The Blessings of Faithfulness

Daniel of the Old Testament – you know, the “Lion’s Den” one – he is the man. Though he is from the tribe of Judah, a misfit group of exiles in a secular, flourishing kingdom, his hard work and devotion to the one true God testify to the power and reality of a living Lord. Through the reign of three kings and three different empires – Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon, Darius of Persia, and Cyrus of Achaemenid – Daniel is continually promoted, and it’s not because he is a people pleaser. In his profession, he seeks to do his best, but he refuses to compromise his beliefs or his identity as an Israelite.

Beginning as a young court hopeful and continuing in greater degrees throughout his life, Daniel obeys the Lord’s commands, and he is blessed for it. Before he was appointed to the court, Daniel and his companions asked permission to not defile themselves with the king’s food, consuming a diet of vegetables. How appetizing. But, ten days later, they were stronger than all the rest of the trainees. In the next few years, God gives them knowledge in literature and wisdom, so that at the end of the training, they were ten times better than all the rest. They set their faithfulness in the Lord from the beginning, so he entrusts them with more. This sets them up for bigger opportunities and challenges to testify and remain faithful to the Lord.

When Nebuchadnezzar later has confusing dreams and sees handwriting on the wall, Daniel is the only one in the kingdom who is able to interpret it. He doesn’t provide any “all glory to you, may the king live forever” response either. In sum, Daniel reports that Nebuchadnezzar's  kingdom will crumble and divide. Because of his honesty and wisdom, he is promoted, and through Daniel and his companions who survive the burning furnace, Nebuchadnezzar catches a glimpse of the true God.

Fast-forward to Darius’ reign. Daniel, who has an “excellent spirit in him” (Holy Spirit), is up to become the highest official, and jealous officers trick the king into issuing a decree that those who don’t worship him should be thrown in the lion’s den. Being the only one worshipped sounds pretty good to Darius, so he approves it. Now, put yourself in Daniel’s position. In the past the tests were smaller – vegetables versus a feast, honesty over sucking up. Now Daniel’s life is on the line. But smaller acts of faith prepare us for bigger ones. Rather than shoving God to the backburner or toning his devotion down, Daniel continues steadfastly, praying and giving thanks to God three times a day. When Darius realizes that he has inadvertently sentenced Daniel – Number Two in the kingdom, his right hand man – to death, he is, of course, deeply distressed. He plots to rescue Daniel, but the law binds him, so as he throws Daniel into the lion’s den, he entreats, “May your God, whom you serve continually, deliver you!” You know the story. That night the king fervently prays and fasts, and Daniel is not harmed because of his trust in God.

Daniel’s deep faithfulness does not directly equate to blessings. Genuine devotion and real testing bring forth an uncontrollable mess. It is only in such chaos, though, when the impossible is made possible, that one sees the Lord work most clearly. The core that withstands tribulation testifies to Truth, powerful and living. The morning after Daniel is thrown in the lion’s den, Darius anxiously calls out “O Daniel, servant of the living God, has your God, whom you serve continually, been able to deliver you from the lions?” Darius still does not claim this God for himself, but he knows this God is living and active, capable of rescuing Daniel from the terrifying maw of ravenous lions.

Daniel’s story reminds me of Jesus’ parable of the ten minas. To the one who is given much, even more will be given. God entrusts us with something and sees how we manage it. If we do well, He gives us more. With Daniel, like most true disciples in the Bible, I see that faithfulness is often not the ideal choice. When the opportunity comes to glorify the Lord, it usually ushers forth testing and hardship with it. Why eat vegetables when there is a feast? What harm is there in hiding one’s faith a bit?

But who is first? Your life or Christ in you? The easy choice is always self. The right choice is always God. When we choose Him and thank Him through everything, we glorify Him, and we are a testament to others of His goodness through trial. Though there may be hardship, the fruit of faithfulness is far better blessing than what we can ever provide for ourselves.

Lord, the one true, living God, you are faithful and steadfast. I confess that I often turn from you and seek my own desires. Thank you that your promises are true and that you have given me your Word to lead and guide me. Thank you for giving up everything to make me new. Remind me that all I have is yours anyway, and that your mercies and blessings are new every morning. Renew a right spirit within me, and shape my heart to be centered on you, led by the Holy Spirit and abounding in faithfulness and obedience.

Cross References:

Lamentations 3:25

The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him,
    to the one who seeks him

Colossians 3:23

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters,

To the one who is given much, even more will be given. It doesn’t mean that it won’t be hard.

Blessings first to the father – seek first the kingdom, and all these things will be added to you.

Luke 19: 16-17
The first one came and said, ‘Sir, your mina has earned ten more.’
“‘Well done, my good servant!’ his master replied. ‘Because you have been trustworthy in a very small matter, take charge of ten cities.’

Lenten Season

Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. After fasting forty days and forty nights, he was hungry.

Matthew 4:1-2

Often times, Lent becomes a shortened, more attainable version of New Year’s Resolution Round 2. I am certainly guilty of this. Even if my small sacrifice is a genuine offering to God, it is rather convenient to be “giving up sweets” just before the weather warms up and the bathing suits come out.

For forty days, we deny ourselves just as Christ did. We are tempted, just as He was, and in our fasting, we call upon Him for strength and sustenance. We prepare our hearts for the greatest miracle of all time – the God of the universe rising from the dead. The point is not to have an excuse to shed three pounds. We give something up that we are attached to, that we value. In its absence our focus not only turns back to the Lord, but is also sharpened and clarified.

Living in a state in which my community has been shifting just about every three months, I have become far too connected to social media. Facebook and Instagram allow me to stay in touch with people I can’t see in person – kind of (Phone calls are much more authentic and effective). They’re also my go-to distractions when I’m bored or procrastinating. I’ve even resorted to watching TV, something I’ve rarely done in the past. These are not bad things, but, minor as they may seem, they have become idols in my life. Most of the time I don’t even realize it, but I use them to fill a piece inside of me that I should be allowing God to fill.

Tonight I spontaneously joined some interns for an incredible few hours of worship at National Community Church. I’ve been planning on giving up Facebook for Lent, but this time of prayer allowed me to really consider the value and meaning of Lent. “You deserve all my worship. You deserve all my praise,” one song went, and I really sensed a call to deeper sacrifice and discipline. Along with Facebook, I will be fasting from all forms of media entertainment this year. I’m also going to be spending an hour in scripture every day – 30 minutes when I first wake up using the 40 Days of Lent study, and another half hour during stillness at work meditating and memorizing the Sermon on the Mount. We’re still talking first-world sacrifices here, but I will certainly need the Lord to help me through this Lenten season. Jesus was hungry in the wilderness, and then He was tempted. I will have urges both to log on to Facebook and to skip out on a devotional. I hope these days leading to Easter will be ones of deep spiritual growth, and for that to happen, the idols still standing between my Redeemer and me must be cleared away.

Surprises in Noisy Silence

Paddle boarding through a mangrove swamp. Check.

Yoga with running water trickling in the background. Check.

Thirteen ziplines over a luscious, impenetrable rain forest. Check.

Horseback riding on muddy jungle trails and white sand beaches. Check.

But 60 kilometers of ATVing in the high mountains? Yes, during our Costa Rica vacation several weeks ago, we did that too. It was there, doing something new and unplanned, that I encountered God again.

Our tutorial - none of us knew what to do!

This whole four wheeling gig is highly out of character for the Comptons, because my parents have long considered the vehicles a source of unnecessary danger. But, the folks who provided the horseback riding also offer ATV tours, and after a week and half of exploration, we had pretty much ventured on every excursion we had hoped to do. There were still three days to kill before our departure, though, so Hoffa signed us up for the following day. I was hesitant. It seemed like a waste of money and time. I just saw four wheelers as loud, dangerous gas guzzlers. What’s the point of riding on one all day? I thought hanging out at the house or beach reading The Two Towers would probably be a better use of my diminishing days of vacation.

I don't know about this...

But, as I often am, I was wrong. ATVing provided many surprises. Now that we’ve been back a few weeks, we have already begun reminiscing on this summer’s family vacation, and almost all of us – I included – agree that the quad tour was especially memorable.

How the Comptons feel about four wheelers now

If you recall from previous posts, we initially struggled to navigate the twisting, unpaved roads surrounding Nosara. Because we didn’t rent a car, we had been walking everywhere for the past week, and even the Compton girls were gaining some sense of direction. My first surprise began as, bend after bend, we quickly departed from the unpaved Costa Rican roads we had come to know. Blindly following our jovial German guide, we entered remote villages, and I began to see glimpses of a more authentic Costa Rica – the tourists’ Pura Vida mask, the false presentation of luxurious paradise, was stripped to its origin. Everyone still smiles, the mangos are still sweet, and the jungle still pristine. But here, despite our swift pace, I noticed the difference. Impoverished farmers struggle to provide for their large families. Sons escape reality on the soccer field. Mothers seek solace in the church. Skinny pets scavenge to survive. Life is hard.

Without an ATV, I would’ve missed this. True, these two weeks were a vacation, but I’m grateful that I have not returned as another tourist oblivious to the economics which prevail most of the country. I had seen this kind of life – and far worse circumstances – in Cambodia, but the more poverty you witness in different places across the globe, the more you realize your own blessings.

While our indirect encounter with poverty was good, it was my second unanticipated surprise that makes this excursion so memorable and precious. High in the Costa Rican mountains, I had an authentic meeting with the Lord. Ever since traveling to Cambodia, I have struggled in my faith as I never have before. (For more on that, check the archived blog titled Jesus? Oh, Jesus). I walked with a childlike faith well into college. Even when I faced challenges at Roanoke, I held on to the relationship and experiences he and I shared together from my youth. I knew his names, and I continued to call on him, even when I didn’t necessarily feel his presence. Jesus - the Beautiful Savior. The Holy One, Beginning and End, untamed lion and sacrificial lamb. He is a heart healer, miracle worker, and grace giver.

Though he calls us to have a childlike faith, God has brought me back to the basics this summer and taught me that that is just what our faith should be – childlike. Not the belief in God that children hold when they are six and have grown up in the church. Most kids believe because they are taught, and they accept the authority of their teachers. They flourish off of the spiritual milk they are given, and while they are still children, it suffices.

Adults, however, must grow up and face the world’s challenges. We’ve got adult minds; we’re skeptical realists. We face the hardships of life and sometimes we say, “Where are you God?” What’s worse, a lot of times there is silence. Sometimes even more hardships are piled on top of the perceived silence. So we conclude that our Sunday school teachers were wrong. God must not be here after all. When we face those obstacles, we can’t function off of milk. We need wholesome spiritual food, consisting of worship, prayer, fellowship, scriptural meditation, and repentance. Only then can we defend the Gospel, as we’re called to do*. As we depend wholly on a gracious father, we return to our childlike faith. Our God’s promises do not fail; he gives good gifts and desires to speak and work through his children. We are his beloved.

Intermittently this past year, I have swung on a self-serving, schedule-filled pendulum which has made it hard to wholly accept those truths. Perhaps in my head. Yes, I chose to believe. I deliberately chose, despite not really “feeling” God’s presence, to hold on to things which had proven to be true in the past. Unexpectedly, Dark Nights of the Soul still came charging, and when they did I felt lost, alone, and confused. I now knew and understood the doubts others had described to me before. Though I appreciated the perspective, I felt like I was supposed to be the solid Christian who is attuned to the Spirit and showing people the Lord’s love. My own doubt both frightened and frustrated me.

Just as those dark moments crawled into my heart, unforeseen and uncalled, it was atop a strange ATV in the bumpy mountains of Costa Rica that I suddenly began to experience God’s good love as I once had.

Most people like four wheelers for their utility – being able to drive cross country where no other vehicle can go. My favorite part is the noisy silence it offers, inviting conscious contemplation. It was amidst this white noise of revving engines that I began to worship the Lord. A quad is too loud for conversation, so even though I was technically with my family as I had been for the past two weeks, I did a lot of solitary looking, thinking, and listening. As we climbed into the mountains, the landscape transformed into grand canopied mountains. The forest boasted countless plant species and shades of green.

Our conversation was simple. Finally being able to hear his voice again, and know that it was him was delight enough.

God, look at this! Unreal! I love your Creation. I love that I can be in it and enjoy it. Thank you for this treat.

I love you, Jessica. This is a gift from Me, and I am here with you. I will not leave you.

Each curving bend brought a new view, which kindled another prayer of thanksgiving. Prayers on prayers became worship, an intermingling of song and conversation. I noticed how many of the songs I sang in my head were about repentance and return.

So I come, straight into your arms

I’m coming back to the heart of worship

Lord, I come to you

We will run to you, turning from our sin we return to you

Even now, here’s my heart God

Yes I shall arise and return to my Father

Ever since the Fall in the garden, humans have naturally sought their own desires. One way or another we have become lost and destitute, and we yearn for redemption. So we have Jesus now, one who never did turn away. He is a shepherd who cares for his flock, and he seeks our hearts. After we have done it our own way and it doesn’t work, we turn back.

On that ATV, my heart, over my mind or will or desire, began turning back to God’s own. I felt his radiant presence, his delight when I called him my only, my worthy One, and the Holy Spirit filled me with a divine joy. You might be thinking, Jessica, you’re a pretty joyful person all the time. This was not the same. It was unearthly, contagious joy resulting directly from returning fully into the Lord’s realm. It came from a denial of the self, of giving him complete praise and telling him that I am his, and everything I do is for his glory. When that offer is earnest, he loves it. 

So I want you to know this: if you’ve been having faith struggles of your own, I get you. I am not some holier-than-thou church-going gal that you can’t relate to. Doubt sucks. I am following God’s command in Joel 2:12 – “Even now,” declares the LORD, “return to me with all your heart, with fasting and weeping and mourning.” I am choosing to return to God’s love, and I am trusting that it is real and enough.

When I straddled the ATV that morning, all I felt was reserved anxiety. I never expected to encounter poverty or the geography of the mountains, much less the most holy encounter with the Lord that I’ve had in a long time. That’s our God for you, though. Many times he is most present in the unexpected. He is always there when we return to him, and he truly delights when we worship him. Hallelujah, praise to a good God.

* But in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness andⁱrespect  -1 Peter 3:15

Jesus? Oh, Jesus

I thought about the former days,
    the years of long ago;
I remembered my songs in the night.
    My heart meditated and my spirit asked:

“Will the Lord reject forever?
    Will he never show his favor again?

Psalm 77:5-7

During our stay in Sihanoukville, Courtney and I went out to dinner, where an older Englishman sat at the table next to us enjoying a beer by himself. Had he been some wildly attractive young man, the guy most twenty year olds would try to talk to, he probably would’ve intimidated me, and I would have left him alone. Alan, however, was in his sixties, so, being me, I engaged him in conversation, and we ended up spending dinner together.

“Traveling will change you,” he said.

I wrote about a lot of my experiences in Cambodia, but I must confess that I haven’t been entirely forthright, either. I was already writing more than normal, and I’ve needed time to process since then. I spent 21 remember-forever days in a country in which 95% of the population is Buddhist. I spent 21 incredible days on a trip with eleven other Americans that I normally don’t spend time with at school. I spent 21 days without corporate worship, without regular prayer, without any spiritual guidance. My quiet time dissolved to writing time and adventuring. I felt like I was the only Christian left in the world, that there soon may be none. On the night of May 21, while everyone else went to eat dinner, I sat on my hotel bed for an hour in Siem Reap verging on a quiet, existential panic. It’s dangerous for me to sit and brood by myself without any outlet. I began wondering what topic I would write about next for the stem due the following morning. It quickly spiraled to much deeper thoughts, questioning Jesus, His power and grace, and the authenticity of my relationship with Him. It ended with this journal excerpt:

“Have I just eaten religious food they’ve been spoon-feeding me my whole life?”

Before the trip, people had said they were so excited to hear about what God did in Cambodia. Lying on that bed, I thought to myself, What about what He’s not doing? Where are you, Lord? Where is the power of the Holy Spirit? Where is my courage? Where is my belief?

Where was He? Well here’s the thing –

When I was in Cambodia, I might as well not have been a Christian. I was only some twenty year old gal lugging around a Christian identity and some good values. Everyone on the trip knows I am a Christian. One day when we were all packed up waiting in the lobby, I was holding my journal with gold-lined pages and Lauren asked if it was my Bible. While that was stowed in my backpack, I almost took pride in retorting, “Nope,” I’m not just a Southern Christian hanging onto some foolish beliefs in which I find comfort. But…maybe I was. I yearned to pray with someone, to have someone reaffirm my beliefs. I felt like every day they were stamped out a little bit more, being replaced with some kind of worldly humanism. I talked about it some, but in a more academic, this-is-just-what-I-think kind of way. I didn’t get wasted every night, I didn’t cuss every tenth word, I asked one girl about her religious upbringing and said if she ever had any questions about Christianity, I’d be happy to talk to her. After her mom died, I offered to pray with Liesl, who also goes to IV and lived on my hall this past year. Later she said she’d like that. It never happened. Why did it never happen?

I felt stuck in a state of lukewarm falsehood. I did not know how to truly demonstrate or defend my faith. I didn’t want to offend anyone or be the annoying Christian always bringing the conversation back to Jesus, but I also didn’t want to be living like the Bohemians I met or a lot of other people on the trip – sex with acquaintances, black out drunk parties, gossip, and self-centeredness. Their beliefs ranged from a Baptist PK who “just likes to keep it between me and the Big Man,” to no religious upbringing, to secular humanist, to church attendee with the family on breaks. I didn’t want to let go of my beliefs or lifestyle, but I was spending time only with these folks for 21 days, and I wanted to befriend and relate to them.

I was surrounded by Buddhist temples and monks, I didn’t think they were right, but I also found it beautiful. I loved the culture, I loved witnessing the gracious giving of alms every morning and seeing a society which has found structure and support in religion when the government (massively) fails. But what about the Great Commission? If I really believe this, if Jesus is my savior and the cornerstone of my life, shouldn’t I “go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything Jesus has commanded me?”  I felt like I should, yet I had no desire to do so. It seemed so wrong to try to change this religion. Yet you have Life to offer, Jessica!

Whatever I was in Cambodia, I didn’t have the freedom of fully embracing sin (which can, for a time I think, be a fun lifestyle), but I also was not being filled by the Father, operating out of His love and infinite might. So I was just empty and longing, raw and numb, gnawing for spiritual food that I know is real, but I couldn’t quite access. It was awful, and it scared me. Was Alan right? Had traveling really changed me? Had it stamped out my faith? Traveling is something I am passionate about, and I really am considering teaching English abroad for a few years after college. How would my faith in the future?

I was also worried about coming back home. What if I really have changed? What if I just like my Christian friends and my Christian life and don’t actually love Jesus? What if all of this gets pushed under the rug? Oh Gosh. I’m telling you, I was freaked out. I’m glad I had the internet and a small connection to home. Toward the end of the trip, one of my best friends, Lizzy, posted a blog about her weekend jaunt to Charlotte. She was filled with so much joy, talking about the amazing things the Holy Spirit had revealed that weekend and how they had prayed for her aunt’s back and the Lord healed it. That’s all it took for me to remember this good Lord I serve. It didn’t wipe out all of the questions and doubts, those Dark Nights of the Soul John Donne writes of, but it reminded me that when you call on Him (which, really, I had not been doing), He answers. He comes through.

I’ve been back from Cambodia for about two and a half weeks now. As I talk to friends, I’m reminded that it’s probably a good thing to be challenged. I should probably be highly skeptical of those whose faith is always fine and dandy. I’ve been as candid as I can be with those I’m close to, and many of them “get it” more than I anticipated. When I relayed my Cambodia faith experience to my friend Drew, whose wisdom and discernment I admire a great deal, he emphasized Lizzy’s story and the remembering. Just like Psalm 77, I can question, but I can remember the good things God has done in my life and community. The answered prayers, the prophetic words, the healings, the grace, the joy.  He has answered many times.

I’ve also realized my family and I can be growing together. We’ve been caught up in our own world of graduation festivities, camps, work, and overloaded schedules. Ever since last summer, I’ve wanted to come home and disciple my sisters. Rosa Marie and I have had a few quiet times together, but it is way harder to do than I anticipated. This Tuesday the Compton Clan is headed to Costa Rica for two weeks, though. Mama deserves a much needed break, and I look forward to being able to focus on the Lord with my family. It’s time for the Secret Place, where we can grow and really begin listening to Jesus’ still small voice. I still wonder how this is all going to work out in the end. The doubts are not over, but the faith is not crushed. I’m learning, and I am confident in this one true God.