Hey, Cobblestone,
Our God saves. Our God heals. Our God delivers.
Have you ever wondered why? Why does our God save, heal, and
deliver? When God puts his hand to creation and humanity, especially to reverse
an ugly situation, what is the purpose?
We could surely say it’s to glorify himself. But creation,
even if it had no help from humanity, would still suffice to glorify God. And
humanity, apart from the majesty of creation, glorifies God through the miracle
of life itself. For humans to glorify God of their own volition is a wonderful
thing, but God has never had any trouble bringing glory to himself. Maybe
there’s another reason for salvation, healing, and deliverance.
For all of us who are Christians, when we called out for
salvation, salvation was ready at hand. Jesus said, “For the Son of Man came
to seek and to save the lost” (Luke 19:10). We called out in response to
his seeking, and were saved. But healing and deliverance are different in some
respects. Sure, when time ramps back into eternity, we’ll have glorified bodies
and God will wipe away ever tear – meanwhile, there’s affliction and infirmity
and bondage to deal with, and rare indeed is the one who is relieved of all
those, this side of heaven.
In my faith background are heavy doses of what is sometimes
called the word-of-faith movement: name-it-and-claim-it; by Jesus’ stripes we
are healed (always and without question). And yet, people I loved dearly
struggled with and died from the very ailments we prayed against. The only
plausible explanation: our faith wasn’t big enough. To avoid throwing shade on
my ancestors, I’ll say yeah, faith can always be bigger. But healing and
deliverance are far from automatic – and I think there’s a whole other point to
be made anyway.
If I were to ask you “Where does it hurt” or “Where are you
held captive,” what would you say? Physical pain, especially, is so very
locatable; and with some coaxing, the sources of spiritual bondage can be
named. We could pray over those troubles, and I’d be glad to. Now, here’s the
follow-up question: “What would you do with your healing, with your
deliverance?”
Hope that is singular is a lonely hope. Healing that goes no
further than oneself is rather hollow. To ask God’s favor for the favor itself
is to miss the multiplied blessing in others. If you’re willing to hear it,
dear Church, this is the point I wish to make. Romans 15:13 says,
“May the God of hope fill you with joy and peace as you trust
in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
“God of hope” is surely the most glorious phrase in that
verse. Now let me suggest a second-favorite: “so that.” Easily, it’s the most
clarifying phrase in our language. If anybody starts wondering why, in heaven’s
name, the God of hope would fill somebody with joy and peace, “so that” clears
away the confusion in a matter of seconds. Did you see it happen? If not,
please go back and look again – thanks.
Overflowing hope is a generous hope, spilling and splashing,
refreshing the dry and weary spirit. It can’t be contained – isn’t meant to be
– but runs all over the place without fear of running out. It gets into lives
we may or may not know anything about. Overflowing hope is enough.
I’m working on a fresh idea – fresh to me, anyway. With every
request I make of my Father in heaven, I hope to identify at least a few of the
beneficiaries (aside from myself), should he grant the request. If God heals me
of a particular infirmity, or delivers me from a certain besetting sin, who
else could be made glad by the overflow of hope? I’ve toyed with the idea for
most of my adult life, and firmly believe, generally, that for every capability
I have, God provides a corresponding recipient. But at this point I’m ready to
get radically specific and vitally alert to the outcomes. Care to join me?
Those of you who are younger than me might get a head start; those who are
older can start making up time. Anyway, I’m in… um, the Lord helping me, of
course!
Don’t let your hope be lonely. There’s no lack, no valve
upstream with a crooked hand itching to crank it closed. Rather, let your hope be giddy with
generosity. Go ahead: let hope overflow by the power of the Holy Spirit.
Truly, the God of hope lives up to his name.
Grace and Peace (a-bounding),
John
