When I was a kid, there was a tragic car accident just outside our small town. A mom and several kids were killed. I saw a photo of her husband on the front page of the newspaper a day or two later, taken as he arrived at the scene. He appeared wild with grief; police officers physically restraining him. I recall hearing a few days later that he’d been hospitalized under psychiatric care from the strain.
What happens when you pull away the props? Some of us have already experienced a loss of similar magnitude; most of us will evade heartbreak that comprehensive. But all of us, on some dark day of our lives, will be crushed by news we hoped would never come: a diagnosis of cancer; bankruptcy; the end of a relationship; the death of a spouse or a friend or a child.
What happens when you pull away the props?
I’m certainly not implying that our families, friends, health, or financial well-being are merely crutches we’re leaning on in our weakness. But the stark reality is that everything outside of our souls is up for grabs. We’re not promised perfectly clear skies. So in some ways, yes: everything – and everyone – we have is ultimately a prop; part of the suspension system of our lives.
Yet if we are in Christ, they’re not the substance of our life itself.
That’s because if our faith is in Jesus, our life is in him. The apostle Paul put it this way: I have learned the secret of living in every situation… For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength (Philippians 4:12,13 – NLT).
I spent much of the past week sick with a crazy stomach bug. At first I thought I was recovering; then suddenly, back in bed. When I get sick, I get frustrated – like a little kid worried all the other kids are having more fun than me on the playground while I’m stuck in the house.
My physical health is a prop, and I tend to lean on it too heavily. When the prop is pulled away, the flimsiness of my faith is exposed.
This doesn’t mean we should face suffering with stoic rigor, unmoved by life’s calamities. Mourning, weeping, and shuddering with pain are all legitimate reactions to the experience of loss. But there is a central distinction between a believer and an unbeliever here: we do “not grieve like people who have no hope” (I Thessalonians 4:13 – NLT).
What will you do when the props are pulled away? Maybe that’s where you find yourself right now. If so, reestablish the hub of your hope. It’s in Jesus alone. And if not – if life is relatively smooth at this moment – then don’t procrastinate “learning the secret of living in every situation” until a disastrous one envelops you.
Be thankful for your props. But build the kind of life in Christ that can, if loss cannot be avoided, stand firm without them.
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