Lighthouse

There are times when I question myself. I question if I should be doing what I am doing with my life, I question whether I made the right decisions. I wonder if life would be different if I did this or that or didn’t do that or this. I’m fairly confident I’m not the only one who feels this way. Movies and novels like to tell the stories of the triumphs of everyday heroes walking into their dreams, but it’s easy to miss this simple fact: the life many thought they would live in pursuit of dreams and destiny looks nothing like the life they are facing. There are moments in time where we stand stunned in brutal disappointment as we realize our reality and our dreams are complete strangers.

There is a woman discussed in 2 Kings 4 who many scholars feel was the widow of a great prophet: a man of God, a man of power, a man of vision. Obadiah had served His God with great fervor. He was an administrator in the palace of wicked King Ahab, husband of evil Queen Jezebel. While this notorious couple aimed to destroy prophets, Obadiah was no sheep. He covertly hid over 100 prophets in caves during Ahab and Jezebel’s reign of terror to protect men of God from the fire and the sword. Obadiah used his own wealth as a sacrifice to support these now cave dwelling prophets until he had nothing and had to borrow money with interest from King Ahab’s son.

And then he died. And like many of us, he had horrendous levels of debt. And this is where the “It’s not fair” siren starts ringing red in my head. Obadiah used all he had and all he borrowed to protect powerless people from a certain, agonizing death. And there is his wife: left alone to beg and borrow, desperately hoping that her sons would not subjected to a life of slavery to pay back their father’s life’s work. And all she had left was oil...a small prophet’s flask of oil. She had nothing else left. There were no containers, there was no furniture, no jewels, nothing of value at all. If I were her, I would wonder where God was. She stood by her husband and saw his laid down life for God’s work and as her reward was about to lose all she had left. The “don’t you see how we served you Lord and where is the reward of serving you and living a life for you?” questions would reverberate through this carnal mind. You can take many things from a woman but threaten to take her children and watch her be earthquake shaken. Elisha had nothing for her. This oil...the oil of anointing, of healing, of resource was almost drained and dry like the dust bowl itself. To find the strength to gather vessels at the prophet’s request and to fill them with oil was as Brennan Manning says, “ruthless trust”  in the face of an “I don’t recognize or want this life moment.”

Instead of falling into the black hole of hopelessness, the widow gave it one more shot. She asked all her neighbors for any of their extra vessels. The prophet had instructed her to gather “not a few.” Do not read this without realizing that the widow’s neighbors most likely knew the state of poverty in which she was living. Sometimes when I read this I wonder if they were muttering about the crazy widow who had nothing to fill the vessels asking for vessels. To walk in obedience, she had to wear her desperation on full display like an evening gown.

She stood there in her house surrounded by this “not a few” level of emptiness waiting for the next move. The prophet told her to start pouring oil from that one remaining flask and to fill the barren jars. And this was the test. Would she believe that God is not bound by the debt of man? In the midnight hour, would God prove Himself extravagant? The oil did not stop. It did not show any indication of slowing down until every vessel was pregnant with priceless oil. It was not just enough. It was MORE than enough. Oil flowed and they no longer had any lack. In a single moment of terrifying obedience, their lives were transformed by the God who makes all things new.

John Piper said, “Occasionally, weep deeply over the life you hoped would be. Grieve the losses. Then wash your face. Trust God. And embrace the life you have.”  Let mourning pour down your face if you must, but embrace your promise wholeheartedly because although life does not often look as we expected, seemingly devastating detours do not surprise God. The path twists and turns and sometimes the boat feels like it’s going to capsize, but the promise is a lighthouse. When we choose to look at the Light when it  feels like we are drowning, we remember there is a place of fulfillment past the wind and the waves. Shake the pain off and let it dissipate in the winds of trust. Press into the sounds of heaven so the pain does not speak louder than the promise. Get into the face, the very presence of God. Do not gather just little faith so that you may know the fullness of the covenant keeping God who has more than enough for every empty space.