Stepping Out in Faith

Author's note: The following was written in 2003, and later published in a newsletter for chronically ill Christians called The Encourager. I'm adding it to the blog in case it is something that would be of encouragement to a wider audience. I'll be doing this with other writings I've submitted over the years as well.

In Genesis 12:1-25:18, the Bible tells us Abraham’s story, how God called him from his homeland to go to a new place that God had set aside for him and his descendants. Abraham had to leave behind everything and everyone he knew, taking only his possessions and his family. He had to step out in faith, trusting in God that where he was going would be better than what he left.
It occurs to me that we’re all on a similar journey when it comes to dealing with the changes that being chronically ill has created in our lives. Despite our illnesses, we are called to run with perseverance the race marked out for us (Heb 12:1), and that’s hard to do, literally or figuratively, when you’re ill.
I read once that many of us are like roller coasters, pushing to the top of the hill with everything we’ve got, and then crashing down to the bottom when we’ve pushed too far. On the other hand, I think many of us are like kiddie rides that just move around in small circles, going nowhere fast, for fear that we’ll only make ourselves sicker if we do more than the bare minimum needed to survive. Then more of us, I suspect, are like me, vacillating between the two extremes with an all or nothing mentality. Both extremes are damaging, whether we’re abusing our bodies beyond their capabilities, or allowing them to whither and atrophy. Neither lifestyle honors God or the temporary temples He’s loaned us (1 Cor. 6:19-20). But how does this compare to Abraham?
When God called Abraham to leave his home to go to a new place, he didn’t shout “Hot-diggity-dog Let’s make tracks ” and go running off into the desert with nothing but the clothing on his back. There weren’t restaurants on every corner, nor a “Wal-get” just around the next bend where he could pick up whatever he forgot to bring. It took planning to make sure they had what they needed all along the way. And when they needed to stop for a while, they did. They didn’t even take a direct route, but rather one that followed the rivers so they’d have water.
Neither did Abraham say “I don’t know about this… It doesn’t seem such a good idea,” all while worrying about the “what-if’s.” It could have been so easy for him to justify staying right where he was, choosing to keep what he already had, and forfeiting the promise of something better. After all, traveling back then was quite perilous, and certainly uncomfortable.
Abraham stepped out in faith, did what needed to be done to make the journey, rested when it was necessary, and eventually made it to the promised land and received God’s blessing. He traded all he had left behind for something far better. Perhaps we could find a way to do the same in the way we deal with our illnesses. Perhaps there’s a way we can find something workable between roller coasters and kiddie rides. How about a ferris wheel: slowly rising up to new challenges, enjoying the view from the top for a moment, and gently descending into a period of rest before we rise up again? Whatever we do, breaking out of our destructive habits will include stepping out of our comfort zones and trying something new, and trusting that if we do it for the right reasons, to honor God, that we’ll find ourselves trading up for something better.

Father, I thank you that You always give us something better when You ask us to give up something, no matter how much we may resist doing so. Give us the courage to willingly hand over everything we value and trust You to replace it with whatever You wish us to have instead, and give us the wisdom to know that Your way really is better. Give us the strength to follow the path you lay before us, and keep us hoping in the Promised Land at the end of the journey! In Christ's name, Amen!