A few years ago I spent three weeks in another country as a
Bible teacher. It was the most demanding trip I’ve ever taken. I spoke over 20 times in 17 days, taught a two-week graduate course, preached on Sundays, delivered a commencement address, and
presided over a funeral. In the evening I tried to write a discipleship
course for church back home.
The family I stayed with were very busy, too, so
I didn’t see much of them. My emails to my wife didn’t go through (I found
out later), and I was not receiving any she wrote to me. I hovered on the
edge of illness most of the time. At night I had trouble getting to sleep and was beset
with nightmares when I did. I became exhausted, lonely, and
somewhat depressed.
I think my ministry was a blessing to people, but it became an ordeal
for me personally. In only three weeks my perspective became skewed, and I
honestly wondered if I was going to make it home.
In my private moments, when I struggled the most, I came up
with a phrase that I prayed to the Lord over and over. “I’m at Your disposal.”
I meant it this way: “Jesus, I owe You everything, and You
owe me nothing. I’m here, feeling pretty terrible, and that’s okay if it’s what
You prefer. Use me, or not. Use me up and take me home, if you want. I belong
to You.”
Well, obviously I made it through and got home. Toward the
end of my stay, my host (who must have known that I was struggling) placed an
international call to my wife and handed me the phone. Just hearing her voice
helped move my mood and perspective back toward normal.
I know this all sounds a little nuts—maybe a lot nuts. Three
weeks is such a short time to go off the rails as far as I did. But I guess it
was a perfect storm of stressors that buffeted my psyche to the point of spiritual distress.
But now, several years later, I think I got at least one
thing right: I am at Christ’s disposal. What I had wrong was the feeling
that He might use me up and toss me away. I thought of myself like the
disposable things in our society. Plastic cutlery, diapers, razors, syringes. Use and dispose.
There's no denying that Christ's people experience suffering. From the murder of Stephen in the first century down to the persecuted church today, the discipleship path is often a hard one. Jesus allows (or chooses) all manner of devastating circumstances for His own.
But He certainly doesn't "dispose" of us. It's just that His perspective is eternal, and mine is temporal. He controls everything, and I control nothing. His concern is my character, while mine is my comfort. Paul, who was well acquainted with hardship, had the right perspective: For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us (Romans 8:18).
He knew what we must all know--that Jesus has the very, very best planned for His chosen ones. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal (2 Corinthians 4:17-18).
But He certainly doesn't "dispose" of us. It's just that His perspective is eternal, and mine is temporal. He controls everything, and I control nothing. His concern is my character, while mine is my comfort. Paul, who was well acquainted with hardship, had the right perspective: For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us (Romans 8:18).
He knew what we must all know--that Jesus has the very, very best planned for His chosen ones. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal (2 Corinthians 4:17-18).
It turns out being at His disposal is the best place of all.
