Stuck in the “Not Yet” Promises?
I struggle to find my breath, but not because of the high altitude where I sit on a massive boulder. The view before me is more than my eyes can take in, more than my finite brain can process. I have never felt so small, or so dependent on oxygen to fill my lungs. I am not as self-sufficient as I believe, nor in control as I want to be.
Brett is close beside me, and he tells the kids to sit down in the presence of the majesty surrounding us. We are only at the second stop as we make our way through Arches National Park in Utah. Yet even before arriving at this place in the desert of Utah, my mind had already been enraptured by the stunning drive through the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. I was in awe and worship of our Creator God.
Brett explains to us how God had a purpose for this exact location before the Flood, even though it would have looked entirely different. Now we see the drastic remnants after the Flood from thousands of years ago. However, He isn’t finished with this land yet—He will someday remake it into something else.
“If He has purpose and design for all that we see here, then you can trust that He has a purpose for you.”
I allow his words to sink in, feeling swallowed up by the vastness of the desert. A pleasant breeze comforts us as the sun beats down. I wish to stay on this immovable rock for the rest of the day.
The twins are restless, jumping and climbing like the boys they were made to be—full of adventure and danger. We reluctantly get up and make our way to the next viewing spot. After a few hours of driving and hiking, I’m glad I left that place to see even more of the many breathtaking layers of sedimentary rock.
As we make our way around the park, I call the big kids over to read the displays with the descriptions of the land, rocks, and arches. We easily point out the errors—references to millions of years ago, the Jurassic Era that was supposedly before man existed, and evolutionary explanations for what we see in front of us.
This trip was perfectly timed to bring into reality the truths Brett and I have been teaching from The New Answers Book 1: Over 25 Questions on Creation/Evolution and the Bible, edited by Ken Ham. The kids are learning to defend the Bible and their faith regarding Creation, refuting evolutionary theories, understanding how those theories impact every thread of our society, and recognizing evidences of a worldwide Flood that occurred about 4,500 years ago.
What we have studied while sitting on our couches in our living room is now coming to life before our very eyes.
“All of this shows that evolution cannot be true. It’s too magnificent, too detailed. There has to be a Creator who is over all this,” Kherington declares with confidence.
We point out the intricate layers of rock that could only have been formed by an intense, exuberant amount of water that forced sand, soil, and other material to be quickly laid down and, over time, hardened into rock.
When I sat on that boulder, overwhelmed by the scenery around me, I couldn’t shake the reality that something this beautiful, magnificent, and breathtaking came to be from a Flood—from destruction, from chaos, from death.
Brett said that we can trust that God has purpose for our lives. The Spirit continued to speak through His Creation surrounding me. If He can make something this majestic from the greatest, most destructive worldwide catastrophe to date, what will He do with me—my lowly, finite, unfixed, disease-riddled self?
My body and soul were weary—not from the two-day road trip to get here. I had been solo parenting for a few weeks prior, had an emotional personal situation arise, and had been fighting complications with my bowel disease. Suffice it to say, my faith was a bit shaky, believing the Lord was holding out on me.
The day before was Palm Sunday, and recently it came up with the kids what the word “Hosanna” meant. I explained how the Jews were rejoicing, “Save, please!” Then, only a few days later, the same people were shouting, “Crucify Him!” I didn’t say another word because the Spirit gave me one of those playful side squeezes—no condemnation, just the subtle revelation:
“Are you not doing the same with Me?”
I’ve been fighting bowel complications for a few years now. It progressively became worse about a year ago, and I’ve been working with a practitioner to find the root issues and solutions. I had finally experienced a breakthrough and had begun to see a light at the end of the tunnel. Meanwhile, I’ve been praying and praying for healing. It’s been a rollercoaster ride of ups and downs—and so has my faith. I had been shouting, “Lord, please save me from this!” and praising Him for the positive changes.
But then my condition immediately turned for the worse. My fist had been clenched tight, shaking it at Him. I might as well have been saying, “Crucify Him!”—blaming Him for not saving me like I think He should, just like the Jews blamed Him for not saving them from their bondage to Roman rule.
My cry has been, “Do you not see me, Lord!? Have I not been doing everything right?!” I’m a dietitian nutritionist, for goodness' sake. How embarrassing that I can’t even fix myself. Also, I thought I was doing everything right in that relationship, yet the shattered pieces seem to never fit back together.
The night before, Brett and I were whispering in the hotel bathroom, hoping not to wake the kids who desperately needed sleep. I was miserable with discomfort, and fear was rising over the possibility of inflammation. Brett lovingly asked me, “Do you think you are trying to control it all?”
Control. Trying to fix me. I’m not OK unless I’m healed. I’m somehow not enough, or not doing something right, so the Lord must be withholding my answer.
Yeah, control sounds like my struggle in most areas of my life. Because if I can figure out the problem and be healed, or finally be understood, or have the layers of my own broken soul perfectly aligned and whole, then I’ll be stable and secure. I’ll be enough. I won’t be rejected.
These thoughts tumble through my mind as we continue hiking around the park. At the visitor center, statues of wildlife are displayed to educate us on what we might see, and someone mentions they haven’t seen any mountain goats.
I pray out loud, “Yes, Lord, send us a ram stuck in the bushes!” I laugh at my own joke. Then I immediately respond, “Ha! He just answered me, ‘I already did that for you, Christina.’ ”
Kher looks at me quizzically—either she didn’t get the joke, or her teenage self is convinced that her mom is losing it. Probably the latter. Maybe I’m not getting enough oxygen at this high altitude—or maybe it’s exactly the atmosphere I need to hear the Spirit more clearly.
“I already did that for you.”
His Words reverberate off the rock structures and settle deep in my heart. He already sent the Ram. And here I am, still praying for Him to send a Ram—to send the answer to save me, fix me. To defend me when I’ve been wronged. To protect me when I feel insecure.
He’s not withholding. I’m the one not holding.
My fist has been clenched around the wrong beliefs, trying to control everything because He didn’t seem to be answering. Yet I was asking for what the Ram has already done for me. I repent of my arrogance and elevation of self, demanding that God owes me more. I must release my grip on the lies and doubts that He isn’t saving me and instead hold on to the promises He has already given me.
I’ve always been stuck in the “not yet” promises. That’s all great that someday I’ll be healed, or someday that situation will be redeemed—but why not right now? I’ve zeroed in on the “not yet,” forgetting that He has promised to heal every disease, wound, and broken heart. That means I already have my answer. I can have faith to believe that He will heal me—whether it’s today or tomorrow or when I see Him face to face. What matters is that I can trust Him to keep His Word.
Meanwhile, I declare back the Lord’s promises that are mine to receive right now. In His Name—the Lamb of God who already did it all for me—He is my Healer, Protector, Defender, Salvation, Rock, Fortress, Security, and Redeemer. There is no more asking for the Ram to be sent. There’s no more trying. No more controlling. No need to be enough or prove myself. I hold on to the Ram who has already done it for me—once and for all.
The ultimate destruction of the earth to this point in history brought about some of the most enthralling landscapes, displaying our Creator God, who is in control of all things and has purpose for all things. He took devastation in response to the evil of man and remade it to declare His goodness and glory.
The ultimate death of the Divine Ram in all of His-story brought about an eternal shift in the universe. He took devastation from the sin of man and defied it when He resurrected to life. Every damaged cell in our body and every shattered piece of our soul will undergo a rebirth to life.
I believe in God’s promises to take my lowly, finite, unfixed, disease-riddled self and remake it into glory. The layers and layers of my heart are being solidified to display Him—His life, salvation, redemption, and healing—in both the “not yet” and the “right now.”
Do you know what they call that location in Arches National Park? I search on my map to find written in small print: “The Garden of Eden.” It was as if the Spirit was whispering in the peaceful breeze:
“You think this is beautiful? Oh, just wait and see what I am doing to remake you—and all of My Creation—into a new Garden of Eden to display My Glory forever.”
“Right now, your first Love is restoring your soul to more than any earthly paradise; He is restoring you to the greater paradise of His heart. And there's not an eye or ear or mind anywhere that could even dare to imagine what fulfilling joy He is preparing for you who love Him and simply want Him for all eternity.” - Ann Voskamp, Loved to Life