Meat, Manna, Milk and Honey OR Life After Death

So I worked on my lessons this weekend about the Israelites and their deliverance and the Promised Land. Right now I'm thinking about two lines from Day 3 in particular: "God's promises aren't necessarily realized without struggle," and "We have to believe that where God wants to take us will be better than what we're clinging to, even if we can't imagine it." I don't know about the rest of you, but man, those are hitting home with me right now!

Those of you who knew me before my NOG days know that Tori's arrival into our family was a surprise, and not a completely welcomed surprise at first. But as I began to process some of the emotions my pregnancy stirred up, I felt like God told me that I was entering a season of pruning for bearing greater fruit. A time in which parts would be cut away--but only to reveal a deeper beauty underneath. And that sounded pretty good to me at the time... greater fruit, deeper beauty. Good stuff, right? Those promises sounded encouraging and purpose-giving.

But now, now that I'm really entering into that season (and if I'm honest about it, most days I'm not even entering it so much by choice as much as by the fact that it simply can't be avoided), I'm not feeling so encouraged or full of purpose or beauty. More like isolated and resentful and ugly. Wondering why on earth I ever thought the promise of being "pruned" was encouraging at all, and realizing that some parts of my life that I am/was pretty attached to are being cut away. And honestly, it kind of hurts.

Then I read this bit about the Israelites wanting to go back to Egypt because they were tired of eating manna every day. How they would have paid the price of their freedom to have what they somehow remembered as being a pretty good set up back in Egypt. Silly Israelites. Then later, when they could even see with their own eyes the greatness of the land God promised them, they lost heart because it just seemed too daunting. They wanted to give up. Give up on remembering God's goodness in the past. Give up on seeing through their circumstances to the greater purpose and promise. Just plain give up on believing God.

And suddenly, I'm just a big fat ungrateful Israelite.... Wishing for the "comfort" of Egypt's shackles around my wrists. Tossing piles of manna to the side because I've just had enough of it. Licking the drops of honey off my fingers as I turn and walk the other way because I don't have it in me to fight for more, all the while forgetting that the battle isn't mine, anyway. I'm tempted to give up. Give up on remembering God's goodness in the past. Give up on seeing through the circumstances to the greater purpose and promise. Just plain give up on believing God.

So, as usual, it seems to come down to a choice.

Am I willing to be pruned--to suffer a thousand tiny "deaths" to allow for the new life God offers? Because with pruning, the new life can't grow 'til after the death occurs. When an artist carves a sculpture, the beauty can't be revealed until a lot of the surface is cut away.

Will I keep my focus on the free-flowing milk and honey and look past the "giants" of my circumstances? I can't visibly see my Promised Land right now like the Israelites could, and that makes it seem even more difficult. But the question is still the same: Will I choose to believe God's promises to me, or not? Do I really believe where He promises to take me is better than where I am now? Will I make room in my life for what He has promised to give?

I'm not sure exactly what saying yes to those questions looks like. And like many of us have admitted, I'm not always sure I really feel that "yes" way down deep inside, even when I say it externally. But as our courageous blog initiatior asked... Is there anything else worth chasing? Nope.

I believe, Lord. Help me in my unbelief!