He who promised is faithful.
—HEBREWS 10:23
I was comfortably seated in the exit row of the plane when a passenger coming down the aisle called my name. He was a tall, light-haired fellow who appeared to be about fifty years old and on a business trip. He introduced himself. Because of the chaos of boarding a flight, we couldn’t chat. But this much I gathered. He had heard me speak some years earlier, had appreciated my books, and would love to talk someday.
I returned the greeting and settled in for the trip. About an hour later I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned. It was the fellow who had greeted me in the aisle. He’d scribbled a message on a napkin and handed it to me.
Max,
Six summers ago Lynne and I buried our twenty-four-year-old daughter. This came about following a lake accident and two weeks on life support. We didn’t see this coming. How do you go on a summer vacation with four and come back home with three?
Friends, some of whom had buried precious children, rallied around our family. A country lawyer with his encouraging message that “God means you good, not harm” was one of those encouraging voices. Several of your books were given to Lynne and me . . .
We prayed for a miracle. I wanted her made new, her smile and brilliance restored. To unplug our daughter from life support was very, very hard. Although the decision was painful, we were confident that we were doing the right thing in laying her in the arms of a mighty God. He knew our pain.
His best work may not have been restoring Erin to this life but his assistance for Lynne and me to let him have her. He made our daughter better than new. He restored my Erin to his eternal presence. That is his best work!
This was not a lightweight hope. This was an assurance: “Let me have your Erin. I’ve got her now.”
God’s children reflecting the very nature of God became his presence around us. Our faith is getting us through this.
Faith is a choice.1
I read the napkin testimony several times. I wanted to know, How does this happen? How does a dad bury a daughter and believe, so deeply believe, that God meant him good not harm, that God had received his daughter in his loving arms, that God did his best work in the hearts of sorrow? The napkin could have easily borne a different message. One of anger and bitterness. One of disappointment and despair. One full of hurt, even hate, toward God. What made this message different?
Simple. This grieving dad believes God’s promises. “Faith is a choice,” he concluded.
It is.
Our God is a promise-keeping God. Others may make a promise and forget it. But if God makes a promise, he keeps it. “He who promised is faithful” (Heb. 10:23).
Does this matter? Does God’s integrity make a difference? Does his faithfulness come into play? When your daughter is on life support, it does. When you’re pacing the ER floor, it does.
When you are wondering what to do with every parent’s worst nightmare, you have to choose. Faith or fear, God’s purpose or random history, a God who knows and cares or a God who isn’t there? We all choose.
New-beginning people choose to trust God’s promises. They choose to believe that God is up to something good even though all we see looks bad. They echo the verse of the hymn:
His oath, His covenant, His blood, Support me in the whelming flood.2
Nothing deserves your attention more than God’s covenants. No words written on paper will ever sustain you like the promises of God. Do you know them?
To the bereaved: “Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning” (Ps. 30:5).
To the besieged: “The righteous person may have many troubles, but the LORD delivers him from them all” (Ps. 34:19).
To the sick: “The Lord sustains them on their sickbed and restores them from their bed of illness” (Ps. 41:3).
To the lonely: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you” (Isa. 43:2).
To the dying: “In my Father’s house are many rooms. . . . I go to prepare a place for you” (John 14:2 ESV).
To the sinner: “My grace is sufficient for you” (2 Cor. 12:9).
These promises are for your good. “And because of his glory and excellence, he has given us great and precious promises. These are the promises that enable you to share his divine nature and escape the world’s corruption caused by human desires” (2 Peter 1:4 NLT).
Press into God’s promises. When fears surface, respond with this thought: But God said . . . When doubts arise, But God said . . . When guilt overwhelms you, But God said . . .
Declare these words: “You have rescued me, O God who keeps his promises” (Ps. 31:5 TLB). Turn again and again to God’s spoken covenants. Search the Scriptures the way a miner digs for gold. Once you find a nugget, grasp it. Trust it. Take it to the bank. Do what I did with the promise of the pilot.
Not long after I met the note-giving gentleman on the plane, I took another flight. On this occasion a note did not come my way, but bad weather did. The flight into Houston was delayed by storms. We landed at the exact time the final flight into San Antonio was scheduled to depart. As we taxied toward the gate, I was checking my watch, thinking about hotels, preparing to call and tell Denalyn of my delay, grumbling at the bad break.
Then over the loud speaker a promise. “This is the pilot. I know many of you have connections. Relax. You’ll make them. We are holding your planes. We have a place for you.”
Well, I thought, he wouldn’t say that if he didn’t mean it. So I decided to trust his promise.
I didn’t call Denalyn.
I stopped thinking about hotels.
I quit checking my watch.
I relaxed. I waited my turn to get off the plane and set my sights on my gate. I marched through the concourse with confidence. Hadn’t the pilot given me a promise?
Other people in the airport weren’t so fortunate. They, also victims of inclement weather, were in a panic. Travelers were scrambling, white faced and worried. Their expressions betrayed their fear.
Too bad their pilot hadn’t spoken to them. Or perhaps he had and they hadn’t listened.
Your Pilot has spoken to you. Will you listen? No, I mean really listen? Let his promises settle over you like the warmth of a summer day. When everyone and everything around you says to panic, choose the path of peace. In this world of empty words and broken promises, do yourself a favor: take hold of the promises of God.
My friend Wes did. You’ll look a long time before you’ll find a better man than Wes Bishop. He had a quick smile, warm handshake, and serious weakness for ice cream. For more than thirty-five years he kept the same job, loved the same wife, served the same church, and lived in the same house. He was a pillar in the small Texas town of Sweetwater. He raised three great sons, one of whom married my daughter Jenna. Wes never even missed a day of work until a few months ago when he was diagnosed with brain cancer.
We asked God to remove it. For a time it appeared that he had. But then the symptoms returned with a vengeance. In a matter of a few weeks, Wes was immobilized, at home, in hospice care.
The sons took turns keeping vigil so their mom could rest. They placed a baby monitor next to Wes’s bed. Though he’d hardly spoken a word in days, they wanted to hear him if he called out.
One night he did. But he didn’t call for help; he called for Christ. About one o’clock in the morning, the youngest son heard the strong voice of his father on the monitor. “Jesus, I want to thank you for my life. You have been good to me. And I want you to know, when you are ready to take me, I am ready to go.” As it turned out, those were the final words Wes spoke. Within a couple of days Jesus took him home to heaven to start a new beginning that will last for eternity.
I want that kind of faith. Don’t you? The faith that turns to God in the darkest hour, praises God with the weakest body. The kind of faith that trusts in God’s promises. The kind of faith that presses an ink pen into an airline napkin and declares, “Faith is a choice. And I choose faith.”