When Faith Says, "Even If"

 

When Faith Says, “Even If”

“Go, gather together all the Jews who are in Susa, and fast for me. Do not eat or drink for three days, night or day. I and my attendants will fast as you do. When this is done, I will go to the king, even though it is against the law. And if I perish, I perish.”
(Esther 4:16)

There are moments in life when you wish God would just send you a detailed set of instructions. A complete itinerary, expected outcomes, and preferably a money-back guarantee. “Lord, if You want me to take this job, please send me an email. If You want me to move, put it on a billboard. And if You want me to have that difficult conversation with my spouse, perhaps You could just handle that one Yourself.” But God doesn't usually work that way. Sometimes He calls us to take a step without showing us where the staircase leads. And that's exactly where we find Esther.

Esther was a young Jewish woman who had become queen of Persia. She had a palace, servants, beautiful clothes, and probably never had to ask where anyone wanted to go for dinner. But there was a problem. A man named Haman had convinced King Xerxes to issue a decree calling for the destruction of the Jewish people. And Esther was Jewish. Her privilege had become a tremendous responsibility. Her cousin Mordecai sent her a message urging her to intervene. But there was a complication. Under Persian law, no one — not even the queen — could approach the king without being summoned. Doing so could result in death unless the king extended his golden scepter.

I've had difficult conversations where somebody might get upset or even walk out. But I've never had a conversation where I thought, “Well, if this doesn't go well, they're going to execute me.” That's a whole different level of awkward. Esther could remain silent and protect herself temporarily or risk everything to save her people. And then Mordecai asked one of the most important questions in all of Scripture: “And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?” (Esther 4:14) For such a time as this.

What if the very place Esther found herself — the place she had not planned, the circumstances she had not chosen — was exactly where God intended to use her? And what if the same is true of you? Maybe you're dealing with a problem you didn't create or responsibilities you never asked for. And you've been asking God, “Why am I here?” Perhaps the better question is, “Lord, what do You want to do through me while I'm here?” Because sometimes God doesn't put us in comfortable places. He puts us in consequential places. Notice what Esther did next.

She didn't immediately rush into the throne room. She didn't hire a consultant or post a strongly worded statement on social media. She said, “Gather the people and fast for three days.” Before confronting the king, she sought God. The text mentions fasting, not prayer, but Scripture frequently connects fasting with seeking God. Ezra 8:23 tells us: “So we fasted and petitioned our God about this, and he answered our prayer.” Esther understood something we frequently forget. Preparation isn't always about doing more. Sometimes preparation is about becoming still enough to trust God.

We celebrate action: Do something! Fix the problem! We have instant everything. We get irritated when the microwave takes too long. And then we wonder why God's timing seems so slow. “Lord, I've been praying about this for almost twenty minutes. Is there a problem with the connection?” But Isaiah 40:31 reminds us: “But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.” Sometimes slowing down reminds us of who’s in charge. Esther didn't fast because she knew God would guarantee her safety. She fasted because she knew she couldn't control the outcome.

Prayer doesn't always change our circumstances immediately, but prayer changes how we enter those circumstances. Philippians 4:6–7 tells us not to be anxious about anything, but to bring everything to God in prayer. And what does God promise? Not necessarily the outcome we requested. He promises His peace, and sometimes peace is what we need for the next step.

So, after three days, Esther made her decision. She would go to the king. And then she spoke those unforgettable words: “And if I perish, I perish.” Now, that's not exactly the kind of inspirational slogan you'd expect to find on a coffee mug. Most mugs say, “Choose Joy” or “But First, Coffee.” Imagine one that says, “If I perish, I perish.” That'll get your morning started. But Esther wasn't being pessimistic. She was being courageous. She understood the danger and decided that doing right mattered more than comfort. That's what biblical courage looks like.

Courage isn't the absence of fear. Courage is trusting God enough to obey Him while fear is still sitting in the passenger seat. Think about Joshua. After Moses died, God called Joshua to lead the Israelites into the Promised Land. And in Joshua 1:9, God said: “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” Notice what God didn't say. He didn't say, “Joshua, there's nothing to worry about.” There were enemies and a river to cross. God didn't promise Joshua an easy assignment. He promised His presence. Jesus repeats that promise in Matthew 28:20: “And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” Sometimes we want God to remove the obstacle, but God wants us to discover that His presence is greater than the obstacle.

Remember Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego? When King Nebuchadnezzar threatened to throw them into the fiery furnace, they declared that God was able to deliver them. But then they added something remarkable: “But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods.” (Daniel 3:18) There it is again. The faith of Esther. The faith that says, “Even if.” Even if God doesn't answer the way I hoped. Even if the circumstances don't change. Even if obedience costs me something. I will still trust Him. That's not weak faith. That's mature faith.

Here's something important about Esther. We know how her story ends. She approaches the king. He extends his golden scepter. Eventually, Haman's wicked plot is exposed, and the Jewish people are delivered. We can read the story in twenty minutes. Esther couldn't. She was living it one frightening day at a time. She didn't have Esther chapter 5 to reassure her that the king would welcome her. She didn't have chapter 7 to tell her Haman would be exposed. And she certainly didn't have chapter 9 to show her how the story would turn out. She only had the moment in front of her.

 We want chapter 9 while we're still struggling through chapter 4. We want God to show us how everything works out before we're willing to trust Him. But Hebrews 11:1 says: “Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.” And Proverbs 3:5–6 reminds us: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.” Notice it doesn't say God will explain every turn in the road. It says He will direct our paths. But we want God to be our GPS. “Lord, tell me exactly where I'm going, how long it will take, and whether there's traffic.” And God simply says, “Trust Me. Take the next step.”

Thankfully, most of us will never face a Persian king with the power to execute us. But every one of us eventually faces a throne-room moment. Maybe it's a conversation you've been avoiding. Maybe it's admitting you were wrong. That's particularly difficult for some of us. We can apologize, provided we're allowed to explain why we were technically right. As a lawyer, I’ve made a living out of arguing why my client was technically right. Or maybe it's trusting God with a future that looks nothing like the one you planned. James 1:22 tells us: “Do not merely listen to the word and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says.” There comes a time when faith must move from what we believe to what we do. Esther prayed. Esther fasted. And then Esther walked into the throne room. She didn't know what would happen but knew what to do. And sometimes that's all God gives us.

I love that God's name is never explicitly mentioned in the book of Esther. And yet, His providence can be seen throughout the story. Through delays and unexpected reversals, we see God working even when He seems silent. Just because you cannot see God working doesn't mean He isn't working. Just because you don't know the outcome doesn't mean God has lost control. And just because you're afraid doesn't mean you lack faith. Esther's greatness wasn't that she knew everything would turn out well. It was that she chose to do what was right without knowing how things would turn out. So, pray before you move. Seek godly counsel. Prepare your heart. And when the moment comes, take the step. Not because you know what tomorrow holds, but because you know the One who holds tomorrow.

Perhaps the greatest question isn't “Will everything work out the way I want?” but: “Lord, will I still trust You if it doesn't?” Because real faith doesn't always say, “I know God will rescue me.” Sometimes real faith simply says: “I know God is able. I know God is good. And even if things don't turn out the way I hoped, I will trust Him.” Esther said, “If I perish, I perish.” Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego said, “Even if He does not.” And Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane, prayed: “Yet not my will, but yours be done.” (Luke 22:42) Three different moments. One extraordinary expression of surrender.

Faith is not trusting God because we know how the story ends; faith is trusting God because we know who’s writing it. And when your moment comes, when the door opens and the future is uncertain, may you have the courage to say: “Lord, I've prayed. I've prepared. I'm afraid. But I'm going forward. And whatever happens, I'm trusting You – even if.”

Grace,

Randy

When You Don't Know What Comes Next

 

When You Don’t Know What Comes Next

When You Don't Know What Comes Next - Audio/Visual 

“Seth also had a son, and he named him Enosh. At that time people began to call on the name of the Lord.” (Genesis 4:26)

There are some verses in the Bible that arrive with trumpets. The Red Sea parts. Fire falls from heaven. Goliath hits the ground. Lazarus walks out of the tomb. And then there’s Genesis 4:26. A baby is born. His name is Enosh. And people start praying. That's it. There’s no parted sea. No fire. No giant falling over. Just a child being born and people beginning to call on the name of the Lord. But sometimes the quiet verses contain the loudest truths because Genesis 4:26 comes at the end of a very dark chapter.

Cain has murdered Abel. Adam and Eve have buried a son. Another son has become a wanderer. Violence is spreading. Sin has moved from the garden into the family and from the family into society. Imagine Adam and Eve sitting at the dinner table. There’s an empty chair where Abel should have been, and somewhere far away is Cain. They knew what Eden had been like. They remembered walking with God in the garden. They remembered life before shame, before blame, before graves. And now nothing looked the way they thought it would. Then Seth is born. Later Seth has a son named Enosh. And Scripture quietly says: “At that time people began to call on the name of the Lord.” They couldn't go back to Eden. They couldn't undo what Cain had done. They couldn't bring Abel back. They couldn't predict what would happen next. But they could call on God. That’s faith.

We sometimes imagine that mature Christians walk around with answers to everything. Most of us don't live there. Sometimes our most spiritual prayer sounds more like: “Lord, I have absolutely no idea what’s going on.” And there’s something wonderfully biblical about that prayer. Sometimes we approach God the way men approach the instruction manual that came with something requiring assembly. We don't actually want to read it. We just want to know why there are three screws left over. You put the whole thing together, stand back proudly, and your wife says, “Is it supposed to lean like that?” “Absolutely. That's a design feature.” Then you finally open the instructions. Life can feel like that.

We have plans. Expectations. Timelines. We think we know how the pieces are supposed to fit. Then suddenly there are three screws left over and the whole thing is leaning. Genesis 4:26 says that when life no longer made sense, people began to call on the name of the Lord. But notice what the verse doesn't say. It doesn't say: “At that time everybody figured everything out.” It doesn't say: “At that time God explained everything.” It doesn't even say: “At that time everything got better.” It simply says they called. Genesis 4:26 doesn't give us a resolution; it gives us a posture.

There are things in life we can fix. Flat tire? Fix it. Leaky faucet? Fix it — or call somebody who actually knows what he or she's doing before the small leak becomes an indoor swimming pool. But there are other things we can’t fix. You can’t fix yesterday. You can’t force someone to love you. You can’t guarantee tomorrow. You can’t make every medical test come back the way you want. You can’t control your children or grandchildren forever. You can’t make another person make the right decision. You can’t prevent every disappointment.

And one of life's hardest lessons is discovering that there are burdens we were never strong enough to carry. The people of Genesis 4 discovered that. And what did they do? They called on God. That phrase appears again and again throughout Scripture. Abraham built an altar and “called on the name of the Lord.” (Genesis 12:8) David wrote: “I call to the Lord, who is worthy of praise.” (Psalm 18:3) Jeremiah records God's invitation: “Call to me and I will answer you.” (Jeremiah 33:3) God's people are calling. Why? Because calling on God is an admission: I need someone greater than me. That’s not a weakness. That’s faith.

Most of us would prefer certainty. We want God to tell us how everything will turn out. “Lord, I'll trust You. I just need a detailed explanation, a timeline, three references, and preferably something notarized.” But God rarely gives us that. Instead, He gives us Himself. Proverbs 3:5 says: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” We like the “trust in the Lord” part; it's the “lean not on your own understanding” part that gets a little uncomfortable. Most of us are pretty fond of our understanding. We consult it regularly. And occasionally our understanding says, “God, I think You're doing this wrong.” Maybe you've had that conversation. “Lord, I'm not trying to tell You how to run the universe, but I do have a suggestion.” And heaven somehow continues operating without our assistance.

Faith is learning that I do not need to understand everything God is doing in order to trust the God who is doing it. That’s what makes Genesis 4:26 so powerful. They called on God before they knew how the story would end. And maybe that’s exactly where you are today. You're waiting. Waiting for an answer. Waiting for something to change. Waiting for somebody else to change. Waiting for healing. Waiting to discover whether the thing you've been praying about is going to turn out the way you hope. And waiting has a strange effect on time. Five minutes waiting for your food at a restaurant is reasonable. But five minutes after the person who arrived fifteen minutes after you getting his or her food? “My server has clearly forgotten all about me.” Waiting makes us restless. Spiritual waiting does the same thing.

We begin wondering: “God, where are You?” “Did You hear me?” “Have You forgotten me?” But Scripture repeatedly teaches us that God's silence is not God's absence. Psalm 46:1 says: “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.” Not an occasionally present help. Not a present help only when everything makes sense. Ever-present. So, call from where you are. You don't have to wait until your faith feels stronger. You don't have to clean up the prayer. You don't have to pretend. Sometimes the most honest prayer is: “God, I'm scared.” “God, I'm angry.” “God, I'm tired.” “God, I don't understand.” Peter prayed one of the shortest prayers in Scripture while sinking in the water: “Lord, save me!” (Matthew 14:30) Not especially eloquent. No introduction. No three points. No closing illustration. Just three words. But Peter knew who to call. Sometimes you don't need a long prayer. You just need the right name.

There’s another beautiful detail in Genesis 4:26. It doesn't say merely that Seth called upon God. It says: “People began to call on the name of the Lord.” That matters because suffering often tempts us to isolate ourselves. When we're hurting, embarrassed, confused, or disappointed, our instinct can be to withdraw. But God gave us one another. Galatians 6:2 says: “Carry each other's burdens.” Sometimes you need someone to pray with you because you've run out of words. Sometimes you need someone beside you who can say: “I don't know what God is doing either, but I'll sit here with you while we trust Him.”

That may be one of the greatest gifts one Christian can give another. Not an explanation, but presence. Not, “I know exactly why God allowed this,” but “Let's call on Him together.” And here’s perhaps the most important thing about Genesis 4:26. After people began calling on God, Genesis 5 begins. And people still die. Then Genesis 6 comes, and humanity becomes even more corrupt. Calling on God did not instantly remove the brokenness of the world, and following Christ doesn’t mean we’re promised a life without grief, uncertainty, illness, disappointment, or unanswered questions. Jesus never promised that. He promised something better: “I am with you always.” (Matthew 28:20) The promise is not: You will always understand. The promise is: You will never be alone. That’s a pretty big difference.

Maybe you've driven somewhere unfamiliar with someone who knows exactly where you're going. You have no idea where you are. You're looking around thinking, “This can’t possibly be right.” But the driver isn't worried. Why? Because he knows the road. Sometimes faith is sitting in the passenger seat saying: “I don't recognize this road, Lord.” And God says: “I do.” “But this isn't where I thought we were going.” “I know.” “I don't understand.” “You don't have to understand the whole road. Trust the One who’s driving.” That’s faith.

The people in Genesis 4 didn't know what the next chapter held, and neither do we. None of us knows what next month will bring. You may have carefully planned out the next five years. That's wonderful. God has probably enjoyed reading your plans. But eventually life brings us to places where our calendar cannot help us, our experience cannot solve, and our strength cannot carry. And when that happens, Genesis 4:26 whispers across thousands of years: Call on the name of the Lord. You don't need to know what comes next. You need to know Who is with you when it comes. Psalm 50:15 says: “Call on me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you will honor me.” So, call.

Call when you're confident. Call when you're frightened. Call when you understand. Call when nothing makes sense. Call when the answer comes. Call while you're still waiting. Call when your faith feels strong. And call when all you can manage is: “Jesus, help me.” Because faith is not pretending uncertainty doesn't exist. Faith is deciding who you will trust in the middle of the uncertainty. Seth had a son. His name was Enosh. The world was still broken. Abel was still gone. Cain was still wandering. Eden was still behind them. The future was still uncertain. But something had changed. People began to lift their eyes toward heaven. They began to call upon the name of the Lord. And perhaps that’s God's invitation to us today. You may not know how your situation will end. You may not know what tomorrow holds. You may not understand what God is doing. And that's all right because when you don’t know what comes next, call on Him. All you really need to know is His name.

Grace,

Randy

God's at Work in the Ordinary

 

God’s at Work in the Ordinary

God's at Work in the Ordinary - Audio/Visual 

“Zillah also had a son, Tubal-Cain, who forged all kinds of tools out of bronze and iron. Tubal-Cain’s sister was Naamah.” (Genesis 4:22)

              Now, if you’re reading through Genesis, you might be tempted to say, “Okay… Tubal-Cain. Bronze and iron. Naamah. Got it. I’m moving on.” It’s not exactly the verse you would put on a coffee mug. You don’t usually hear someone say, “My life’s verse is Genesis 4:22.” He forged tools, worked with bronze and iron and his sister’s name is Naamah. That’s it. No great sermon. No Red Sea parting. No giant falling. No burning bush. Just a man doing his work. And yet God thought his life, including his sister’s, was worth mentioning. That’s because God sees the ordinary.

Sometimes we imagine that God is primarily interested in the big moments of our lives. We think God is interested when we get married, when we have a baby, when we get the promotion, when we retire, when we buy a house, when we sell a house, when we finally get the answer to the prayer we’ve been praying for ten years. But Genesis 4:22 reminds us that God is also interested in the ordinary.

Tubal-Cain was apparently good at making things. He worked with metal. He forged tools. He probably went to work, came home, ate dinner, went to bed, got up the next morning and did it all over again. Sound familiar? Most of us live much more like Tubal-Cain than Moses – we don’t wake up every morning expecting a burning bush in the backyard. We wake up and look for our glasses. And if you're like me, you may have to find your glasses before you can find your phone so you can see what you missed while you were asleep. We look at the calendar. We check he weather. We take care of the house. We pay the bills. We mow the lawn. We fix things. We make appointments. We take care of family. We go to the grocery store and wonder how four bags of groceries can cost $187.69. And somewhere in the middle of all that ordinary stuff, we sometimes wonder: “Does any of this really matter to God?” Genesis 4:22 says, “Yes,” because God sees the ordinary. In fact, you may be forging something you cannot see.

We live in a world where everything seems to move at incredible speed. We can order something on our phone in the morning and have it sitting on our doorstep that afternoon. We can send a message to somebody on the other side of the country and get an answer almost immediately. We can video-chat with somebody thousands of miles away. We can even ask artificial intelligence a question and get an answer before we've finished thinking about the question itself. But God still works at a different pace. We want instant answers, but God often works through long seasons. We want the microwave; God sometimes gives us the crockpot.

Tubal-Cain, for his part, forged tools. And there’s something intriguing about forging. You take something that looks rough and unfinished, and you put it into the fire. Then you hammer it. You shape it. You heat it again. You hammer it again. And eventually something useful begins to emerge. Now, if you were the piece of metal, you’d probably be thinking, “This is not going well.” You didn't ask for the fire. You didn't ask for the hammer. And you certainly didn't ask for somebody to keep pounding you with it. But the craftsman knows what the metal doesn’t  – he knows what he’s making. And that's exactly where we are with God. The metal doesn't understand the blacksmith's plan, but the blacksmith does.

The truth is that we live in a “microwave” world. We live in a culture that wants everything instantly. We want instant coffee. Instant messaging. Instant downloads. Instant photos. Instant answers. And now we have artificial intelligence that can draft a 2,000-word essay before you've even finished typing the topic. We've gotten incredibly good at making things happen quickly. But God has never seemed particularly impressed with our timetable.

And then, all of a sudden, you’re looking at your own life and thinking, “Why doesn't my life look like Sally’s?” But remember you're comparing your everyday life to somebody else's highlight reel. Most people don't post the picture of the broken water heater, the argument they had that morning, the unexpected bill or the three hours they spent waiting for customer service in India to answer the phone. We see everybody else's finished product while God may still be working on our foundation. And just because we cannot see what God is doing doesn’t mean God is doing nothing. In fact, the work you’re doing may be preparing you for something you cannot see.

Tubal-Cain didn't know what his tools would eventually accomplish. He didn't have the benefit of looking backward through history. He just knew what was in front of him. He had metal. He had fire. He had a hammer and he had work to do. And sometimes that's all God gives us. So, what’s in front of you today? Maybe you're raising children. Maybe you're caring for an aging parent. Maybe you're working at a job that isn't your dream job. Maybe you're rebuilding after a disappointment. Maybe you're learning something new. Maybe you're trying to become the person God wants you to become. Maybe you're praying for something that hasn't happened yet. Maybe you're simply trying to remain faithful when life isn't turning out the way you expected. But don't despise the season. God often does some of His greatest work in the seasons that look the least impressive.

David spent years watching sheep before he ever wore a crown. Joseph spent years in places he never expected to be before God opened the door for which he had been waiting. Moses spent forty years in the wilderness before God called him to confront Pharaoh. And Tubal-Cain? He forged tools. Sometimes preparation looks remarkably ordinary.

And then there’s the other detail in Genesis 4:22. It says: “Tubal-Cain’s sister was Naamah.” Why tell us her name? We don't know anything about Naamah, plus that’s the name we use for our grandma. Scripture doesn't give us her biography. We don't know what she accomplished. We don't know what her résumé looked like. We don't know whether she ever stood in front of a crowd or accomplished something that history would call great. But God recorded her name. Naamah. God remembers people we would forget. Think about that. Thousands of years later, we're talking about her because God decided that her name belonged in the story. And that ought to encourage somebody who feels forgotten. Because you may not be famous. Your name may not appear in a newspaper. You may not have thousands of followers. You may not have a book written about you. You may not have a statue somewhere. And frankly, some of us are perfectly happy with that. But God knows your name. God doesn’t measure your life by how many people notice you. He measures it by your faithfulness to Him.

Don’t confuse hidden with forgotten because there’s a big difference. A seed is hidden before it grows. A foundation is hidden beneath a building. Roots are hidden beneath the ground. The most important part of a tree may be the part that nobody ever sees. It’s not forgotten; it’s just hidden.

And sometimes God has us in a hidden season because He's developing something beneath the surface. You can't see the roots growing. You can't see the character being formed. You can't see the wisdom developing. You can't see how today's experience will connect with tomorrow's assignment. But that doesn't mean nothing is happening. In fact, something may very well be happening precisely because you can’t see it yet. It’s like a building under construction. When you drive past it during its early stages, sometimes all you see is a big hole in the ground with dirt everywhere. Trucks are coming and going. It doesn't look like much. But underneath all that dirt, they're building the foundation. Nobody drives by and says, “Look at that beautiful foundation!” But without the foundation, there wouldn’t be much of a building. You may be in a foundation season right now, and foundation work is often underground. It's hidden. It's slow. And it's not very exciting. But it’s absolutely necessary and certainly not forgotten.

So, what do we do while we're waiting? We do what Tubal-Cain did. We work with what God has placed in our hands. We use the gifts He has given us. We remain faithful in the responsibilities He's entrusted to us. We don't have to know the whole plan. We don't have to control the timeline. We don't have to understand every circumstance. We simply have to trust the Craftsman. Maybe today you're holding a hammer and wondering why God hasn't given you a crown. Maybe you're holding a set of tools and wondering why God hasn't opened the door. Maybe you're in the workshop wondering when the masterpiece is going to appear. Keep working. Keep trusting. Keep praying. Keep obeying. Keep becoming the person God is calling you to become. Because waiting doesn’t mean that God’s doing nothing. Sometimes waiting is where God is doing His deepest work. That’s because God is in the details.

Genesis 4:22 is easy to skip and, perhaps, that's part of the lesson. God is telling us that He’s present not only in the spectacular moments, but also in the details. In the workshop. In the kitchen. At the office. In the classroom. In the hospital room. At the kitchen table. In the retirement years. In the season of uncertainty. In the unanswered prayer. In the ordinary Tuesday afternoon. God is there.

So, if you're in a season today where you can't see what God is doing, don't assume He's absent. If the answer hasn't come, don't assume God’s forgotten you. If the door hasn't opened, don't assume God isn't preparing you. And if your life feels ordinary, don't assume it’s insignificant. Tubal-Cain forged tools. Naamah was remembered by name. And God was at work in the details. You may not be able to see what God is building. You may not understand why the process is taking so long. You may not know how today's faithfulness connects to tomorrow's purpose. But you can trust the Craftsman. Because the One who holds the future also holds you while you wait for it. And sometimes the most faithful thing you can say is simply: “Lord, I may not understand what you’re doing, but I trust You. You’re at work in the ordinary — even in the ordinary moments of people just like me.

Grace,

Randy