Holding Onto God When Our Plans Fall Apart

At the age of 18, I had a solid five-year plan. I was going to graduate from a Christian college with a degree to teach deaf/hard-of-hearing students, and I was going to do it within an undergraduate program.

Never mind that there was only one college in all my searching that met my criteria, and never mind that it was in a state I’d never been to before. I showed up. I did the work.

And three years into my specialized degree, the deaf/hard-of-hearing program shut down due to lack of funding. I remember that phone call, and I remember the angry tears that came afterwards—jetting off to my next class and trying to focus even though my life had just fallen apart.

What did you expect?

So much of what we do in life is centered around our hopes and expectations:

  • We plant and weed so we can enjoy homegrown produce.
  • We put money aside so we can finally take that big trip.
  • We get the advanced degree so that we can earn more for our family.
  • We parent a certain way in the hopes that our children will do well.
  • We try to work out and eat right so we can live long and healthy lives.

Our agency is a gift. Although we recognize that not everything is under our control and that our power only goes so far, we have the ability to make choices and act upon our decisions.

I recently read a story about four friends who took matters into their own hands. They all had a friend in common who they loved dearly, but who was paralyzed. When word came that a healer had arrived in a nearby town, they carried their paralyzed friend to see him. In reading this passage in Mark 2, I was impressed at their determination in overcoming any obstacle in their way. Verse 4 says:

“And when they could not bring him to Jesus because of the crowd, they removed the roof above him; and after having dug through it, they let down the mat on which the paralytic lay.”

How long did this take? How hard was it to lift their friend to the roof? What did they dig with and how sweaty and dirty did these four friends become? During this time in history, roofs were flat, made of a mud and thatch mixture and supported by beams. I imagine it took a considerable effort for these friends to access Jesus, and I imagine it took much faith on the part of the paralytic to believe that this risk was going to be worth it.

But here’s the part that really struck me: after all of these obstacles are overcome, and they finally lay their friend at the feet of Jesus, Jesus says: “Son, your sins are forgiven.” (v. 5)

This is not why the paralytic’s friends went to all this trouble. I wonder what they thought? If their hearts sank in disappointment, or if they looked at each other in confusion. Surely, they expected Jesus to tell their friend to get up and walk.

When was the last time you faced unmet expectations? Have you ever wallowed in disappointment, holding the sharp and broken pieces of your life in confusion? Have you ever turned to God with your “But I thought….”?

In many ways, we aren’t so different from the Jews in Jesus’ day. We expect God to act in certain ways and to look a certain way. We forget Jesus shattered Jewish expectations of the Messiah, bringing something infinitely better than political freedom. We forget that he defies our expectations too, continually breaking down the boxes we have put him in.

Instead of physical healing, Jesus offered spiritual healing to the paralytic man. The next five verses are key to this story:

Now some teachers of the law were sitting there, thinking to themselves, “Why does this fellow talk like that? He’s blaspheming! Who can forgive sins but God alone?”

Immediately Jesus knew in his spirit that this was what they were thinking in their hearts, and he said to them, “Why are you thinking these things? Which is easier: to say to this paralyzed man, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Get up, take your mat and walk’? But I want you to know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins.” So he said to the man, “I tell you, get up, take your mat and go home.”

Mark 2:6-11 NRSV

This is not a story about the healing of a paralytic man, not really. Although the faith of the man and his friends is commendable and worthy of our imitation, the hero of this story is Jesus who, through this encounter, demonstrates that he has the power to forgive our sin. God is the Great Physician who has the power and authority to heal the diseases of our bodies and our souls.

What if your life story isn’t about you?

When we are wrestling with crushing disappointment, dashed hopes, and the disillusionment that comes with unmet expectations, we may find some small comfort in acknowledging that our story may not be all about us. We might remember that God is writing a bigger story—a story that encompasses not just your life or my life, but all of our lives as part of the greater kingdom of God.

And I think this is where our faith matters as we choose to believe that our life’s unexpected twists and turns, however hard they might feel, are playing a part in God’s Story, even if we never get a glimpse of the “why” behind it.

Can we choose to trust God even when our circumstances are baffling, even when it seems that God is silent or even hiding? Can we trust that God is somehow moving behind the scenes even if we don’t see it? Can we trust God to provide what we need, even if it looks vastly different than what we hoped for?

Holding onto God when our plans fall apart

Happy endings…or not

In the end, the paralytic man got the physical healing he was hoping for. In the end, after spending six months going down a different teacher certification path, my deaf/hard-of-hearing program reopened in time for me to graduate.

But in the end, not all stories are tied up neatly with a bow. Moses never entered the promised land. Hosea had to live with an unfaithful wife. Paul’s “thorn” was not removed.

Part of the challenge of our faith is to trust in God’s goodness even when our stories take unexpected turns. To release our grip on what we think that goodness should look like takes the kind of trust that develops over a lifetime. I’m learning to hold my own story with more of an open hand, to view the blind curves ahead with curiosity instead of a white-knuckled grip on the outcome I expect.

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*Feature Photo by Marcos Paulo Prado on Unsplash

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Sarah K. Butterfield is an author, speaker, and ministry leader who has a heart for empowering women to grow in their faith and be intentional with their time. She and her husband and two boys live in San Diego, where she writes about pursuing a deeper relationship with God in the midst of motherhood.

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