What do you call a Christian on their worst, lowest, most lost day?

When the year is new but it’s the same old you walking into it,

surrounded by the identical supporting cast from 2015 and a plot that feels like an under-budget rehash of last season,

When your mood flickers between grateful and glum depending on the stories flashing past in your Facebook news feed

A friend receives a terrible diagnosis (grateful for your own health)
A neighbor lands a new, prestigious job (glum as you scan the web for new jobs)
An associate asks prayer for an unspoken need for a wayward teen (grateful that your children are safe right now)
A church friend posts an invitation to a marriage seminar (glum that your spouse would never consider going).

When you’re only half-joking with people that you’re taking a sick day out of disappointment for not winning the Powerball

which makes you feel guilty for sincerely wanting all that money

which leads to more guilt because gambling, even one dollar, is throwing money away, especially for you because what is the likelihood that if God wanted you to be a billionaire He’d deliver it to you through the Powerball?

which makes you remember your goal of cultivating true contentment with what you have,

which you could do if you hadn’t just read that blog post about how people don’t have because they don’t ask, or pray long enough or hard enough, or catch onto God’s vision for them, or ask a big God for big things, or pray believing for the thousands of cattle on God’s hills, or fast and march around your prayers like Jericho, or get enough other people to pray, too,

I mean, perfectly respectable looking Christians are telling you it’s practically a billboard of your pathetic faith that you drive an old car that breaks down and wonder where the money for the electric bill will come from if the temperature continues to drop, so which way is God’s way – praying big or fostering contentment with little? Was there some class on pure, uncomplicated faith that other people got but you missed?

Then, the reading in your morning devotions is all about not worrying about tomorrow, what you’ll eat or drink or use to power your laptop, which reminds you that you’re a terrible Christian even after all these years and all this trying because that’s EXACTLY what you were just doing.

That idea (the terrible Christian thing) gets reinforced when you watch a news video about a young couple who started an earth-friendly business that also helps empower people in poorer countries to create their own businesses. Now, you’re not only a terrible Christian; you’re also an under-achieving believer and you turn to ask your husband if the two of you should consider some greater venture in Jesus’ name but he dozed off watching the news – the six o’clock news – so then you think the least you can do is buy some of their product, but you remember your resolve to spend less so, there’s not even that.

And now, you notice the news report that North Korea says they have the H-bomb and can wipe America off the planet, so you remember last year’s resolution to memorize more Scripture just in case “they” come and take away all the Bibles but you stink at memorizing, so six verses into John 15 you bailed on the effort. Maybe you should start again. Maybe you should have started two weeks ago.

And just when you thought you couldn’t feel like a worse Jesus-follower, you see the story about the Canadian pastor kept in solitaire digging ditches all day in a North Korean labor camp. He risked telling North Koreans about Jesus while you pray for opportunities to witness at work but secretly hope they never come because you’re so tongue-tied about your faith.

When suddenly the Holy Spirit says, “Enough! Get outside and look at the stars.”

The air is crisp and the night sky is clear, glittering with Orion and his compatriots. Here, in the dark, you exhale. You think about Abraham under the stars and Jacob dreaming of a staircase to heaven, of Paul shipwrecked on an island looking at the night sky, and childless Sarah on a cool desert night. And the same God sees you, knows your name, writes your story.

They felt lost sometimes. They felt confused. They felt small and wondered where God’s great promise was. God never lost sight of them even when they panicked or wavered or strayed. He knew the story He planned for them would take a lifetime to tell.

God whispers, “Who are you going to let tell you your story? Your mood? The enemy? Facebook? People who only see you in the now? You in your own worst moments? Or Me, the Author and Perfecter of your faith?”

The stars remind you to answer with faith. God writes my story. He is such a Master Storyteller that He’ll even weave the moments of confusion and doubt into the tale in a way that ultimately testifies to redemption and the power of saving grace.

So, when the year is new but it’s the same old you walking into it, stand out under the stars and remember that God lives outside of time. Give Him every frustration, doubt, fear, failure, worry, and stumbling step.

Then watch the God of Abraham, Sarah, of Jacob and Paul, tell a story of adventure, of near disaster averted by patient endurance and a creative, redemptive God who never fails, with your life.

Who are you going to let tell you your story?

What do you call a Christian on their worst, lowest, most lost day? A Child of the Most High God, Redeemed by the Blood of Jesus, Saved for Good Works, Wholly Loved, Full of Eternal Life and Destined for Glory, Friend of God.

What Do You Call a Christian on Their Worst, Lowest, Most Lost Day? https://t.co/aYb0TbZ2ZP #amwriting #faith #failedresolutions

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) January 15, 2016