Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

They’d been wondering about it for forty years. Wondering while wandering. It seemed supremely unfair. The decision made 40 years ago wasn’t their fault. They hadn’t chosen not to invade Canaan. Their fear hadn’t overcome their faith. No one had asked their opinion. They weren’t offered a vote. The choice had been left to the adults then. The consequences had been left to them now. Forty years of their lives that could have been spent in the lush lands of promise had instead been wasted wandering the wilderness. The old had died. The young had aged. They’d married, had children, raised families. They were still wandering. And wondering. Why? Why were they paying for sins they had no part in committing? Why were they being punished? What possible reason could there be for this aimless, homeless, unsettled season of their lives? (Deuteronomy 8:2-6; Numbers 13:17-14:35)

Moses had the answer. He’d lived through the deliverance from Egypt, the original wilderness travel, the backsliding, the punishments, the complaints, the fear that made their ancestors shrink back from entering the Promised Land. It had been a lot to endure. He’d been tested and tried. Even failed himself. He wouldn’t live in the Promised Land, either. But God’s grace had kept him around long enough to impart God’s words of wisdom to the descendants of the previous defectors. Words that must surely have soothed the frustration built over the last 40 years. There was a reason for their wandering and it wasn’t about their dead ancestors. 

It was about them. It was about their hearts. Their humility. Their ability to rely on God. Their devotion to His commands. Their resolution to walk in His ways. It was a test. Not to set them up for failure but to increase their odds of success. It was meant to strengthen them. To solidify their resolve to stay the course outlined by God. To ensure their hearts were sold out to follow Him. Because, even in the Promised Land, things would not always be easy. Hardship would come. Temptation would constantly be hovering at the doors. The urge to lean on their own understanding would batter their hearts. This season was to try them, to prove them, to test their allegiance to God and their dependence on Him so that when their souls approached a crossroads, they would keep His commands, follow His ways, and reap the benefits. They would truly be God’s people. He would be their God. It was the reason for their season. (Deuteronomy 8:2-20) 

Carefully surrounding his meticulously wrapped body with herbs and fragrances, the sisters backed out of the cave. Their heads were bowed. Their arms linked. One motioned for the stone to be rolled over the gaping entrance. Everything that could be done had been. It was over. No more cool clothes to soothe his fever. No more broth to nourish his body. No more healing remedies. No more hope. Their brother felt no more pain. Now the pain was theirs alone.  

Huddled together there before his resting place, their shoulders shook with barely restrained sobs. Streams of tears flowed from their eyes. For days sleep had eluded them. In the aftermath of his final breath, words failed them. Over and over again their hearts broke. Shattered. Coherent thought was made nearly impossible by the grief racking their brains. Yet the deepest parts of their souls were swarming with questions. Not about life. Not about death. Not about life after death, the resurrection, or who would rise. They knew all those answers. They knew Jesus. They believed He was the resurrection and the life. They weren’t uncertain about any of that. No. The accusatory question plaguing their minds was different. It was personal. If Jesus had been there, if He had come when they’d sent the message Lazarus was ill, their brother wouldn’t be dead. So why hadn’t He come then? 

It wasn’t like they hadn’t contacted Him. It wasn’t as if He couldn’t have simply spoken words from a distance. It wasn’t so far that He couldn’t have arrived before the final air quietly left Lazarus’ lungs. He didn’t come. Not the day they sent the message. Not the next day. Or even the next. Jesus didn’t show up until Lazarus had been dead for four days. And the girls couldn’t understand it. His lateness boggled their minds. Everything they believed they knew about Jesus was called into question. They believed they were friends with Jesus. They thought they were His people. Their home was a frequent stop on His travels. They knew they loved Him. They thought He loved them back. But if He did, why had He stayed away when He knew Lazarus lay dying? When He knew he could heal him. When he knew death wasn’t the only answer. When He knew they were desperate for His help, waiting for His arrival. Why hadn’t He come when they asked? What possible reason could He have for allowing this wretched season of agonizing grief? (Luke 10:38-41; John 12:1-3) 

Hardly would Jesus’ sandals hit the dirt of their town before they sought His answer. First Martha. Then Mary. Jesus was late. Lazarus was dead. If Jesus had been there, their brother  would be too. Their hearts wouldn’t ache. Their eyes wouldn’t leak. Their mourning would be dancing. So what had kept Him away? There’s something beautiful in Jesus’ answer. Not the words He spoke, but the reason He gave. He wanted to show them the glory of God. He wanted their faith in Him to become sight. He wanted to do something miraculous for them. And not just for them. Others needed to see it too. The disciples. The group of mourners. The curious onlookers. Many people present that day needed sight to find their faith. Jesus wanted to give them that sight. Commanding the stone be rolled away, He called Lazarus to come out. And He did. Strips of burial cloth streaming from his hands and feet, Lazarus’ came forward. And many people believed in Jesus. See, Lazarus’ death had nothing to do with Mary or Martha. It wasn’t about what they had or hadn’t done, who they were or where they’d been. It was not a barometer of their worth to Jesus. No. It was a moment for God to display His power and draw people to Himself. The reason for their season wasn’t about them at all. It was about reaching the lost. (John 11:1-44)

Just like the man born blind. Ecstatic to give birth to a son, it took only a short while for his parents to realize something wasn’t quite right with their newborn. A series of doctor visits later, their hearts were wrecked by the news he was blind. Always had been. Always would be. Their minds swirled with questions. What had they done wrong? Had they accidentally violated the law? Was one of them hiding sin? Did God hate them? Did He not care for their little boy? 

They weren’t the only ones with questions. Upon seeing the man, the disciples asked Jesus a similar question. Who was the sinner that caused this man’s illness? Who was to blame? What was the reason for this situation? In carefully worded rebuke, Jesus corrected their thought process. No one was to blame. No one sinned. The man’s unfortunate condition was not the result of some heinous deed, some ridiculous action, some horrendous inaction. The reason for his blindness had nothing to do with sin at all. It had to do with light. The Light of the World. The works of God could be revealed in Him. And they were. 

Spitting in the dirt and swirling it to make mud, Jesus smeared it on the blind man’s eyes and told him to go wash his face. He did. As the water dripped off his chin, he opened his eyes and blinked. He could see. Trees and sky. Birds and flowers. People and places. He could travel on his own. Go where he liked. Get a job. Care for himself. Get married. Have children. The world was his oyster. But first, he was dragged before the Pharisees. They wanted to hear all about it. And he told them. More than once. They didn’t believe him. Kicked him out of the temple. But not before they heard what Jesus had done. Not before they saw the glory of God on display before them. It was the reason for his season. (John 9:1-34)

These are not the only accounts we could list. From cover to cover, account after account, we can read the stories of people who traversed unpleasant, uncomfortable, undesirable seasons through which God amazingly worked. Joseph was sold into slavery, falsely accused, wrongly imprisoned, had no idea why any of it happened until years later when he was doling out grain in a drought-ravaged land and saving lives in the process. Only then did he know. God had brought him there, put him in just the right place at just the right time to provide a rescue for his family, his people, many people in need. (Genesis 37:1-50:20) 

Ripped from her family and friends, forced into diets and beauty treatments, sent to please a king she wasn’t interested in pleasing, Esther most certainly wondered at the reason for this particular season in her life. After the stunt he’d pulled with Vashti, she wasn’t inclined to marry that particular king. She wasn’t interested in being queen. Yet she found herself wed to him anyway. Perhaps her idea was to take one day at a time, hope the king never called for her, pray she could somehow fade from his mind. But God had a reason for her presence in that palace. He had a plan to rescue His people from destruction. And Esther was in that particular palace at that specific season for the incredible reason of saving God’s people alive. (Esther 1-9)

Physically battered and emotionally broken by a tragic series of enormous loss and intense illness, Job unmistakably wondered what possible reason there could be for this season of his life. Although we are not offered direct answers as to why God allowed Job to be tested and tried so heavily, we know that Job learned things about himself and about His God. In the final chapter of Job, he speaks to God, acknowledging His greatness, His sovereignty. He speaks of seeing God. What He previously thought He knew about God paled in comparison to what He now knew. His relationship, his dedication to the Almighty exited that season of hardship in a stronger, more determined place. Job came out of his hardships knowing God better than He ever had before.  (Job 42:1-6)

So will you. Whatever you are facing, working through, or enduring right now, there is a reason for it. God’s reason. It might be about you. Increasing your faith. Honing your understanding of who He is. Drawing you into a deeper, closer, more exclusive relationship with Almighty God that remains secure through the fire of any test. But maybe it’s not about you at all. Maybe it’s about others. Maybe it’s about highlighting God’s sufficiency in the midst of human deficiency. Maybe it’s about illustrating God’s glorious ability in the light of impossibility. Maybe it’s about lifting Him up so He can draw mockers and scorners to Himself. Maybe it’s about saving souls, restoring hope, reigniting faith. Your faith. Someone else’s hope. Whatever the case, there’s a reason for your season. Even if you can’t see it right now. Even if you never figure it out. Know in your heart, believe in your soul that He works all things together for good to those who love Him. So don’t stop loving God. Don’t stop following Him. He will get you through this. Trust His heart of love for you. And know He has a reason for your season, no matter what it is. (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8; Philippians 4:13; II Corinthians 12:9; I Peter 1:7; James 1:3-4; Job 23:10; Zechariah 13:9; Matthew 19:26; John 12:32; Jeremiah 31:3; Romans 8:28; Psalm 30:11; Psalm 27:14)