June 18th

“God doesn’t care.”

I have only said that one time in my life.

It was around this time last year.

I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t look in the mirror, and no one I knew could help.

By then I was well aware that people are unreliable, but I expected more from Him.

He was supposed to shield me from that. He was supposed to fix me. But things didn’t happen the way I thought they would. So I assumed He didn’t care.

It’s funny man. You can learn about Jesus all you want, you can read the Bible from cover to cover, and you can even experience the supernatural, yet you’ll still struggle with doubt.

All the memories and the knowledge don’t count for much when you’re backed into a corner. And I think that’s why He allows us to fall into those situations.

That’s when we can’t rely on our intellect. We can’t rely on our looks, or our friends, or our skills. We have to prove that we genuinely rely on Him.

It’s one thing to look at a chair for example—to scope out its features and see if it’s sturdy. It’s another act entirely to sit in one.

Sitting in the chair requires more than just knowledge. It requires trust in what that chair can do.

The word “faith” is tossed around so much by Christians and nonbelievers alike—to the point where the word has lost much of its meaning—but true faith is as simple as sitting in that chair.

Real faith is just trust. Not blind trust in what you don’t know or what you may have fooled yourself into believing. It’s trust in who or whatever you know is worthy of it.

This of course means that the strength of your faith is restricted by the object of its focus. But luckily for me, I made a wise investment.

I sat in the chair this time last year, not knowing how anything would work out, not knowing if my reputation would be salvaged, not knowing if anyone would even hear me—let alone believe me.

Part of me just wanted to be a good Christian boy who did the right thing. Part of me knew I didn’t have any other choice.

“Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him.”

Now I understand why Job said that.

I’m sure I said something similar before, but that’s because I was supposed to say it. My knowledge told me I was supposed to say it. My school, my church, my parents, they all taught me I was supposed to say it. But I didn’t understand then.

You can’t understand until you’ve lived it. Everything else prepares you but you don’t know until you’ve lived it.

You don’t understand until every other option gets taken away. You don’t see how real it is until you have no one else you can trust.

But I understand now.

I sat in the chair. I did live it. I trusted Him in spite of everything else…

So now I’m ready.

I’m tired of all the trials and the sad stories—and I believe He is too.

That’s why He rewarded me. He gave me a gift I should have never had:

He gave me a voice.

I received the gift of a voice. Or rather, I became a voice.

I became a voice crying in the wilderness.

And, if you ask me, that’s not a bad birthday present at all.

-Drew