I unloaded my groceries onto the counter and listened to
them. Two sweet little hippie girls, probably 18 years old, with nose rings and
choppy hair and wide eyes, full of excitement and words and seemingly oblivious
to the thirty-something-year-old mom standing in front of them. They discussed
politics and books and travel and all the world of possibilities, chatting
ninety miles per hour as they absent-mindedly rang up and bagged my groceries.
I didn’t mind. I was them yesterday, it seems.
Suddenly the cashier made eye contact and shook her head
sheepishly and said, “I’m sorry. We just got caught up in our conversation!” I
shoved my card into the reader. “No problem at all. I enjoyed listening to you.
I love to hear people who are passionate about life.”
A moment of silence, and then she leaned forward with glittering
eyes and said, “What about you? What are you passionate about?”
I can’t imagine a more golden opportunity. Isn’t this why I
live my life? For moments like this? To share the hope of the gospel and the
life that is found therein? But there, in Trader Joe’s in front of these two eager
girls…nothing. I froze.
“What am I passionate about?” I repeated. “What am I passionate about?” and I stumbled
around and ended up say something about my kids and homeschooling and
education. And those sweet girls nodded and helped me redeem it by expounding
on the wonders of sparking excitement about learning in my kids and the
opportunity to reclaim my own education in the process. And I smiled weakly and
wished them well and then left them behind to their spirited conversation while
I walked out the door and listened to the question still ringing in my ears. What about you? What are you passionate
about?
Every day since then, I have thought about those girls and
their questions and pondered. It’s not that I don’t know what I’m passionate
about. I do. It’s Jesus, and the gospel, and redemption and freedom and
forgiveness and life. It’s the pervasive nature of living for the glory of God,
as a disciple of Christ. It is hope for the individual and hope for the
nations. I think the problem for me in that moment was that I couldn’t distill all
these things into a few, well-thought words for these beautiful strangers. I
felt like I had failed, and I didn’t want it to happen again.
A few weeks ago you and I paced around our front yard
probably three hundred times. You were trying to convince me of the utter
futility of math, and I was trying to convince you of Romans 8:28. You were so
fervent in your arguments, so sure that there is nothing good or fruitful about
your having to complete your math assignment every.single.day. So frustrated by
that day’s assignment and the problems you were getting wrong. So sure that you
should throw in the towel. Such rage against the machine. And I was just as
dogged in my attempts to instill a more eternal perspective. Just as passionate
about convincing you, not just of the spiraling nature of math and the constant
building upon what you have already learned and the relevance and value of math
as a discipline, but mostly of the bigger picture – the hope that regardless of
the practical advantages of doing your math every day, there is a bigger story
being written. That God’s promises are true regardless of how we feel or what
we see in front of us. That even if you don’t think any good can come out of
doing your assignments, God has utterly promised to use even that hated math
for good in your life. To produce character. To grow faith. To make you more
like Christ.
It was a battle of the wills between two equally stubborn
souls, and neither of us emerged as the clear victor. But I did emerge with an
answer.
What about you? What
are you passionate about?
If ever faced with that question again, I know the answer,
thanks to a debate about math. What am I passionate about?
Truth. Truth that is outside of ourselves, and how we feel,
and what we think. Truth that is valid all the time and for everyone, no matter
what we believe about it. Truth that stands. That’s what I am passionate about.
For you, today, that truth is that God is using math as a
part of the “all things” to work together for your good. You can claim that
truth no matter how you feel, believe it no matter what your eyes tell you – or
you can ignore it, forget, refuse to be comforted by it. It doesn’t depend on
you. And I want you to know that the seasons and the circumstances and the
struggles may change, but the truth will not. It is outside of yourself.
So when the trials seem unbearable and the loneliness too
deep…
He is good.
When the grip of sin seems too strong and you fail once
again…when you are sure that you are too broken to be loved or used for His
glory…
He is enough.
When the path seems winding and your days run together…when
the tasks before you feel pointless and you are overwhelmed by the mundane…
He is wise.
When things seem to be spiraling out of control…when you
look to your right and your left and see chaos, and nothing is making sense or
coming together like you think it should…
He is sovereign.
When it looks like the enemy is winning…when people
disappoint you and even betray you…when the ones you love the most are being
hurt, and evil seems to be going unnoticed…
He is just.
Shepherd. Redeemer. Counselor. King. Avenger. He is for us,
not against us; redemption has been accomplished, the debt paid, the power of
sin canceled; He is working all things together for the good of those who love
Him, causing trials to lead to character to lead to hope; He is not unaware of
evil and is not mocked. A man will reap what he sows. Faithfulness will be
rewarded. The gospel will triumph, the saints will persevere. These things,
they are revealed by our very Creator in His word and they stand outside of us.
They are true no matter what we feel or think or see. They are true whether
people acknowledge them or not.
And next time I see those Trader Joe’s check-out girls, I
know what I will tell them: What is my passion? It is the truth that is outside
of myself.
