The Daunting Task of Faith in a Broken World

© whatchristianswanttoknow.com

Copyright © 2020

by Ralph F. Couey

There is an image, and the story behind it, from World War II that had a profound influence on me and remains with me even today.

On November 20, 1943, the U.S. 5th Fleet and the 2nd Marine Division opened the campaign in the Central Pacific with an assault on Tarawa Atoll. The invasion had been planned down to the last detail, except one. Nobody had made a detailed study of the tides. When the craft carrying the Marines approached Betio Island, it was suddenly realized that the tide had not risen sufficiently for the craft to pass over the reef. For the first 18 hours of the attack, the Marines were forced to leave the landing craft and wade through chest-deep water for 500 yards. In the blurry frames from a portable camera, the young Marines could be seen moving slowly through the water and being mowed down by automatic weapons fire from the island. But the survivors did not stop or turn around. They kept on moving forward. Enough of them were able to get to the beach to establish a presence, but it wasn’t until noon the next day that the tide rose, and subsequent waves of men and supplies were able to reach the shore.

Those Marines were the product of boot camp, which at that time was a study in human psychology. The recruits, through the viciousness of their drill instructors and the extreme pressure and stress of the training itself were at first broken down, all the habits and attitudes of their previous civilian lives excised and replaced by the ethic of the Corps. Some have questioned the brutality and necessity of such training, but one has only to watch that brief few frames of young men pushing forward even though others were dying around them to understand why. In order to be reborn warriors, they first had to be broken.

In Akron, Ohio in 1935, two alcoholics spoke to one another about the nature of alcoholism and a possible solution. Born out of that conversation was Alcoholics Anonymous, which has helped hundreds of thousands of people. As part of the process, a person has to admit to themselves that they are addicted to alcohol and are thus powerless in its presence.

For many, this life-altering moment comes at a point in their lives when they have literally lost everything – jobs, marriage, relationships with family and friends. Alcohol has taken over their life, and they have hit rock bottom. Even when they begin to work themselves back to sobriety, they must admit to themselves and to other members at meetings that alcoholism cannot be cured, and thus they are alcoholics for the rest of their lives, even if they never take another drink. Part of the power of the organization is that everyone there, especially those who volunteer as sponsors for newer members, has been there; knows how alcohol abuse destroys lives, and will always be their shadow. There are no non-addicts; everyone has suffered.

People turn to AA when they are completely broken and realize that they no longer have any control.

Control, or the appearance of, is held in high esteem by humans. This expectation is manifested through academics in our youth and in the careers we choose. We are taught by the world that it is up to us to firmly grasp the reins of our lives and steer ourselves to achievement, notoriety, and wealth. One of the harshest lessons of life is realizing how little control we actually have over what happens to us. There are those of us who have chosen to place trust and faith in God at least in words. But do our actions reflect those words?

In both examples I described, the people involved had to reach a point of absolute desolation and defeat. They had to recognize that they had lost complete control over what was happening to them, and it was necessary to make that tough admission that they had failed. But in that moment of despair, they found in something or someone the power that they lacked. It is so with disciples.

In Proverbs 3:5-6, we are told, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways, submit to Him and He will make your paths straight.” A disciple of Christ is not a whole person; they have been broken and been reborn through the process of placing complete trust and faith in the Redeemer. God and Jesus cannot enter in until we make this choice. Nobody has or will ever be dragged kicking and screaming before the throne. It is a choice the we, and we alone can make.

In Psalms 139:23-24, we read: “Search me, O God, and know my heart; try me, and know my thoughts; And see if there be any wicked way in me and lead me in the way everlasting.” God knows us best: He is able to peer into our hearts and minds and see that which we are unable or unwilling to. But we have to invite Him in. And the only way to do that is through a daily, robust prayer life.

People sometimes don’t understand the nature of prayer. They feel that a prayer must be loaded with $50 words, expressed in Shakespearean prose, spoken in stentorian oratory, and accompanied by a display of great authority. Not so. Prayer, put simply, is just a conversation between you and God. Speak respectfully, but plainly, colloquially, honestly. Speak from the heart, in the same way you would with your most trusted friend, which in reality, is who God is. It doesn’t have to be flawlessly edited or polished. You see, God knows our hearts and minds, so He knows what we are trying to say, and has complete understanding of the issue we face. That we hear ourselves so poorly articulate things makes no difference to Him. He understands completely. Our daily visits with Him reflect the love we feel, and our commitment to His infinite wisdom. And the more often we do this, the more readily we will see the answers and solutions we seek.

A few years ago, I undertook to teach a class on the Book of Matthew. I used a variety of sources and resources to plan, organize, and craft the individual lessons. But foremost in that preparation was the study of the book itself. Every week, as I prepared the lesson, I spent a lot of time studying those scriptures. (As one salty old preacher told me once, “We can READ a book; but we must STUDY the Bible.”) I did this so I would be prepared not only to teach, but to field the inevitable questions from the students. As the weeks passed though, something surprising happened.

The world we live in is complex, impossible to understand, and rife with conflict, anger, and hate. But during this period, I found that as I looked at the world, I was seeing things with a clarity and understanding I had never before experienced. I began to understand that there was something greater going on. One night as I lay drifting off to sleep, a door opened. For a brief, exhilarating (and scary) moment, I caught a glimpse of God’s plan. Not the details mind you, but just the reassuring knowledge that His hand was on the wheel of events, and that I was not to waste time worrying. It was a moment I’ll never forget.

Of course, being human, once the course was finished, I drifted away from my daily study, for which I feel more that a little shame. But please let my experience be a guide for you. If you cultivate in your life daily prayer and scripture study, windows of understanding will be opened to you as well. These are not the kind of tips that help your 401k, but will give you a sense of peace as you contemplate the apparent chaos of a world gone mad.

The world is more than a little crazy right now, and of course, we are concerned. But remember what it was like in Jesus' time. Groups within the Jewish community were fighting with each other, and above all was the suffocating presence of the Romans. Jesus started His ministry, giving hope to a world that had been bereft of hope. Then, He was arrested, tried, and crucified. His followers were devastated. Surely, this was the end. But as we see through the long lens of history, the crucifixion of Christ was not an end, but a beginning of something that has circled the world. The people in that time could not see or anticipate the global spread of Christianity. We, at this time, cannot see how this current unhappiness will end up. But know that, as we saw in the past, regardless of how bad the world looks to us, events are in the hands of the divine. And we need to have faith in a result we can't now understand, and may not be around to witness.

At some point, God will task us with a job to do, not large or famous or important, but more often than not, seemingly small and disconnected. But God seeks to save souls, and we are His tools in that task. When someone in need crosses our path, we will feel a quickening of the Spirit, and we must respond. The more intimate our relationship with God and Jesus is, the more aware of those moments we will be.

In this country, we are sinking deeper into a political war, one dominated by hate, anger, and violence. Some of us are compelled to take part, either as a protester or an activist. While I understand the passion and the need to be involved (Woodstock generation, here), I think we need to remember that Jesus joined no political party. He did not choose to join and dominate the Sanhedrin, although it was something He could easily have done. Jesus didn’t take part in any of the movements, like the Zealots. Instead, He had only one agenda, and that was the establishment of God’s Kingdom on earth. This placed him above the conflicts of the time, effectively rendering them irrelevant.

I wonder sometimes if we need to be in the world in the same way, not joining parties or movements, but being good disciples to the individual souls we meet. When the multitudes of people came to Jesus to be healed, our Savior was presented with a daunting task. He could have simply raised His hands over the crowd and pronounced, “You are all healed,” and they would have been. But He didn’t. Jesus took the time and the immense effort to touch and heal each and every individual who was there. This is the lesson we need to remember. Jesus’ ministry was never about numbers – large crowds. He ministered to individuals. He saved souls, one by one.

Now that seems difficult, if not impossible. We have been indoctrinated to think that if we aren’t helping millions at a time, we simply aren’t accomplishing anything. But we must put aside our human instincts and instead trust God to lead us; teach us; show us where He wants us to minister. We may think that we only helped one or two people last month. But remember that we are not alone. There are millions of us out here, and we must trust God that our individual mission will unfold as He directs.

The hardest thing for any human to do is let go of the wheel. The best disciple is one whose trust is in God and Jesus, and not in their own driving skills. But if we are willing to cede control to Our Heavenly Father and His Beloved Son, then we will find that we will be on the path He has designed for us. This is our test. We are broken people in a broken world. Do we have the faith? Can we let go? We must allow God to take the wheel.

And there, we will find peace.

A Crater, the Moon, and a Moment

Copyright © 2020

by Ralph F. Couey

Image and written content

I work inside a volcano.  An extinct one, to be sure, but still awe inspiring.  Diamond Head rises above the southeast coast of O'ahu, it's familiar shape a landmark as long as people have lived here.  Le'ahi, as it is known by the Hawai'ians, is one of several cones left over from an eruptive period that lasted about 200,000 years about a half-million years ago.  Beyond the obvious, it's a fascinating place.  The state park takes up a good portion of the crater and includes a rather daunting climb up to the summit off the tuff cone which provides a spectacular view.  During a normal (non-pandemic) day, hundreds of tourists arriving by car, bus, tram, and foot make the climb.  When the park is open, it's a busy, noisy place.

But around 6 p.m., the gates across the Kahala tunnel are closed and locked.  Awhile later, the park employees, National Guard, and day workers from the Emergency Management Agency leave for home, and things quiet down.  Those of us who are left are standing watch, monitoring a multitude of websites, radios, and other interesting pieces of technology, prepared to sound the alarm if the worst happens.  

The crater is a very quiet place as the sun goes down.  The thick, high walls keep the noise of the city outside.  They also screen out most of the skyglow, which means it gets dark.  Very dark.  Like, inside a black hole dark.  You can see stars overhead, better than outside.  As the light fades, the slightly rolling plain becomes faded and indistinct.  And then all you hear is the restless wind in the trees.  But what is most striking is the sense of peace.

Taking My Hands Off the Controls

“Sometimes you have to stop worrying, wondering and doubting. 

Have faith that things will work out, maybe not how you planned 

but just how its meant to be.” 

--Anonymous

Copyright © 2020

By Ralph F. Couey

My wife tells me I'm a worrier.  Guilty as charged.  It kinda runs in the family, as my Dad was always one to dwell on the welfare of his family, especially in his later years.  In a sense, Yoda would likely say the same thing about me that he said about Luke:  "All his life has he looked away…to the future, to the horizon. Never his mind on where he was; What he was doing.”  As I look back over the years, I can remember that the things that might happen got more of my attention then what was going on at any particular moment.  A big part of that was the sense that in whatever moment that was, I and my life, was in a hot mess. Naturally, it was more attractive to obsess about a future that had yet to be written.

That's been an albatross around my neck for as long as I can remember.  What I failed to understand then, and even recently, is how little control any of us have over the future.  

Most people when they think about the future, the focus is on matters of money, or things related to financial health like one's career.  Now, we can plan, we can read what all the experts think, do all the prudent things.  But as the last three months have shown, things happen, things that cannot be predicted, and certainly things completely beyond our ability to control or influence.  I once had a co-worker that, upon leaving Friday afternoon, said, "See you Monday, unless the big asteroid falls." Big rocks falling out of the sky tend to make a hash out of people's schedules.

A Song, A Moment, A Light

Copyright © 2020

by Ralph F. Couey

I've been in a kind of dark place, as regular readers of this blog may have noted.  The reasons for this are perhaps no different than the burdens many of you have borne in recent months.  Yes, the long isolation of this pandemic along with everything else that has been on the news has taken its toll.  But along with that is that for the first time, when I look to the future, I don't see a path.  Lately, that view has become like a tunnel, one without the reassuring light at the other end.

Our situation here is fluid, governed by considerations far beyond anyone's ability to influence or alter.  I've never liked living on an island, and while Hawai'i may seem to be paradise to others, to me it is feeling more and more like a prison.

I have always had that itchy foot, the desire to explore; to see what lay beyond the next hill. Or the far horizon.  In my past are a lot of journeys beyond the horizon, and while I still am not sure what exactly I was searching for, I nevertheless found the quest deeply satisfying.  But here, every journey ends at a rocky shore, beyond which stretches the endless blue ocean and a horizon that lies tantalizingly, frustratingly out of reach.

Today though, in the midst of this funk, I heard a song.

The Dark Side of the Looking Glass

Copyright © 2020

by Ralph F. Couey

There was a time when that thing we called "the future" was a bright and shiny thing, full of hope and optimism.  It was a place where all problems had been solved and there were no new ones to confound and confuse.  In the future, everything would only get better.  It was a wondrous place, this future.

When I was very young, my father subscribed to several magazines, two of which always fascinated me.  Popular Science and Popular Mechanics were publications where the marvels of that time were written about.  New inventions, examples of the most advanced technology in everyday use.  I remember one article about a house that was designed aerodynamically and could swing around a pivot, thus always facing the wind.  Intended for life where hurricanes were frequent, this was a dwelling that would survive even the most powerful gusts.  There were articles about experimental cars, designs that echoed the national obsession of the space race, things guaranteed to fire the imagination of a pre-teen boy.  

Several times a year, there would be a article, previewed on the cover, that described the future -- not the far distant future, but one far nearer, tantalizingly close.  One article predicted that by 1975, we would all be flying helicopters from our homes to wherever we needed to go.  Another one suggested that by 1980, people would be living on the moon.  One article talked about the homes in colonies that would be built on Mars, certainly by 1995.  I read where at some point in time, we would all be wearing computers on our wrists, machines of incredible power and almost magical properties that would allow us to access any information we needed.  And by the way, a device with which we could communicate with each other.  With video.  

Most predictions were quaintly fanciful, some startlingly prescient.  But for me, it was a moment when the veil was drawn aside and I was allowed to dream.