Living in Florida, we have become accustomed to the annual hurricane season. It’s a part of life here, and we’ve learned to prepare for the worst while hoping for the best. When a storm is on the horizon, we dutifully pull out our survival kit, ensuring we have all the essentials just in case we need them. Before our children were born, my wife and I weathered a category 2 storm, with maximum wind speeds reaching a jaring 110mph. The storm hit in the dead of night, and there were moments when we genuinely feared the roof would be ripped right off our house. It was an emotional roller coaster, a tumultuous ride filled with fear, anxiety, stress, relief, joy, and finally, peace. Hurricanes come in varying degrees of strength, from category one (75-95 mph wind speed) to the catastrophic category 5 (157 mph+). And so it is with the storms of life; they too come in different intensities, testing our resilience and faith. But through it all, God has promised us:
Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord your God (Isaiah 43:2 & 3, NIV).
In Part One, I shared the internal battle I faced, the nagging question of whether all the hardships and trials my family and I were enduring were a form of divine punishment. I wrestled with the idea that perhaps I had misunderstood God’s character. Those voices in my head, the ones telling me that God was punishing me, though starting as a whisper had grown louder and more insistent as our circumstances worsened. The result was an overwhelming sense of guilt that threatened to crush me. Once guilt has you on the ground, it invites shame to join in, a vicious tag-team of self-hatred at my expense. I prayed fervently, asking God if he was indeed punishing me, and, if I had somehow missed something crucial about his character, that he would please show me.
In that dark time, I finally made the conscious choice to place myself in His hands, trusting his guidance. As I prayed, a thought came into my mind, loud and clear, in the form of a question: How do you see me? I responded without hesitation, "I see you as a God of love; you are merciful, gracious, longsuffering, willing to forgive, and to restore. Your love is never failing and is unconditional." But the thought persisted: How do you see me? I replied, “God, you are love, but if I have missed something, please show it to me.” I began to mentally traverse the Bible from Genesis to Revelation, examining every story and promise of God. In the end, my belief in God's radical goodness was reinforced: God is Love.
During this time, a dear friend encouraged me to read the autobiography of George Müller. Two things in particular stood out to me from his book. First, he spoke about meditating on the Word of God. I understand meditation to be similar to the process of rumination. Just as cows, sheep and other ruminants chew their food, swallow it, bring it back up, and chew it again to extract maximum nutrition, I began to meditate on the beauty of God’s character. As I ruminated on His goodness, I noticed a glimmer of hope springing up in my heart. The second thing that struck me as I continued reading was a powerful quote from Mueller:
Let not the consciousness of your entire unworthiness keep you, dear reader, from believing what God has said concerning you (George Müller, The Life of Trust, pg. 236).
The timing of this message was perfect for me. It addressed the very barrier I had been struggling with; guilt and shame were hindering me from accepting what God was saying to me, from claiming His promises as my own. It was as if these feelings had formed an impenetrable wall around my heart, one that even God could not breach.
When I found myself in the depths of that valley, utterly beaten down and devoid of strength, I resorted to playing Bible audio on my phone throughout the night, so that when I woke, I would hear the word of God. I tried sleeping aids and exercise; I was making an effort, but the voices in my head were too strong, and I felt helpless. People often talk about hitting rock bottom, but for me, it felt like there was no bottom to be found. It was then that I felt pressed upon me the realization that I did have a weapon to fight with, and that was the power of choice. God could not exercise it for me; it was up to me to wield it. When God says, “I have loved you with everlasting love,” I am left with choosing to accept that love as my own. Despite having been a Pastor for thirty years and teaching the Bible regularly, I had to wrestle with a simple, yet profound question: Had I truly allowed myself to be loved by God? If I was still allowing guilt to grip me, still feeling unworthy of His love, then the answer was no.
So, I began to pray:
Lord, I choose to accept the fact that I am fully known and loved by you. I choose not to allow the guilt and shame I am feeling to hinder me from being loved by you. I choose to accept as true all of your promises, too.
I came to realize that it was not the nails in Jesus' hands and feet, nor the brutal beating from the Roman soldiers that took his life: it was the weight of the guilt of the entire human race that he had taken upon himself. He died so that I might live free, but it is up to me—to us—to accept and embrace that freedom. In my darkness, I had to engage in some deep self-reflection, asking myself if I had truly accepted what God was offering me personally, if I had fully embraced it.
As I meditated on the character of God and exercised the power of choice, hope continued to well up in my heart, and I could feel my strength returning. I sensed life flowing back into me. The battle was still raging, but now the voice of God, his promises, was growing louder, while the negative voices were fading into the background. But there was something else I discovered about accepting what God was saying to me in His word.
I began to notice my negative self-talk. We are largely shaped by our thoughts. As the saying goes, Sow a thought, reap an action; sow an action, reap a habit; sow a habit, reap a character; sow character, reap a destiny. It became crystal clear to me that my thinking habits were not aligning with God’s word or how he thought of me. I was believing in God but living like he did not exist. So, I began to work on areas of my thinking that were not in harmony with God. This was a process. Changing decades-old thought patterns requires effort and the consistent exercise of the power of choice. I had to choose not to think in those old ways anymore and instead embrace what God was saying in his word.
This realization was a game-changer.
As day-to-day life went on, things started to look up. However, when I would wake up at night, my thoughts often began to run in a negative direction. I believe the devil was trying to pull me back down. In those moments, I would begin to apply the principles I had learned: see the beauty of God’s character, meditate on what I see, and accept it as my own. But then came the final step. Even though I was not out of the valley yet, I had to choose to rest in God’s love for me. So when those negative thoughts would start to attack me again, I prayed, “Lord, I choose to rest in your love for me.” As a result, I sensed a peace washing over me, and I felt as if endorphins were being released in my body. For the first time in months, I was able to fall back asleep at night: My strength was returning mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually. God was giving me the victory. From then on, I have practiced and continue to practice the four principles: See God’s beauty, meditate on what you see, accept it as your own, and rest in God’s love.
When the Vietnam War ended and the planes landed with the returning soldiers, their families waited anxiously behind a barrier. As one soldier walked down the stairs of the plane, his teenage daughter spotted him and raced past the barrier, running towards her father. He saw her and opened his arms wide. As she drew near, she leaped into the air, diving into her father’s embrace. At that precise moment, a photographer captured the scene. The next day, that picture graced the front page of all major newspapers. Your heavenly Father says,
I have loved you with an everlasting love; therefore, with lovingkindness I have drawn you (Jeremiah 31:3, NKJV).
Do you see his heart for you? Do you hear him calling you? Will you accept his love for you? Will you choose, like the girl, to leap into the wide, welcoming arms of your Heavenly Father?
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