was guilty, then justice was served. But we, who are left here, witnessing and experiencing this, don't know which is true. People who believe he was innocent will question why you would let this happen. And they will question why you did not answer their prayers. But if he was innocent then your answer to their prayers for his life to be spared was no. And we never like the answer no without some explanation. But in Your sovereignty, you don't have to answer. Not everyone can deal with that. Now, those who believe he was guilty will ask why you let this thing drag on for so long. And I know you have your reasons. I don't feel strongly either way about his guilt or innocence. I just sit in both awe and confusion as I try to comprehend an incomprehensible God. I can understand a little bit about how Jacob felt wrestling with you that night in Peniel (Genesis 32:23-32). And as I try to lay my head on a pillow and sleep tonight, I pray I make my peace with my struggle."

I tried to sleep, but I was struggling. There were so many questions like, "Who are we to decide who lives or dies?" That's God's job isn't it. And that goes for murderers and the justice system alike. "How do I as a Christian answer people with their own "why" questions about You Heavenly Father?" Just on and on it went.

Finally my husband asked me what was wrong because I was tossing, turning, sighing and crying. literally. I tried to explain as best I could what I was struggling with. Bless his heart, he understood. I finally said, "You know what? I am ready for Jesus to come get his children. This place we live in is so messed up and I'm just ready to go home. Come Lord Jesus Come. Your daughter anxiously awaits the Rapture"

He proceeded to tell me that he had so much stuff he still wanted to do, that he wasn't ready for it. The number one item on his list? He hadn't led anyone to a saving knowledge of Christ yet. Wow!

"So okay", I thought, "get busy so Jesus can come and He take that person with us." I mean I really was longing for heaven.

He then proceeded to ask me this question: "Don't you want to see our girls grow up and do well in life?"

Without one second of hesitation I said, "If I had to choose between them dealing with this increasingly immoral, increasingly hostile toward Christians and Christianity world we live in and them being caught up in the skies with all other believers and ushered into God's presence forever, I choose heaven. There is nothing here better than heaven. Nothing."

Silence.

And then it hit me. I desire the eternal. And I am anxious for the rapture. But until then, while I'm here on this sphere called Earth, I need to keep that eternal perspective about everything. I need to take that fire for eternity (heaven) and use it in my everyday life until Jesus does come for His children. I've had head knowledge of it for a long time. But that night, it became heart knowledge. And that is a wonderful blessing. I pray I never let it fade.

Blessings to you all,

Mari