There are many heartfelt ‘ifs’ in the Bible.
Jacob feared the unknown – he worried ‘if’ his other sons went to Egypt, he’d be left bereft. The sinfully grumpy and hungry Israelites doubted God’s care and cried out, ‘if’ only we had meat to eat. Job, in the middle of intense suffering, poured out his plaintive expression, ‘if’ my anguish could be weighed. There are many other examples besides. ‘Ifs’ come easily to the broken heart.
They are not just in Scripture. Many of us will have spoken one this week. If my spouse could be more understanding; if the church members would see things from my perspective; if my health could just be better; if my boss were a little kinder; if only I’d never met that person; if I just had a baby; if people would believe me; if only that person would repent so I could move on… In times of trial, ifs can flood our mind. They can dominate our every move.
The cries
Ifs are not to be ignored – they have important roles to play. Ifs bring painful pasts to light – they articulate the very real wrongs that we have all endured in this fallen world. Ifs illuminate the present – they show us our hopes, our fears and our shattered dreams. Ifs encourage us to relate: it’s often in the if-moments that we turn to the Lord and those around and pour out our heart in the hope of receiving comfort, affirmation, strength and change. Ifs thrust us into the future: they enable us to imagine life as we would like it to be. In times of trial, ifs can propel us towards the promises of the One who makes all things right. When used as a cry – if God is for us, who can be against us? – it’s a word no believer should be without.
The claims
But there are dangers too. Ifs can be short and subtle deceivers. Ifs can have a subtext that does nothing but destroy. How often do we, subconsciously at least, believe: if God really loved me, He would give me what I want; if God wants my ministry to flourish, He’ll bring change quickly; if the people around me could just be kinder, I would be holy (holier, at least!); if circumstances had been different in the past, then God’s will would be operating in my life now? And, in two quick letters, the ‘if’ quietly leads us away from trust in God’s goodness, sovereignty and care.
Ifs reveal hearts that, despite all the best teaching on offer in the church, still tend to believe that the world revolves around us. We elevate our desires over God’s eternal purposes and assume that if we want something, then what’s best is to have that desire fulfilled. As if God’s eternal redemptive plan has our convenience or ease at its core, we claim to know what is right and good and close our ears to anything that would lead the other way. Ifs erode trust. They can push sanctification away.
The call
So, how do we handle our ifs? By taking an honest look at them – in the company of trusted Christian friends – and honestly assessing what function they hold. Then, without hesitation, we can come to the Lord with our cries, lamenting to the One who loves us most, asking for strength to persevere. And we can fall to our knees, laying our claims at the foot of the cross, asking for God’s sure and certain forgiveness, and in the Spirit’s power, seek to lift our eyes and see that the Lord is enough.
Both lament and confession will help us know, despite what our feelings may say, God’s goodness, love, wisdom and power are not contingent on our circumstances but constant. And that changes how we live – to the core.
