Jesus went on to say, “In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me.” (John 16:16, NIV)
My dad and I have played golf together for many years now, enjoying the swap of tournament stories and following tour players we like. In recent years, though, my dad has expressed one repeated lament: “My game has disappeared.”
It’s not true, not in the long-term sense. He has shot or scared his age numerous times over the past 18 months, but every time he hits a funk, he worries like the rest of us. He reads the magazines, asks me what I think, arranges a lesson, adds a practice session. It’s hard to pinpoint which of these attempted solutions actually works, but soon enough his game comes back and he’s telling me about another good round.
But here’s the thing. It doesn’t take a golfer to get to fretting about the absence of what’s good in our lives. We even do this with God.
In the days ahead of his crucifixion, Jesus was plain with his disciples about the course to come. For a short time, they would see him no more. Then he would return. For three days, he would leave them, but then “the temple” would be rebuilt. “The Son of Man will be handed over to be crucified,” he bluntly told them.
Still they were unprepared. And when Jesus did go to the grave, his followers scattered, frightened and disillusioned. When Cleopas and his fellow disciple encountered the risen Lord on the way to Emmaus, they told him, “We had hoped that he was the one who was going to redeem Israel.” Past tense. In 48 hours, give or take, their hope had faded.
What of us? We know that Jesus is risen and here to stay. Yet when we get to thinking that he has taken another road and left us on our own—David expressed this feeling at the outset of Psalm 22: “Why are you…so far from the words of my groaning?”—we too fall into self-pity. And we may go so far as to ask the bigger questions: Where is God? Does he even exist at all?
Desert times, desolate times, will come for all of us. We will stand exposed to the searing heat of the world’s troubles—disrobed, lips cracked, without cover. Like Jonah east of Nineveh, we will exaggerate God’s absence: “It would be better for me to die.”
As the disciples did upon Jesus’ death, we may realize times in our lives when God—by our perception or by his reality—has pulled back from us. It is not an abandonment. It is never an abandonment. It is his way of producing in us a new cry for his mercy, his provision, his care. He will return with fresh water, with new wine. Let us stay true, knowing it is worth the wait.
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Jeff Hopper
January 25, 2012
Copyright © 2012 Links Players International
The Links Daily Devotional appears Monday through Friday at www.linksplayers.com.