Changing the Rules
Megan Breedlove This evening, Lindsey and I were playing the board game Sorry. I love that game. It’s relatively simple so that even young children can play it, and it’s fun. Sometimes they win; sometimes I win.
Tonight, I won. Lindsey hadn’t really been paying attention to the game before then. She would focus long enough to take her turns, then start playing with other objects around her. But when I announced that I had won, she zeroed in on my four pawns sitting in the Home circle. She froze, with an uh-oh look on her face. Then she reached into the box, grabbed a yellow pawn and a red one, and plunked them down in my Start circle. “You forgot about these,” she said matter-of-factly.
Problem solved, right? If things don’t work out, you just change the rules.
In a game of Sorry, we can sometimes get away with that. In real life, we can’t. That’s because when things don’t turn out right, there’s usually no way to change the rules. You’re stuck with the results you didn’t want, and there’s no getting around it.
The only problem is, we don’t realize this. We think that when something bad happens, there has to be a way to undo it. But sometimes there isn’t. Sure, we can mitigate the circumstances. We can find something to do that will take away our pain, at least partly. But we can’t pretend that we really did get the job, or that our disabled child is really normal, or that death or a divorce didn’t really happen. We can’t go back and we can’t go around, so we’re stuck with going through.
That’s when we usually balk: when we realize there’s no way out but to accept the circumstances and feel the pain we can’t avoid. It happened, we’re trapped, and the only way out is to move forward.
Why write about something depressing at Christmas? Because many, many of us have been there or are still there. Because sometimes when we’re stuck, Christmas is the hardest time of all. But most of all, because 2,000 years ago, a tiny baby was born so He could help us through the things we can’t survive on our own.
He came to help us find the way out of our sin. He lived 33 years, then died on a cross to take the punishment for our sin so we wouldn’t have to. Through His birth, life, death, and resurrection, He made a way for us to be reconciled to God. No longer do we have to remain God’s enemies. We can be His friends now, His dearly beloved children.
He also came to help us find the way out of our circumstances. No, not necessarily to undo them, but to set us free from having to be trapped in them. Apart from Christ, when something bad happens to us, it’s impossible to rise above the effects. Sure, some people seem to make progress by sheer willpower or by a vague kind of spirituality. But this is not the complete victory Christ promises.
This victory doesn’t mean the circumstances won’t have happened to us. After all, Christ is called the victor over death, and death certainly happened to Him. But like Him, we can become victors over what has happened.
What does it mean to have victory over a circumstance we never wanted? Just this: that our soul’s security and joy remains ultimately unshaken. Our happiness may wind up in tatters, and we may be shaken for a time. But we can know that because of Christ, because of His love for us, because of the way He holds us secure when our very soul trembles uncontrollably, we will ultimately triumph over what happened.
I don’t know exactly what your triumph will look like, or when it will come. But I do know that it will come, because God has promised not to leave us or forsake us. He’s also promised that one day, we will enter heaven, and we will never sorrow again. Sometimes, when the pain is at its fiercest, we wonder whether it will ever end. It will. I don’t say so because it’s what I hope is true, or even because it’s what I have experienced. I say so because it’s what God has promised, and I trust Him.
You may be stuck with some horrible circumstances you never wanted. But you won’t be stuck with them forever. One day, in heaven, you will never sorrow about them again. And in the meantime, you can still experience joy even in the midst of heartrending anguish.
Next week, we’ll look at what joy and victory in the midst of anguish look like. I don’t promise to have all the answers. But I will share with you at least one answer God has provided. It’s one that He wants to use to minister to your heart.
Let’s meet here next week.
Psalm 121:1-2—I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.
