Nothing Is Too Hard for You “‘Ah, Lord God! It is you who have made the heavens and the earth by your great power and by your outstretched arm! Nothing is too hard for you.’” Jeremiah 32:17 Jeremiah spoke these words during an incredibly difficult time. Jerusalem was under siege. The situation looked hopeless. There seemed to be no obvious way out. Yet Jeremiah began by reminding himself of who God is. “You made the heavens and the earth.” In other words: If You created the universe, then this situation is not beyond You. It reminds me in some ways of the beginning of the Lord’s Prayer: “Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name…” Matthew 6:9 Before Jesus teaches us to ask for our daily bread, forgiveness or deliverance, He teaches us to begin with God. Our Father. In heaven. Holy is Your name. Before we look at the size of our problem, we remember the greatness of our God. Jeremiah does something similar. Before focusing on the impossible situation surrounding him, he turns his attention toward the God who created everything. And perhaps that is something we need to learn to do. There are times in life when everything becomes too hard. We find ourselves trapped in circumstances where there seems to be no way forward. Sometimes we arrive there because of our own choices. That was part of Israel’s story in Jeremiah’s time. Their rebellion against God had consequences. But sometimes we face situations that are completely outside our control. Either way, eventually we all encounter something bigger than ourselves. Something we cannot fix. Something we cannot reason our way through. Something our own strength simply cannot overcome. And perhaps sometimes God allows us to reach the end of our own ability because there are things we can only learn when we discover that our strength was never meant to replace His. Think about the Red Sea. Israel had nowhere to go. The sea was in front of them. Pharaoh’s army was behind them. Humanly speaking, there was no solution.

The God Of The Man Who Worked Down The Hall We all know the story of Daniel in the lions’ den. But this morning, I noticed something I had never really stopped to think about before. King Darius. After being tricked into signing the decree that condemned Daniel, this powerful king suddenly discovered there was something even his authority couldn’t fix. Daniel was thrown into the lions’ den. And Darius went back to his palace. But look at what happened that night: “Then the king went to his palace and spent the night fasting; no diversions were brought to him, and sleep fled from him.” Daniel 6:18 Think about that. Daniel was surrounded by lions. Darius was surrounded by all the comforts of a palace. Yet it was Darius who couldn’t sleep. He refused food. He refused his usual entertainment. He tossed and turned through the night, completely helpless to change what had happened. And something struck me. What makes a Gentile king, who did not worship the God of Israel, spend the night fasting and hoping that Daniel’s God might somehow intervene? It wasn’t a theological debate. It wasn’t a sermon. It wasn’t a royal decree. It was Daniel’s life. Before Daniel was ever thrown into the lions’ den, Darius had been watching him. Daniel 6:4 tells us that Daniel was trustworthy and that no corruption or negligence could be found in him. His faith wasn’t something he pulled out when trouble came. It was how he lived. His faith filled his work. His integrity. His decisions. His attitude. His everyday life. Darius knew this. That is why, before the stone was placed over the lions’ den, he said: “May your God, whom you serve continually, deliver you!” Daniel 6:16 Whom you serve continually. Those words say so much. Darius had seen enough of Daniel’s life to know that Daniel didn’t serve God occasionally. Not just when it was convenient. Not just when people were watching. Not just when he needed something. Daniel served God continually. Then morning came.

Formed for the Target “He made my mouth like a sharpened sword, in the shadow of His hand He hid me; He made me into a polished arrow and concealed me in His quiver.” Isaiah 49:2 While I was praying, the words came into my thoughts: “Flies straight like an arrow.” As I sat with those words, another thought followed: A bent arrow won’t hit the target, no matter how hard you aim. And I began to wonder whether this was an invitation to understand something about where we are positioned in God’s timing. There are three parts to the journey of an arrow: THE STRAIGHTENING. THE HIDING. THE RELEASE. Before an arrow can fly straight, the arrow itself must be straight. You can pull the bow harder. You can aim more carefully. You can put more effort behind it. But greater effort cannot compensate for misalignment. Sometimes God is not asking us to try harder. He is doing the quiet, internal work of alignment. Straightening our character. Healing hidden wounds. Refining our motives. Removing the things that could pull us away from the direction He intends. God works in the arrow before He works through the arrow. What feels like correction may actually be preparation. What feels uncomfortable may be God gently removing the bends that would cause us to miss the target later. Isaiah says the polished arrow was concealed in His quiver. There are seasons when we may feel hidden. Waiting. Unseen. Uncertain of what God is doing. But hidden does not mean forgotten. An archer does not leave his arrows scattered on the ground. He places them safely in his quiver, protected and close to him, until the exact moment they are needed. Perhaps the quiver isn’t rejection at all. Perhaps it is protection. Perhaps it is preparation. Perhaps God is keeping you close while He prepares both the arrow and the target. The hidden season is not necessarily an empty season. There may be polishing happening there. Sharpening. Straightening. Preparing. But the quiver was never meant to be the arrow’s permanent home.

“YOU SHALL LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOR AS YOURSELF.” Mark 12:31 We often read this verse and focus on one thing: LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOUR. Be kind. Be patient. Be compassionate. Be forgiving. But recently I found myself stopping at two little words: AS YOURSELF. What if you don’t particularly like yourself, let alone love yourself? What if the way you speak to yourself is harsh? What if you constantly criticise yourself, rarely forgive yourself, and expect things from yourself that you would never expect from another person? And what if, without even realising it, you begin treating others in the same way you have learned to treat yourself? Maybe there is something here we sometimes overlook. Jesus said: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Perhaps those words reveal something about the way love flows through our lives. If your inner world has been filled with criticism, rejection, neglect or pain, sometimes love can be difficult to give simply because healthy love is something you have never learned to receive. But notice what Jesus says immediately before this: “You shall love the Lord your God…” Love begins with God. Our value isn’t created by our performance, achievements, appearance, usefulness or even our own opinion of ourselves. Our value begins with the One who created us and loves us. And perhaps healing begins when we stop arguing with God about whether we are worthy of His love and simply allow ourselves to receive it. His grace begins changing the way we see ourselves. We learn to speak to ourselves with a little less cruelty. To give ourselves the patience we readily give someone else. To acknowledge our failures without believing they define us. To receive forgiveness instead of continually punishing ourselves for something God has already forgiven. And something beautiful begins to happen. THE LOVE WE RECEIVE FROM GOD BEGINS TO CHANGE THE LOVE WE GIVE TO OTHERS. We become more patient because we have experienced His patience. More forgiving because we know what it means to be forgiven.

THE REFLECTION IS NO LONGER ME As one looks in the mirror, I cast my gaze towards the surface of the water, looking for the reflection I long to see. The reflection I seek it is no longer me. I search to seek, in hopes that I find the reflection of You in the waves of my mind. Your image is the face that I long to see, the proof of Your life dwelling in me. The light of Your love breaking through, showing me that I belong to You. As I look deeper, the ripples move to reveal what the eyes just cannot see the life of You now dwelling in me. And search as I might, it is now hard to find traces of the me that I have left behind. Your work has brought changes in me, changes that only You can see. As I walk in Your way, I begin to see the reflection that looks back is no longer me.