A man was shipwrecked on an island, desperate and alone. He spent his days struggling to survive, gathering branches to build himself shelter and searching for food.
At night, he’d collapse in exhaustion by the small fire he was finally able to start and pray that God would rescue him.
Months went by.
One day, still clinging to hope, the man left his shelter to find food, but when he returned, everything he’d struggled to build was engulfed in flames. His eyes burned with tears as he watched the billows of smoke.
Dropping to his knees, he wept, “God! How could you let this happen when I begged you for help?”
His energy spent, the man fell into a deep sleep, only to be awakened the next morning by the sound of voices on the beach. He looked up and saw a man dressed in a ship captain’s uniform with several men standing beside him.
The shipwrecked man sobbed with joy and asked, “How did you find me?”
The captain answered, “We saw the smoke signals you sent up.”
Sometimes life looks really messed up, and it’s hard to see any rhyme or reason as to why. But there must be. Lately I’ve wondered if the secret to contentment is really about perspective
I was reminded of this as I watched a debate between Christian apologist William Lane Craig and atheist philosopher Christopher Hitchens. Both men, brilliant thinkers, saw life so completely differently.
The first looked at the cosmos and saw evidence of God’s fine-tuning, design, and beauty. The other saw the destruction of shooting stars, collapsed suns, and failed galaxies.
The first saw evidence of God’s grace and restoration in the midst of mankind’s faulty choices. The other said if there is a creator, he appears to be capricious, cruel, and incompetent.
How can two people look at the same evidence and come to such different conclusions? Is it disposition? Is it personal experience? Is it a choice?
Two of the women I admire most, both in their 50s, have lived with huge obstacles since their early 20s.
One discovered she had Type 1 diabetes when she was studying abroad, dragging herself through the streets of London while trying to keep up with her classmates. The other was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis after she stood up from the couch and realized her legs wouldn’t work.
These women are greeted by limitations every morning, yet while I’m busy complaining about pulled muscles, bad haircuts, or high gas prices, they seem to measure out their complaints judiciously. It's like they decide which ones are really worth their time and effort.
From most people’s perspectives, these women should be ticked off at God and incredibly discontent. But instead, they seem to know He sees their smoke signals and sends a rescue ship daily.
“This is what I do,” God says to us.
“For my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9).
