Silas
Beloved of All
The exhaustion, the anxiety that gnaws at you, the loneliness that settles in during these transitions, these are real and heavy. But the deepest need beneath all of them is not simply for circumstances to change. It is for life itself. Real life. The kind that does not wither when everything familiar is stripped away.
There is a kind of life that operates on the animal plane, as it were, where the body and its demands dominate everything. When appetite vanishes and sleep won’t come and uneasiness grips you, you are feeling the limits of that life. It cannot sustain you through the valley. But the Son of God has life in himself, a self-generating, inexhaustible life, and he gives that life to whoever hears his word and believes on the Father who sent him. This is not a mere improvement of your old existence. It is a passing from death into life. The law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus sets you free from the law of sin and death. The darkness is not driven out by your effort; it is expelled by the stronger force of life coming in.
You may be tempted to think that if only you could get your appetite back, or find companionship, or calm the inner turmoil, then you would be well. And Jesus does heal, though often through methods we do not expect. But he is not merely a healer to be sought for benefits. He is the Savior who gives himself. When you open your life to him, you are not merely opening it to a work he can do; you are opening it to a person. And in that person is eternal life. Not an uncertain hope, not something to toy with, but a present possession. He that has the Son has life.
There is a battle, though. The old life, that life of the flesh, still tries to sit on the throne. Flare-ups of panic, waves of bitterness over what you have lost, the exhaustion that makes you want to murmur and dispute, these belong to the old life. You reckon them dead. Not by pretending they aren’t there, but by faith. You say, “Lord, that anxiety is part of the old life that was buried with Christ. That fear is dead. I now have a new life, a spiritual life, where my spirit is in union with your Spirit.” And the Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead gives life to your mortal body as well. Not necessarily by removing every symptom the moment you ask, Paul prayed for Timothy’s healing and Timothy was not healed, lest we fall into the snare of thinking sickness always stems from unconfessed sin. But the same Spirit strengthens you in the waiting, just as Jesus himself needed to withdraw and be strengthened in prayer.
Loneliness is a deep ache, but it can become a tool if you let it. In the emptiness of life lived under the sun, chasing after what you hope to accomplish, Solomon learned that every ambition ends in cynicism. I hated life, he said. But life in the Son is rich, fulfilling, satisfying. And the path to that richness runs through the low place of serving. Let each esteem others better than themselves. When the mind is lonely, it turns inward and feeds on itself. But when by faith you delight to do God’s will, when his love is planted in your heart, you find a contentment that does not depend on having your old supports around you. Put God at the center, and your life, even in this barren season, becomes full.
So do not wait for a feeling or a sign. The moment you release your faith in Christ himself, the one who has authority to execute judgment and to give life, in that moment something happens. The healing you need may touch body, soul, and spirit all at once, or it may unfold over days you cannot yet see. But the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord. Not a wage you earn by feeling better, but a gift. And that life is your life now. The old is dead. You are alive unto God. Let that certainty anchor you when the uneasiness surges, and let your prayer be simple: “Lord, strengthen me. You are my life. I have passed from death to life.” He will not fail you.
There is a kind of life that operates on the animal plane, as it were, where the body and its demands dominate everything. When appetite vanishes and sleep won’t come and uneasiness grips you, you are feeling the limits of that life. It cannot sustain you through the valley. But the Son of God has life in himself, a self-generating, inexhaustible life, and he gives that life to whoever hears his word and believes on the Father who sent him. This is not a mere improvement of your old existence. It is a passing from death into life. The law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus sets you free from the law of sin and death. The darkness is not driven out by your effort; it is expelled by the stronger force of life coming in.
You may be tempted to think that if only you could get your appetite back, or find companionship, or calm the inner turmoil, then you would be well. And Jesus does heal, though often through methods we do not expect. But he is not merely a healer to be sought for benefits. He is the Savior who gives himself. When you open your life to him, you are not merely opening it to a work he can do; you are opening it to a person. And in that person is eternal life. Not an uncertain hope, not something to toy with, but a present possession. He that has the Son has life.
There is a battle, though. The old life, that life of the flesh, still tries to sit on the throne. Flare-ups of panic, waves of bitterness over what you have lost, the exhaustion that makes you want to murmur and dispute, these belong to the old life. You reckon them dead. Not by pretending they aren’t there, but by faith. You say, “Lord, that anxiety is part of the old life that was buried with Christ. That fear is dead. I now have a new life, a spiritual life, where my spirit is in union with your Spirit.” And the Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead gives life to your mortal body as well. Not necessarily by removing every symptom the moment you ask, Paul prayed for Timothy’s healing and Timothy was not healed, lest we fall into the snare of thinking sickness always stems from unconfessed sin. But the same Spirit strengthens you in the waiting, just as Jesus himself needed to withdraw and be strengthened in prayer.
Loneliness is a deep ache, but it can become a tool if you let it. In the emptiness of life lived under the sun, chasing after what you hope to accomplish, Solomon learned that every ambition ends in cynicism. I hated life, he said. But life in the Son is rich, fulfilling, satisfying. And the path to that richness runs through the low place of serving. Let each esteem others better than themselves. When the mind is lonely, it turns inward and feeds on itself. But when by faith you delight to do God’s will, when his love is planted in your heart, you find a contentment that does not depend on having your old supports around you. Put God at the center, and your life, even in this barren season, becomes full.
So do not wait for a feeling or a sign. The moment you release your faith in Christ himself, the one who has authority to execute judgment and to give life, in that moment something happens. The healing you need may touch body, soul, and spirit all at once, or it may unfold over days you cannot yet see. But the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord. Not a wage you earn by feeling better, but a gift. And that life is your life now. The old is dead. You are alive unto God. Let that certainty anchor you when the uneasiness surges, and let your prayer be simple: “Lord, strengthen me. You are my life. I have passed from death to life.” He will not fail you.
