For Wilshire Baptist Church
It was one of those on-line typos that makes you cringe, makes you laugh, then makes you think.
Wilshire’s Helen Moore-Montgomery sent me this birthday greeting Sunday on Facebook: “HAPPY SABBATH BIRTHDAY DEAR BROTHER, MAY THE NEW MILE BRING SMOOTH ROADS AND HAPPY TRAILS.” (Helen always types in caps.)
I answered: “Happy trials indeed! Thanks so much!”
Do you see it? I wrote “trials” instead of “trails.” I didn’t notice it but Helen did and pointed it out right away.
I cringed at first, and then I laughed and answered: “That was pretty sloppy of me as a writer! But, I definitely had trials last year, and we got through them as happily as possible. So now we’re looking forward to Happy Trails ahead!”
And then I began to think: There’s a philosophy of faith – and actually, there are plenty of scriptures in the Bible – that say we should be as happy in our trials as we are in our triumphs; if we have faith that God is leading the way, we can be happy and content in whatever we face. To which I say, “Bunk!”
I don’t believe we have to be happy or content with our trials, regardless of their source. Even if God is truly putting us through something, we have the freedom to push back and say in all honesty, “Hey, I’m not happy about this!” We can pray silently or even shout out loud, “Stop, leave me alone!” There’s nothing that says we must go along happily with our trials.
Still, we can and should be happy when we persevere and can look back at the trial-laden trail we’ve navigated and endured. And, we’d be doing right to send up prayers of gratitude and thanksgiving to God for walking with us and leading us through.
I think that’s what I was feeling last week in the three days between LeAnn’s birthday and mine, when we took a short Hill Country trip to Fredericksburg and a hike to the top of Enchanted Rock. If you don’t know, Enchanted Rock is a massive dome of pink granite that rises 430 feet from its base. That’s not so high, but unlike other hikes where you have grit and crumbled rock and sometimes steps to steady your feet on, this is hard, semi-smooth granite that can be slippery under foot. The “trail” is mostly a zigzag up the bare face until you reach the flat summit.
It was cold and blustery with a wind chill in the 30s as we started out, and I had a gnawing feeling that maybe we were in over our heads. But we had chosen that morning because we could go up with an interpretive guide who would tell us all about the rock’s geology and history, and I looked around and saw there were people of all ages and stages of life hiking to the top. So we went, and I’m so glad we did.
In many ways, the rock climb reminded me of the past year, which Helen was hinting at in her message. It reminded me of the doctors and techs who guided us through months of cancer treatments, and the dozens of patients in the waiting rooms who were on the same hike through chemo and radiation. No doubt most of us had misgivings about what lay ahead – and we weren’t happy about it at all – but we were going to climb the rock that stood before us. And, we might argue with God along the way. I know I did.
I tend to think God doesn’t mind a good tussle with us from time to time. After all, when we’re wrestling with God over our trials, we’re at least acknowledging God is real. And if we can inject trust into the argument, we just might discern that God is the best trail guide for our trials whether we’re happy or not.
Incidentally, the days between our birthdays also marked the 15th anniversary of the first time LeAnn and I got together for dinner and started what I call our “conversation.” I had gone through another trial that year that was anything but happy. I argued with God then too, but God put me on a new trail that has been happier than I could have imagined and certainly so much more so than any trail I could have mapped out for myself.