It was so awkward; I just wanted to move on. Passing through Indianapolis on the way to a wedding, we had a couple hours to take my friend Angie to dinner. Angie is a sought-after dogsitter, and she asked my husband and I to meet her at a client’s home. While Angie shared interesting tidbits about the two dogs bounding around us, I felt a sharp twinge on my ankle. The fluffy little Shih Tzu bit me.
I immediately dismissed a trip to the emergency department, much preferring dinner and conversation. After all, wound care is not that complicated. I washed the bite, slathered on antibacterial ointment, and bandaged it up. We had a lovely evening, despite the occasional throbbing pain in my right ankle.
After the wedding, my diligent wound care continued. A month or so later, a family member spied the seeping mess on my leg and said, “That looks terrible! You’ve got to get that looked at!” I reluctantly agreed.
While the nurse practitioner examined my wound, I described my daily care routine to her, stressing my faithful diligence. She smiled slightly, agreeing with my general methods.Then she said, “Yes, what you’re doing in terms of wound care is generally good, but something else is going on here. You're allergic to that antibacterial ointment.” My diligent solution ended up making the problem worse, not better.
In life, I see a similar pattern. There is an issue, so we horizontally address it. We’re anxious, so we find new ways to breathe and calm down. Past struggles haunt us, so we crank up the music. The current of unresolved issues, indwelling sin, and uncontrollable circumstances threatens to pull us under. We ask ourselves why we’re feeling this way, and we cull our hearts and minds for answers.
This kind of diligence is natural, but often misplaced. Ruminating doesn’t heal our wounds, but usually makes them worse. Understanding what we've experienced in the past and how it affects our present attitudes can be a step toward healing. If that is where the process ends, however, we can end up in a non-productive cycle. The solution isn’t another diligent practice. It involves another orientation.
Consider Numbers 21. Like so many desert narratives, it describes the Israelites complaining about their lot. They didn’t like the desert, they didn't like the food, and they didn’t like Moses for bringing them there. The Lord answered their biting words with biting venomous snakes. After many died, they reconsidered their extended venting session, confessed their sin, and asked Moses to appeal to God on their behalf. They did what they knew to do and got busy on the horizontal level.
Getting busy wasn’t enough. God called Moses to create a bronze snake, put it on a pole, and instruct them to look up at it to live. The snake is a precursor to the Cross, and it is important, as is the deeper message. Confession and the recognition of personal sin, to Moses and even God, wasn't enough to heal them. What they did horizontally didn’t bring them the health and strength they desired. They had to follow God’s instructions, too. They had to look up.
We have to do the same. How do you look up and beyond yourself? Contemplate Jesus in your struggle, and ask him three simple questions:
Lord, what are you teaching me?
Lord, how do you want me to grow?
Lord, how should I move forward honoring you in this place?
God always answers the earnest cries of our hearts–through his Word and his ways. His answers are the wisdom we need to help us grow in sanctification, become more like Jesus, and develop deeper strength. Vertical growth strengthens and renews our faith.
Peter walked on water when he kept his focus on Christ instead of the wind and the waves. We too can transcend the circumstances of our lives when we look outside ourselves, ask the Lord for a new perspective, and trust him to guide us through.
Crystal is a Christ-follower, wife, mother, counselor, and friend. She is passionate about connecting others with the truth of God's miraculous power and sustaining presence.
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