So many evangelicals of my generation it seems grew up with the expectation that our lives would unfold a certain way. Grow up, go to a good school, get awesome jobs, fall in love, get married, have kids, live happily ever, etc….  Consciously or not, so many of us believed that if we memorized enough verses, read the Bible faithfully, worshipped passionately, and prayed in faith then life would turn out the way we wanted.  As time went by as dreams died, as we felt friends and mentors, and churches fail us, as we were faced with heart-wrenching disappointment and failure and the weight of the brokenness of the world seemed bear fully on our lives, so many of us decided that we could not believe in a God that didn’t give us what we thought we wanted or needed. When believing in God no longer felt right or life no longer made sense, so many of us decided to walk away. 

The bottom line was that we were more interested in a god who would give us the life we want than the God who is sovereign and has promised to provide for our needs. A god who gives us only the life we want is nothing more than the god of self. It is the ultimate irony of our generation that we long to be part of something larger than ourselves, we look for fulfillment in causes and self actualization, yet we turn our back on the God who calls us into His great cause, we look for meaning in our suffering, yet we turn on the God who promises that suffering will produce endurance and ultimately hope, not the vain hope of unfounded expectations, but a longing for a city that has foundations, a great and glorious city that will endure.

This hope reminds me of one of my favorite scenes from Lord of the Rings. Tolkien was no stranger to soul crushing despair and hopeless situations. Yet he wrote this.

“They sat and made such a meal as they could. Keeping back the precious lembas for the evil days ahead, they ate the half of what remained in Sam’s bag of Faramir’s provision: some dried fruit, and a small slip of cured meat; and they sipped some water. They had drunk again from the pools in the valley, but they were very thirsty again. There was a bitter tang in the air of Mordor that dried the mouth. When Sam thought of water even his hopeful spirit quailed. Beyond the Morgai there was the dreadful plain of Gorgoroth to cross. 

‘Now you go to sleep first, Mr. Frodo,’ he said. ‘It’s getting dark again. I reckon the day is nearly over.’ 

Frodo sighed and was asleep almost before the words were spoken. Sam struggled with his own weariness, and he took Frodo’s hand; and there he sat silent till deep night fell. Then at last, to keep himself awake, he crawled from the hiding-place and looked out. The land seemed full of creaking and cracking and sly noises, but there was no sound of voice or of foot. Far above the Ephel Dúath in the West the night-sky was still dim and pale There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach. His song in the Tower had been defiance rather than hope; for then he was thinking of himself. Now, for a moment, his own fate, and even his master’s, ceased to trouble him. He crawled back into the brambles and laid himself by Frodo’s side, and putting away all fear he cast himself into a deep untroubled sleep.” 

So do not despair friend, our God is coming soon. Hope in Him.