Remember this, keep it in mind, take it to heart, you rebels. Remember the former things, those of long ago; I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me. I make known the end from the beginning, from ancient times, what is still to come. I say: “My purpose will stand, and I will do all that I please.” Isa. 46:8-10
Holy and gracious Father, this Scripture, written to rebels among your ancient people, includes me as well. I not only rebel against your commandments, I also rebel against your gospel—at times believing it is too good to be true, or still wanting to some credit for my labors. That’s why I need a Savior as big as Jesus.
But I rest in the assurance that you will complete the good work of salvation you began in me. As you affirm through your son and servant Isaiah, your purpose will stand. You do all that you please, and it pleases you to justify and transform rebels like me. I praise you for your tenacious and transforming love.
It’s also encouraging to know knowing that your purposes for everything else will stand, as well. But, as comforting as this truth is, it’s also, at times, quite disruptive and humbling. Because some things that make all the sense in the world to me—some things that are so in keeping with what I know about you—some “good” things I really want you to do, just aren’t going to happen… because of a greater good you’re hiding from me—a different story you’re choosing to write. Give me grace for that, Father.
And yet there are other things I don’t have the faith for which to trust you—things which I cannot imagine coming to pass, things that are so far outside of my tidy theological box, that will happen before my very eyes. By your grace, forgive my unbelief.
Father, help me “fix it in mind and take it to heart,” that you are God and you do as you please. No one can ultimately resist your will, and we’re foolish when we try. You’re not a manageable deity; you’re not predictable; you’re not programmable. You’re mysterious—good, but mysterious.
As I head into a season of important choices and more healing, I’m so thankful that you are a sovereign Father, having equal care for each of your children. I can trust you. I don’t have to panic. I don’t have to worry. I don’t have to take matters into my own hands. I don’t have to fear outcomes, “what ifs,” or “if only’s.” Second-guessing must surrender to gospel sanity.
Father, help me to want your purposes to stand more than I want life not to be messy. Help me to glory in your pleasure more than I finagle for fewer hassles. Help me to accept disruption as a necessary part of transformation. Help me not to hide behind a doctrine of sovereignty, but to abandon myself to you, my Father who does all things well—even if you don’t do all things easy. So very Amen I pray, in Jesus’ trustworthy and praiseworthy name.