The ILLogic of Worry (Is. 26; Ps. 139)

In perfect peace. That's how I want to live as a Christian. That's how I am supposed to live, daily trusting in His power to save me spiritually, to preserve me and help me persevere, to keep me physically, to take me home when this life is over. 

The reality is that I often let my heart be troubled. The reality is that is doesn't have to be. The gap between those two is the problem. It is at that point I have imperfect peace. 

The past few weeks have been a study in being illogical for me; it was a test, and I am pretty sure that for a good portion of eleven days I failed somewhat miserably. The test shouldn't have been unexpected. I have been reading, teaching, and speaking of this quite intensively, about trusting in the Lord, for the past few months.

Elijah's departure from trust after seeing God whack 400 false prophets; the kings of Israel and Judah and their issues with trust when surrounded; the writing about trust in my last few posts; the encouraging of the women in Bible study to place their complete trust in God regardless of their circumstances . . . I just should have seen it coming. I should have been looking forward to letting God strengthen my faith through a time of uncertainty in my physical health. I often tell the girls that the LORD gives me many opportunities to test whether or not I believe what I teach, and usually, those opportunities are right on the heels of the teaching. Maybe it is the fact that I have always been a student and/or teacher, but I like making an A. Failing grades have never been acceptable.

I started well and wasn't really disturbed until I had a phone call that tweaked me from a nurse at my doctor's office. I let it provoke me. I was the study of what NOT to do: I replayed it in my mind, repeated it in my conversation, reviewed it at night if I woke up and couldn't go immediately back to sleep, and reminded myself of it every time it slipped away. For a few days, I petted my worry and watered my fear until it grew into a monster that threatened to consume me. The physical aspect of the test turned out to be nothing worthy of worry. The spiritual aspect of the test was revealing. 

In my quiet time lately, I have been reading using a chronological Bible and have been immersed in Kings, Chronicles, Isaiah, and some minor prophets all scrambled together for context. Isaiah 26 is a song of salvation to be sung by Judah at a future date when the God will bring about salvation for Judah. Matthew Henry says this in his commentary: "It [the song] is prepared to be sung when that prophecy should be accomplished, for we must be forward to meet God with our thanksgivings when he is coming towards us with his mercies." I love the image of God coming toward me with His mercies. It's the going forward when things are hard, when I am in the waiting room of life that is hard. From the beginning, God was preparing the way for the Messiah to come through the house of Judah, and through Jesus, we, too can find peace in these words in Isaiah about a future time, a new Jerusalem in which we shall live one day.

Isaiah 26:3 first caught my eye several weeks ago in my quiet time. It is a familiar verse to me, and it was a reminder that I should've latched onto and better heeded at the time: "You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You." The trust is, I can trust in the One who created me, who knows me more intimately than any other and has already recorded the length of my days in His book, as Psalm 139:16 relates: 

You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book.                 Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.

I should've fixed my mind on Him more securely from the first phone call from the nurse telling me another test was needed, but I didn't, and the second shouldn't have phased me at all, but it did.

When I asked her to pray for me, a friend gently nudged me back from the ledge of fear I had willingly stepped out upon. She reminded me that His goodness is constantly being poured out on me regardless of my circumstances (and how my own fear magnified them); she reminded me that the process of refining to be more like Him is painful sometimes but full of sweet grace; she reminded me to lean into the storm of my trial--all of which I needed to hear! God was being good to remind me through my friend's conversations, texts, and prayers for me that He was good, faithful, kind, merciful, loving, Sovereign, and worthy of my trust. I just forgot for a few minutes here and a few minutes there until it stacked up and pushed aside my trust. 

My reminder for myself for the next time a test comes that might actually be a real trial (because it will come) is this: "Be prepared to live what you say you believe, Kelly Pate. Whether I am prepared or not, either way, trials will come in this life, tests that should strengthen me, refining fires that should purge the dross away and leave the good stuff behind. That is His mercy, His discipline, His plans for my life accomplishing their purpose. My job is to keep my focus on Him at all times no matter what. If I do this, my mind will be at peace because He will do the work to keep it at peace, because He is able. If I am truly focused on and thinking about Him, there is no room for doubt or fear because He is omnipotent, faithful, trustworthy, pure, holy . . . "

Imperfect peace or perfect peace? The choice is mine, and it seems that only ILL comes from worry, and that's just not logical.