The Heavy Hand of The Lord

As I think I wrote before my journey to Ethiopia, I was studying Ezra and his journey in preparation. A phrase that is used throughout Ezra-Nehemiah is "The hand of the Lord was on" him, me, them, etc...

The idea clearly being that God's giving and protective hand was present. It supplied their needs and protected them from thugs. That sounded very desirable for a journey, so that became my prayer.

And God answered big time. We got in, got our baby, and got out. We skirted dangers and sickness. We were blessed with new friendships. The travel was easier than you could imagine. He surrounded us with locals who treated us like kings and queens.

It was a little weird. We have been with God long enough, that we have grown accustomed to more testing and trials. But as we asked for his hand to be on us, he made it stunningly obvious around every turn that he there that not only was He making our path straight, but smooth and well-lit too.

On the flight to Ethiopia, I read "The Barbarian Way" by Erwin McManus. In it he references, Hebrews 11. He talks about the heroic people;

"who through faith conquered kingdoms, ministered justice, and gained what was promised; who shut the mouths of lions, quenched the fury of the flames, and escaped the edge of the sword; whose weakness was turned to strength; and who became powerful in battle and routed foreign armies. Women received back their dead, raised to life again."

We read those accounts and we say, "Yeah, give me faith. I want a double portion." If we read that we see faith like Popeye sees spinach. Just a little bit of that, and victory is ours.

But that is not the only outcome for faith. It may not even be the most common outcome. Hebrews 11 lists some other outcomes:

Others were tortured and refused to be released, so that they might gain a better resurrection. Some faced jeers and flogging, while still others were chained and put in prison. They were stoned; they were sawed in two; they were put to death by the sword. They went about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, persecuted and mistreated— the world was not worthy of them. They wandered in deserts and mountains, and in caves and holes in the ground.

Name it and claim it, baby.

Thinking of this reality at 32,000 feet over the Atlantic, I remembered that we could just as easily be crushed under the hand of the Lord as be sheltered beneath it. Was I okay with that?

Was I okay with my parents losing another son? Was I okay with my children growing up with just faint memories of their mom and dad? If God, for his glory, decided to slam our plane into the Alps, what would my dying prayer be? "Please, no!" or "As you wish"?

Surrendering to His hand had to mean surrendering to whoever He mysteriously is, not simply as I desire to imagine him to be.

I prayed again for his hand to be on me, and for the faith to accept the pressure and protection from his hand equally.