Gods-Promises.Pdf

God’s Promises for Doubt-Filled Days Copyright © 2018 by Jack Graham All rights reserved P.O. Box 799070 Dallas, TX 75379 1-800-414-7693 (1-800-414-POWER) [email protected] jackgraham.org Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com http://www.eBookIt.com Unless otherwise indicated, Scripture verses quoted are taken with permission from the English Standard Version. GOD’S PROMISES FOR DOUBT-FILLED DAYS IT WAS SUMMERTIME in 1970, and I was visiting the tiny town of Crowell, Texas, which seemed like the backside of nowhere to a young man from the thriving metroplex known as Dallas-Fort Worth. I was a new pastor then, and I was in the middle of preaching a youth revival when I received a call from my brother with the type of news nobody ever wants to hear. “Jack,” he said, “you need to come to Fort Worth. Our dad has been hurt. He has been hit with a hammer.” My mind reeled. A hammer? Dad had a hardware store, but I couldn’t imagine what had gone wrong. As I made arrangements to travel back home, my heart felt deflated and weak. I’d always thought my dad would be around forever, that he was indestructible and powerful and incapable of being harmed. Maybe every son feels like that about his dad. I surely did about mine. When I was a kid growing up in small-town Arkansas, my dad had a drive-in called the Dan-Dee-Dog. I spent countless hours chasing him around that establishment, doing my level best as a toddler to “help” him whenever possible. My efforts didn’t frustrate him; instead, they elicited a smile. All through the week, Dad tended to the innumerable responsibilities involved in running a restaurant; but come Sunday, he shut things down and took our family to church. Profits could wait; Sunday was for honoring the Sabbath. It was important to him. God mattered to him. As did his kids: my dad never missed one of my ballgames, he was never too tired to play catch, and he always boasted about how proud he was of me. ...moments later, my life—life for everyone in my family—was about to dramatically change. When I was 10, my father moved our family to Fort Worth, where he began working in the hardware business. And then, years later, that fateful afternoon in the summer of 1970 arrived, when I found myself standing in a pulpit, preaching the Word of God, having no idea that moments later, my life—life for everyone in my family—was about to dramatically change. When the whole story finally came out, I learned that a shoplifter who had stolen from my father’s store and then was caught red-handed, chose to bludgeon my dad to death with a hammer. Right there in the parking lot of Buddy’s Hardware. My father lived for 10 days following that horrific incident. And then my hero died. The night that Dad passed from this reality into the reality of heaven, I walked into his room at Harris Methodist Hospital, I gripped his hand, and I asked him to please squeeze back. Ever so faintly, I felt his hand slowly tighten around mine. When I walked out that night, I thought, “That is the last time I will ever see my dad alive.” Later that evening, I made my way downstairs to the hospital’s small chapel. In the darkness of that space, and weighed down by the unbelievable loss I’d soon have to bear, I sat down and buried my head in my hands. My Leave It to Beaver family— characterized by simple happiness, innocence, and love—was now the victim of violent crime. Of murder. The blissfulness of my upbringing seemed shrouded in ugliness and sin. It was the most devastating moment of my life, and yet I knew I wasn’t facing the darkness alone. God was with me. In that chapel, He was with me. And in the broader context of my life, He was near. God was an important part of my life prior to that night in the chapel of Harris Methodist Hospital, but it was in the stillness of that small room that I surrendered to Him the entirety of who I was. On the heels of that time of prayer, I knew He’d be my sure and steady Comforter as the storm clouds gathered in my life. Despite the seemingly unbearable pain of losing my dad far too early, God would reveal a rainbow in the midst of the rain. Recently, I was at Rangers Ballpark in Arlington for a Texas Rangers baseball game; and as is common in this part of the country, midway through the afternoon a hefty storm rolled in. Lightning sprinted across the sky, thunder rocked the airwaves, and rain pelted everything in sight. But then, just as the fat drops began to thin, both ends of a vibrant rainbow came into view, a divine photograph developing right before my eyes. I sat there for several minutes to take in the splendor of that rainbow and consider with fresh appreciation God’s covenant promise with His people, that He would be faithful to them all of their days. It’s a promise you and I both need still, given the challenges “these days” tend to present. I’m sure you’ve noticed that ours is a wounded world. Planet Earth is in pain—real pain, given that the Scriptures liken it to a mother enduring the rigors of labor. Granted, I haven’t experienced childbirth firsthand; but from what I hear, it’s no walk in the park. Terrorism threatens every major city on the planet, natural disasters all too frequently make headlines, and from the look of things, wars will be with us for as long as humans are alive. Add to that reality the fact that experts believe our world’s nonrenewable resources will be exhausted within a century if we don’t take dramatic action, and you’ve got a clear picture of a planet that is not evolving, but devolving. No wonder God’s Word likens the situation to urgent and intense groans of pain. Like mine, your life has probably proven what Scripture says, that in this world we will face trouble... I’ve read that some 10,000 people in our world die each week of starvation. That’s almost 1,500 a day—almost 60 every single hour—from lack of food alone. Others suffer from diseases spread by dirty drinking water, and still others wrestle with physical disabilities or with economic downturns or with the pain of marital strife. Indeed, pain is global. But it’s terribly local too. Like mine, your life has probably proven what Scripture says, that in this world we will face trouble—trials and difficulties and death, of a dream, of a relationship, of a loved one, of hope itself. It is in those moments when the bottom falls out that you and I both wonder how we’ll survive. We doubt God’s presence and His care. We doubt our ability to overcome the trial. We doubt that we’ll ever move on. But a person cannot doubt what he doesn’t first believe. And it is our fundamental belief in God—in His power, His presence, and His desire for good to prevail—that eventually paves the path to better days. It is our fundamental belief in God—in His power, His presence, and His desire for good to prevail—that eventually paves the path to better days. John 11 tells of a first-century family that Jesus loved very much. Mary, Martha, and Lazarus—two sisters and a brother— were intimate with Jesus, often spending time in His presence to learn from Him, love Him, and share life as good friends do. The text says that one day Lazarus fell ill, and Jesus—the obvious One who could heal him—was nowhere to be found. Word was sent to Jesus that the man He loved like a brother was dying; but surprisingly, He went on about His day ministering in Jerusalem. Even though Lazarus clearly needed Him. Even though the situation was dire. The rest of the story involves Jesus making His way to Bethany —where Lazarus’s body had lain lifeless for four days straight—in His own time and on His own terms, and then miraculously raising His friend from the dead. But the point I want to make is that having a close, personal relationship with Jesus Christ did not exempt this beloved family from walking through deep pain and loss. Mary and Martha must have had their fair share of “Why, God? Why?” moments between when their brother died and when his life was amazingly restored. Didn’t their Savior know their hearts were breaking? Didn’t He care that their loved one was gone? Maybe God wasn’t as good or as great as they’d once believed Him to be. In a recent poll, people were surveyed to find out what they would ask God, if they could get just one question answered. The most common response—by a landslide—was “Why do bad things happen to good people?” The argument behind the question goes something like this: “If there really is a God, and He really is all- knowing, all-powerful, loving and caring and kind, then how could He possibly allow pain and suffering to occur? Could it be that He isn’t actually powerful enough to do anything about the challenges we face in this life? Or maybe He isn’t as kind as everyone makes Him out to be.

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