When Your World has Shifted; Is Restoration Possible?

I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten, the hopper, the destroyer, and the cutter, and the great army, which I sent among you.
You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied, and praise the name of the LORD your God, who has dealt wondrously with you.
Joel 2:25-26

Like a student waiting out a tornado warning in the dark hallway of a school building, there are times when it is safer to pull in tight, cover your head with your own hands, and be still while the ties that bind your world snap one at a time. Life is not very tidy. And quite honestly, snapping ties and shifting earth leave behind broken pieces.

“Pick up the pieces,” that’s what they say.

“It’s a matter of perspective,” that’s what they say.

“It will all work out”, that’s what they say.

“Pray,” that’s what they say.

Cheap words and good intentions blister hearts that are exposed wide to the elements.

You would scream, but anxiety has preemptively stolen the air from your lungs. An exposed heart and deflated lungs, an entire system now incapacitated.

“Pick up the pieces,” if only the pieces self-identified as “worth saving” or “needing tossed”. And if only your heart were not attached to both.

“It’s a matter of perspective,” if you could only see past the tumbling moment of now.

“It will all work out,” how and when questions shoot like stainless steel marbles in a pinball machine.

“Pray,” but there are no words, and who hears them anyway?

I have stood here, or kneeled here, in the place of shifting earth, head covered with my hands. I have born the weight of shifting someone else’s world, and the weightless free fall of someone shifting mine. I have incurred shifting because of my own choices and absorbed a shifting because it was just my turn. Life is not very tidy.

We all get a turn at this, eventually, shifting earth leaving behind broken pieces. It’s a universal equalizer, a character builder, a priority sorter, a prompt for a great story. It’s where we look for solid ground, learn what we are made of, and what we will endure for rebuilding.

Our culture so often paints the story as a mural, with broad brush strokes and inspirational highlights, comebacks and pointed determination. A happily ever after that impacts every ticket holder in the movie house to go on to do great things. In reality, it is much more like an old-fashioned cartoon that is played out one frame at a time, knees bloodied, life on repeat, breathing through each page a miracle onto itself. The moments in between are long and arduous, painful and disorienting. No one really pays attention let alone sits down to watch. If only you were the ticket holder instead of the main event.

Joseph knew this story, as did Moses. David knew this story, the David whose throne led to the Christ. Mary knew it. Peter knew it, the Peter who Christ called to build His church.

Joseph was sailing through his best life as the favorite son of a wealthy father when his older brothers decided they’d had enough of the spoiled brat and sold him into slavery. Once the favorite, now a slave.

Moses was the adopted Hebrew boy living the life of an Egyptian prince when he ran into a mess between another Hebrew and an Egyptian. Once a prince, now an outlaw wanted for murder.

Mary, the young Hebrew girl was planning a wedding when her life unraveled at the news she was expecting an unexpected child. Once a wedding planner, now encountering a hushed pregnancy.

Peter was standing ready to take on the world for his King, and just a few hours later repeatedly denies his friendship with said King. Once an advocate, now an adversary.

Each of these men and Mary knew restoration, restoration beyond their imagination, beyond their hope. Purpose in their shifting world beyond their understanding.

A King hanging bound to a tree, an earth that cracked open and a temple curtain torn in two. Dead in a tomb, until He wasn’t. A heart healed and lungs that filled with life breath. Once a sacrifice and now a Savior.

Healing happens. Restoration happens. It hurts like bloody hell, but a Savior made it possible. And possible is not impossible. What looks like the end is a broken beginning. The promise of broken things is that they can be rearranged differently, that those for keeping can be kept and those that need tossing can be tossed. Something new can be built from something busted.

But this isn’t where you are at, and this isn’t what you see, or feel, or know. Busted is what you’ve got and the earth has barely stopped shifting and your feet aren’t so sure there is stable ground on which to stand.

If you can’t stand, kneel.

If you can’t pick up the pieces, surrender them.

If you can’t change your perspective, take in only this moment.

If you can’t will yourself to work it out, will yourself to the One who can.

If you can’t pray, sit silent. He intercedes for you, His Spirit groans for you before the throne.

There is a story in the book of Mark (chapter 9) about a man whose son was plagued by demons. Demons that had threatened the life of the boy since childhood. The man brings his son to Jesus and asks, “If you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us”. Jesus replies, “If you can! All things are possible for the one who believes.” The gospel writer gives us a treasure in the next line from the father, “I believe; help my unbelief!”

Jesus heals his son.

Faith enough to seek out Jesus, faith enough to want to believe someone he doesn’t know. Faith enough for Jesus to heal the son.

Cheap words and good intentions blister hearts that are exposed wide to the elements.

But a word from Jesus changes everything.

And after you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to His eternal glory in Christ, will Himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.
1 Peter 5:10