This Is Not How This Was Meant To Be
As I sat in my backyard digging up weeds and rocks, a familiar refrain echoed in the recesses of my heart: “This is not how this was meant to be.” This sentiment has taken on new immediacy in an era of quarantines, lockdowns, and social distancing. But really, this refrain tends to whisper more loudly, for me, at least, at this time of year. Mother’s Day is such a loaded day, full of celebration and heartache, often co-mingled in one experience.
The exhaustion and exuberance of new life.
Empty arms and an empty womb.
Generational family celebrations.
Unfulfilled desires.
Strained relationships.
A mourning child.
This is not how this was meant to be.
We know how things should have been: there should have been gardens, eternal life, and unbroken communion between created and Creator. Instead, there are thorns, unavoidable death, damage to our very core, and a broken relationship between the Perfect One and the sinner. We see the sting of sin everywhere; you don’t have to look far. In days like this, and in times like these, the weight of how things are threaten to undo us, as Luther penned in his familiar hymn. How easily does the enemy distract us from what is to come by the despair of the present.
This is not how this was meant to be.
God, knowing our weaknesses and needs, ordained His Word to address everything needed for life and godliness. He doesn’t sugarcoat life in between the Garden and the New Heaven.
One thing I love about the canon of Scripture is knowing each book is there for a purpose. God, knowing our weaknesses and needs, ordained His Word to address everything needed for life and godliness. He doesn’t sugarcoat life in between the Garden and the New Heaven. He gives us the psalms filled with lament to show us that frustration and despair can be felt and experienced without sin, and that weeping and mourning are natural parts of the human experience.
My church is currently studying Psalm 23, a passage often quoted and well loved by the Church. The first verse tells us the LORD is our Shepherd. That is no typo; rather, an intentional reference to Jehovah, the I AM from Exodus. This Shepherd is an all-sufficient and self-sufficient being who cannot be lacking because every need is perfectly met in Him. The psalm goes on to say that, because of our identity with the Shepherd, we shall not want. I have always interpreted that in the context of desire and subsequent content. “If I belong to the Shepherd, then I will be content.” A better understanding of the root word chacer is a need (or lack thereof, in this case). In fact, other translations word it this way:
The LORD is my shepherd; I have all that I need. (NLT)
The LORD is my shepherd, I lack nothing. (NIV)
This does not guarantee all of our desires will be met, but He withholds nothing that we need.
This distinction between needs and wants is so important here. If we belong to the Shepherd, all of our needs are met in Him – we lack nothing, we are full and complete in the all-sufficient One. This does not guarantee all of our desires will be met, but He withholds nothing that we need. The truth is, even when I feel lonely and my longings feel stifling, I lack nothing.
This is not how this was meant to be.
So how does our relationship to the Shepherd bring encouragement when things are not as they were intended to be? We can trust that we lack no good thing (Ps 34:10). We can bring our mourning to Him and He won’t run from it (Psalm 23:4). It may be difficult to see at times and may look different than we envisioned, but He desires abundance for us (Ps 23:5; 66:12). And, lastly, we can lift our weary heads and see with certainty that what was meant to be is coming:
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD
forever.
Bethany Sibbitt is the podcast coordinator for Dayton Women in the Word. She wants to live in a world where she has unlimited access to brunch and coffee.