Your present trouble has come upon you like a sudden squall that catches a little boat in open water. One moment the sky was clear, and the next you were caught in a foreign land, your passport held, your liberty in the balance, your heart aching for home. I do not make light of such a storm, nor do I chide you for the fear that tightens in your chest when you think of the weeks ahead. That fear is as real as the walls that now hem you in, and the God who made you knows every tremor of it. He does not despise the sigh of the anxious; He stores them in His bottle.
You are, for this season, shut up, a prisoner of circumstances you never chose. And yet, precious soul, even this locked door has a key in the hand of Him who opens and no man shuts. The apostle Paul once wrote of a time when we were kept under the law, shut up, before faith came. Strange as it sounds, the very custody that held him became the usher that led him to Christ. I do not say your trouble is a legal arrest of that kind, but I do say that the God who orders all things can make this confinement a corridor into a deeper knowledge of His faithfulness. You feel the walls pressing in, but the psalmist discovered that the Lord sets the lonely in families, and He can make a foreign courtroom as much a sanctuary as any house of prayer. The same Father who numbers the stars will not forget your cause.
I have seen a father walking in the dark with his child, the little hand fast in his. The child feels the path is strange and frightening, but the father’s grip never loosens. Now, you cannot trace God’s purposes any more than that child can see the road, but you can cling to the character of the One who holds you. He is not a harsh jailer but a tender Shepherd. Did He not promise, “I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee”? That word is a love letter delivered in a black-edged envelope, it comes to you wrapped in hardship, but the message within is pure gold. The trial is dark, but the promise is bright.
When David was afraid, afraid of enemies, of Saul, of the Philistines, of the very collapse of his world, he said, “What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee.” He did not pretend the fear wasn’t there. He did not scold himself for feeling it. He lifted the fear clean up and set it down before his God, and then he deliberately fastened his heart upon the Lord. You may do the same in these waiting weeks, when every knock on the door makes your pulse race and every thought of the coming hearing stirs up dread. “What time I am afraid”, that is the clock of your soul striking the hour right now, “I will trust in thee.” Not in the lawyers, though you may be grateful for them; not in the mercy of the court, though you pray for it; not in your own ability to endure, though God will give you strength. Trust in Him.
Do not suppose that your future hangs upon the frayed thread of a judge’s decision alone. The same Jesus who stilled the Galilean tempest with a word holds the hearts of all men in His hand. He can make a way where no way appears. He can turn the sentence you dread into a light chastening, or even into a full deliverance. But more than that, He can keep your soul in perfect peace even if the storm continues. The ship may be tossed, but the Pilot has never yet lost a vessel committed to His care. The waves that threaten to swallow you are only the pathway for His coming to you.
I would remind you, too, that the hearing of faith is the sweetest music in the ear of God. While you wait, turn your ear from the clatter of anxious thoughts and listen instead to the promises. He has said, “Call upon me in the day of trouble: I will deliver thee, and thou shalt glorify me.” Take that word and press it to your heart. Speak it back to Him in prayer. He delights to hear His own promises returned to Him like a child repeating a father’s words. This is not a vain exercise; it is the very breath of faith.
You long to go home, to see your family, to return to your work. These are no small things. They are the gifts of God, and it is right to desire them. Lay them before the throne. But know this: even now, away from your own country, you are not beyond the precincts of His care. His providence is not bounded by borders or hindered by legal restraints. He can meet you in that foreign room as surely as in your own house. The presence of Christ can transform a jail cell into a palace, and a season of waiting into a school of grace.
Do not let the enemy whisper that your hope is cut off. There is a hope that has no shame, a hope anchored within the veil where Jesus has entered for you. That hope is not built upon your innocence or your legal standing, but upon His finished work. The world’s justice may be uncertain, but the righteousness of Christ is a rock that never shifts. If you are His, you are safe, not because your life is without blemish, but because His blood speaks a better word than any accusation.
The weeks before that second hearing will try your heart, but they need not destroy your peace. Each morning, commit the day into His hands before you ever look at the clock or listen to the news of your case. Let your first thought be, “My times are in Thy hand.” When the fear presses in, do what David did: turn the fear into a prayer. Tell Him, “Lord, I am afraid; be Thou my trust.” He is not wearied by such honesty; He is glorified by it.
Now I want to leave you with a word to steady your soul as a ship steadies when it drops anchor in deep water. The anchor holds, not because the sea is calm, but because it bites into something fixed and unseen. Your anchor is Christ, who has passed into the heavens for you. The waves may roll, but the anchor grips the eternal mercy seat. Whatever the outcome of that court hearing, you are held by a love that will never let you go. If the sentence is light, He will be with you. If it is heavy, He will be with you still. And beyond all these things, there remains a home where no passport is required, no border guards stand watch, and no tear ever falls, the Father’s house, where Jesus has prepared a place for you. Until then, look for the glimpses of His goodness even in this desert. They are there, like manna on the ground, fresh every morning.
Let us pray.
O Lord, Thou who art the Judge of all the earth and the Lover of our souls, look upon this dear one, far from home and trembling before an uncertain future. Thou knowest the fear that grips the heart and the longing that rises for family and familiar things. Be Thou their hiding place and their shield. Grant wisdom to those who advise, favor in the eyes of those who decide, and above all, a quiet confidence in Thee that cannot be shaken. Lift their eyes from the rolling sea to the steady shore. Whether the path leads through a swift release or a longer trial, walk so closely that they feel the warmth of Thy presence and hear the whisper of Thy peace. We commit this whole matter into Thy hands, for Thou dost all things well. In the name of Jesus Christ, our Advocate and our Peace. Amen.
be-an-encourager.blogspot.com
