I don’t know about you, but when I was in junior high, one of my mom’s friends would send me business card sized “Pass It On” cards in the mail to encourage me. One had a picture of a teddy bear and said, “No God, No Peace.” Another read, “Keep Hangin’ On,” and depicted a cat clutching a tree branch with its paws. A different design featured a Precious Moments girl with teary eyes walking along a road with the accompanying encouragement, “There is no road too hard when we walk by His side.” Christian bookstores stocked a plethora of these little cards.
I’d forgotten all about the phenomena until recently when I opened a Bible (one of my six versions) and out fell a “Pass It On” bookmark that instructed, “When you can’t take it any more, take it to the Lord.” The photo of the yelping polar bear seemed to indicate that even furry mammals reach an end point of stress tolerance.
My nose wrinkled as I examined the passé card between my thumb and forefinger. My brain responded: trashcan contents. I was about to flick it across the room when my spirit cautioned me: clichés don’t negate truth.
That card prompted me to contemplate what “take it to the Lord” really looks like.
Do I wait until my circumstances get uncontrollable before I offer them up to the Lord – or do I seek first the kingdom of God (Matthew 6:33)? Do I lay my desires on the altar, only to snatch them back and repeat this cycle – or do I place myself on the altar and ask the Lord to bind the living sacrifice with cords because this is my reasonable service (Romans 12:1)? Do I forge ahead in my endeavors and request God’s blessing – or do I pray for wisdom to lead me, and discretion to preserve me (Proverbs 2:11)? Do I worry about the things of tomorrow until I remember the lilies – or do I anticipate the Lord’s mercies coming new every morning (Lamentations 3:23)?
When the stress from midterms, all-nighters and breakups tears us down, we can remember we serve a God who created the supernovas, considers the sparrows and counts your split-ends.
The same God who fashioned Adam’s brain from dust is the same God about whom we (frequently) dialogue. The same God who parted the Red Sea and drowned the Egyptians is the same God to whom we (sometimes) pray. The same God who wet the wool for pre-warrior Gideon is the same God of whom we (seldom) make demands. The same God who honored faithful Mordecai and Esther is the same God for whom we (rarely) risk. The same God who opened the eyes of a man born blind is the same God in whom we (now and then) seek fresh vision. The same God who gave living water to the adulteress at the well is the same God from whom we (periodically) acknowledge our sustenance. The same God who healed the woman’s hemorrhage just from touching his robe is the same God towards whom we (occasionally) crawl and yet stop short of fingering his hem.
If this is my God, why do I wait to approach him? Why do I mistrust his response? As Joanne Jung told us in chapel, my saying “I can’t” denies God’s power, and “I won’t” denies God’s authority. This all-powerful, all-knowing God deserves nothing less than an emphatic YES.
The cheesy “take it to the Lord” card from junior high remains tucked in my Bible. Turns out it’s a good reminder at mid-semester crunch time.
Pass it on…and get ready to be amazed.
