2020.
It seems like a life-time ago! From a global pandemic to relational isolation, political unrest, and everything in between—for one reason or another—2020 was a year of unexpected warfare.
To minimize the adversity is pointless. To belittle the struggle is unwise. To discourage the natural outpouring of tear-filled grief is, quite frankly, unbiblical. While believers ought never to sink in self-pity, God’s people are encouraged—commanded—“to weep with those who weep” (Rom. 12:15). In fact, John 11:35 records two of the most poignant words in all of Scripture— “Jesus wept.”
If tears fell from the eyes of our weary Lord, the sinless Son of God, can they not also fall from ours? Spiritual stoicism is deadly poison to the souls of God’s children, and perpetual dulling of God-given emotions will only breed apathy. Just as a bottle can only hold so much before it pops, the human soul can only stifle so much emotion before it eventually pours. The question is: Where do we pour?
It’s okay to cry out to God. It’s okay to be honest about your emotions with the One who created you. It’s okay to pour yourself before Him. In fact, David himself writes in Psalm 62:8, “Trust in him at all times; ye people, pour out your heart before him: God is a refuge for us.” He is an ever-present help in times of trouble!
Casting our cares—even those we would prefer to stifle—upon God is an act of humble submission. It is not weak or wrong; it is good and right. Peter’s command in 1 Peter 5:6-7 is not, most essentially, a plea to cast our cares but rather a command to humble ourselves, first. When we relinquish our fears, worries, doubts, and struggles to God, we are admitting our own finitude. We are learning to surrender—to liberate ourselves from the chains of self-reliance and obstinate self-sufficiency.
Simply put, we are learning to trust. Though trust can be challenging, it is through seasons of uncertainty and confusion that God can, and often does, do His greatest work. In fact, the Oxford Dictionary defines “trust” as both noun and verb—as a “firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability, or strength of someone or something” and as “having confidence in somebody; believing that somebody is good, sincere, or honest” simultaneously.
What I find so interesting about both definitions is how extrospective they are. Trust—as a noun—finds its bedrock in the dependability of something or someone outside of itself; and trust—as a verb—is the intentional relinquishing of control to someone other than oneself.
In other words, true trust moves beyond self. It moves beyond the security of self-improvement, beyond the pressure of self-navigation, and beyond the short-sightedness of self-absorption . . . even in a trial.
It really is quite a magnificent thing, but if we’re honest, it’s also very unnatural. Just one glance throughout the gospels, and we quickly discover that trust was often a challenge—even for those closest to the Savior. Wasn’t it Peter who denied Jesus (not just once, but three times) out of fear (Luke 22) and the apostles whose hearts were hardened regarding the splendor of Christ’s miracles (Mark 6)?
As Paul Tripp wrote, “[God] is the ultimate craftsman, and we are His clay. He will not take us off his wheel until his fingers have molded us into those who really do believe and do not doubt.”
Disbelief, doubt, worry, and anxiety—these are things that, if not exterminated, can cloud our minds, burden our hearts, and engulf our souls . . . especially during seasons that “feel” as overwhelming as 2020.
The reality is: The Christian life will never be free from trials, pain, and hurt. But friends, that’s the beauty of it. If we’re not careful—as we reflect on the twelve-month whirlwind that it was—we can easily mistake the year 2020 as a mystical bundle of pain, stress, and hurt without recognizing difficulty is not relegated to a year . . . it’s just part of life.
Don’t get me wrong, 2020 certainly brought with it an abnormal amount of challenges, trials, and pain; but when the clock struck midnight on January 1, 2021, the sinfulness, the depravity, and the daily struggles of this fallen world did not magically disappear . . . and they’re certainly still here in 2022. The answer to 2020 was never 2021, the answer was—and still is—Christ.
As James writes in what has now become one of my most favorite passage of Scripture, “My brethren count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations; Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience. But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing” (James 1:2-4).
From these verses, what can we learn?
1.) Trials are inevitable.
Notice that James doesn’t say “if” but rather “when.” If you’re a believer, I’d lovingly encourage you to buckle up and armor up, because you will face trials in this life. They’re inescapable, but that’s okay. Each season has been ordained by God for the purpose of sanctification— our growth in Christ-likeness—and because of this, we can count even the darkest of trials as joy (John 15:20, 2 Timothy 3:12, John 16:33, Acts 14:22, 1 Peter 5:10).
2.) Trials are designed by God to expose, strengthen, and purify our faith.
Just as gold is purified through the fire, we are purified through the trying seasons. In fact, the act of God permitting trials in our lives is rooted in His perfect love, because it is often amidst seasons of great difficulty that the Lord humbles, purifies, and grows the Christian. Trials make us more like Christ, so they will always be worth the pain.
3.) Trials work patience which cultivates perfection.
This is not to imply that we will reach a place of sinless perfection this side of Heaven. What James is saying, however, is that the trials of life are designed to bring results–to breed maturity, to cultivate steadfastness, and to enjoy true dependence upon God. There is great purpose amidst seasons of purification, as God shapes His children into who they were called to be.
So, if you currently find yourself in a more challenging season of life, or if you’re simply experiencing the natural repercussions of living in a sinful world, my advice to you remains the same: Stay strong and keep your eyes fixed on Jesus.
Trust God—even in the valley.
Even in the dark.
Even in the loneliness.
Even in the uncertainty.
He is One who knows each need before we ask (Matt. 6:8), One who is working all circumstances for our good and His glory (Rom. 8:28), and One who promises to withhold no good thing from those who walk uprightly (Psalm 84:11). His promises are sure, and His faithfulness is steady (Rom. 4). If we can trust Christ with our eternity, we can trust Him with our daily concerns.
He is the One to whom we can run as we would a Father, because He really does care for His children—He really does love us (Rom. 8). He is the One who sustains our every step. We are nothing apart from Christ and must be emptied of ourselves to recognize our utter dependence upon Him.
He is the One who has redeemed our sin-sick souls. His Gospel radically changes everything—it seeps into every nuance of who we are and becomes our lifelines, our heartbeat. It is no mere spiritual platitude that is accepted once and then ignored for the remainder of our lives but rather the very essence of what shapes us more into the image of Christ each day.
He is the One who is ever-faithful, even when we’re not. He truly is a very present Help in times of trouble–He is near, and He is good. His Word is alive and sharper than any double-edged sword.
So, trials—hard times, tough days, rough seasons? Count them all joy, fellow believer.
I know it may be difficult now, but this season of testing is producing patience and cultivating maturity in you. Your trial has the potential to mold you more into the image of Christ, and for that, it is a great blessing.
So, though 2020 may be over, when more difficult seasons come our way (and mark my words, they will come), instead of asking “why” . . . let’s try to ask “how.”
How can this trial make me more into the image of Christ?
Stay strong. Stay consistent. And stay hopeful.
Fight the good fight.
Turn your eyes upon Jesus.
Take it—one day, one minute, one second—at a time.
God is good, and He is faithful.
He shall never suffer the righteous to be moved (Ps. 55:22).
As I once heard it said, “It’s okay to trust God with tears in your eyes.”