I was so upset… so hurt and grieved and discouraged and frustrated, so hopeless and helpless… I just wanted to vomit. For days I’d been feeling this way, walking around under a black cloud that wouldn’t lift. Couldn’t lift.
This was a couple of years ago.
I’d been fasting and praying for our nation and the world itself, hoping against hope that God would DO SOMETHING to open people’s eyes… to shine the light of His truth… to bring revival… to stay His hand and give us more time to get it right. Because I could see the road we were on, and it horrified me.
There were wars and rumors of wars. Acts of terrorism and violence. Racism, genocide, and ethnic cleansing. Religious persecution. Poverty, slavery, and sex trafficking. Political scandals and corruption. Moral and cultural issues threatening to tear society (ours and everyone else’s) apart.
But God didn’t answer my prayers the way I wanted Him to. In fact, some pretty major events had actually gone the exact opposite way. Most emphatically.
At the same time, I’d also been praying for my friends and family and myself… for a litany of health issues, relationship issues, work issues, financial issues, emotional and spiritual issues. And everywhere I looked, I just saw more problems, more pain. More heartache.
I found myself asking: Where was God in all of this? What was the point of hoping and praying and “hanging in there,” if nothing changed – or things only ever got worse?
I felt completely and utterly hopeless.
And I wasn’t the only one.
One day I got talking with my little brother – the one who likes to get all philosophical – and he admitted he’d been wrestling with some of the same frustrations, the same disappointments (like a lot of other people we knew). But then he made a really interesting observation. He reminded me of a scenario in one of our favorite book series, The Chronicles of Narnia.
In nearly every book, the Great Lion Aslan – who is a representation