The last couple weeks I have been witness to all manner of hardship around me. The sudden death of a son. Adopted children wrestling with trauma and fear. Inconclusive test results. Two attempted suicides. A mysterious illness in a child.
Moments like this rattle us to our core. They remind us that the world is fallen, and we are frail. They speak to our smallness, and our need for a solid place.
Pleas to God for comfort and peace and hope are intermingled with the aching questions of, “Lord Jesus, why?” and, “What now?” and “Where are You?” There is a desperate clinging to that which is good, mixed with a wonder and confusion of how we continue to navigate this world that is so hard and uncertain.
And when I ponder it myself, here’s what keeps resonating in my soul: Lean in.
So I lean in to His voice whispering to me through the questions and the confusion, “Come closer, sink deeper. Find a place of solace where your soul can exhale and rest. I’ve got this. I’ve got you.” I set aside what I do not know and grab hold of what I do.
Lean in, friends. Lean harder. Lean in to the One who sees it all. Lean in to the One who loves you. Lean in to the One who is more than able. Lean to the point where your feet don’t even touch the ground anymore and you’re just carried by Him.
He can handle it. He’s strong enough. He is our ezer kenegdo, our warrior helper, who fights for us and helps us.
Don’t just throw your worries at Him hoping something will stick. Don’t just hope for the best. Lean in to His promises like your life depends on it. Lean in with faith and hope and trust.
Don’t let your unanswered questions drive a wedge of bitterness or hopelessness between you and the very one who knows what you need and wants to walk with you in this. As Hudson Taylor said, “It does not matter how great the pressure is. What really matters is where the pressure lies-whether it comes between you and God, or whether it presses you nearer His heart.”
The promise of abundant life is not the promise of a painless life. It is not the promise of a happy life. It is the promise of a life where His resources for us are plentiful for what we will walk through. It is the promise of a place where we can always lean in and find what we need for the journey.
So lean in with your fists, if you must. Lean in with your wailing and doubts and anger, and beat your hands against His chest until it dissolves into grief and you let Him hold you.
Lean in with the faith of a child and rest. Lean in to His comfort and peace, to the place where you don’t have to have answers or direction-you just know that someone holds those for you.
Lean in to His embrace. Lean in to listen to His heart beat for you. Lean in to hear His voice speak over you the very words you long to hear. Lean in because that’s where you will find what you need.
You can never lean too hard. You can never push too much. You can never topple Him or ask more than He can offer. He is our solid oak, our life raft, our shelter, our rock in the storm. Lean in.