by Lynne Rienstra
I was at a conference when I received the call from my radiologist: “Mrs. Rienstra, your tests reveal that you have breast cancer.” There it was. My name being used in the same sentence as the “C” word. A chill coursed through me, along with these questions: “God, are you there? Are you hearing this? ”
Fast forward six weeks. As my husband was driving me home from surgery that removed the cancer, a car ran a stop sign and slammed into us, right in front of where I was sitting. As I lay in the back of an ambulance on my way to another hospital, the questions came: “God, is this really happening? Are you still in control?”
Crisis. It’s the gift none of us wants. Because when it comes, it broadsides us. It reminds us that in spite of our best efforts, we are ultimately out of control. And it brings to the surface the question many of us feel, but don’t always express: “God, do you really see or care about me?”
The God Who Sees Us in Crisis
It was an Egyptian woman, Hagar, who first experienced Jehovah as El Roi, “the God who sees me” (Genesis 16:13, NIV). Perhaps in your current situation, you need to know God sees you. You need to feel His compassion.
It was the same for Mary and Martha of Bethany (John 11:1-44). When crisis hit their family, they never dreamed that embedded in the sickness of their brother Lazarus was the opportunity to experience Jesus as the One who both saw them and cared about them—deeply.
The sisters knew two things: Jesus loved them and their brother (vs. 3, 5), and Jesus had the power to heal. So when their brother Lazarus fell ill, they did what any of us would have done. They asked Jesus for help, expecting Him to come and save the day.
Only He didn’t. One day passed, and Lazarus worsened. Another day passed, and their worst fears were realized. Lazarus died. Lazarus was buried. And still no sign of Jesus.
Had I been in their shoes, I would have felt unseen and forgotten. Yeah, and more than a little angry.
When Jesus finally did come, Martha ran out to meet Him, saying, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died” (vs. 21). With Lazarus’ body decaying in a nearby tomb, Jesus made the stunning revelation that He is the “resurrection and the life” (vs. 25). In Jesus’ response, it’s as if He was saying, “I see you, Martha. I see the crack in your heart. The hole in your life. But death isn’t going to have the final word here. I am, because I am the resurrection and the life.”
Let’s also consider Mary, still back at the house, suffering in deep grief. This is the Mary whom Jesus had invited to sit at His feet. She knew Jesus loved her and her brother. But the crisis of Lazarus’ death may have caused her to wonder (as we often do in our own crises): “Why didn’t Jesus come? I thought I knew Him. He must not care about me after all.”
When Martha, fresh from her encounter with Jesus, returned to the house to tell her sister, “The Teacher is here and is calling for you” (vs. 28), Mary ran out to meet Jesus and fell at His feet.
Crisis Reveals God’s Heart for Us
Can you see Mary in that moment? Not only heartbroken over the loss of her brother, she was also likely struggling to trust that Jesus saw or cared about her.
But she was not the only heartbroken one. Scripture pulls back the curtain on the depth of Jesus’ compassion for our suffering in verse 33: “When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled.”
As Mary fell at His feet, her tears were met with His. Scripture simply tells us, “Jesus wept” (vs. 35).
Don’t miss this. Jesus knew that He was about to call Lazarus out of the tomb—offering irrefutable proof of His claim to be the “resurrection and the life.” And yet He entered fully into the depth of grief caused by His friend Lazarus’ death.
Sister, I don’t know what situation you are facing right now. A broken marriage? A financial crisis? Children who have walked away from God? A life-threatening illness? All these and more can cause us to wonder if God actually cares about us. Let this portrait of Jesus as the God who not only sees our suffering, but also enters into it, bring you both comfort and hope.
The Gift of Crisis
This is the same Jesus who entered into my crisis when I knew I was in a battle for my life. Cancer gave me the gift of facing my mortality. It strengthened my footing on the Rock of my Salvation, who on the cross has already dealt definitively with the greatest danger I face: eternity apart from holy God. Jesus Christ reminded me that I am His, and He is mine, now and forever.
Through His Holy Spirit, Jesus was also right there with my husband and me as our car was totaled and we were battered. The long process of healing from cancer surgery and the effects of the accident became a portal for me to experience “the shelter of the Most High” (Psalm 91:1).
Jesus came for Mary and Martha and Lazarus. He saw them and had compassion on them. He cared deeply about them in their crisis.
As He did for me.
And as He does for you, sister, in the crisis you now face.
What if the deepest desire of your heart (to be seen and deeply cared about) turned out to be what God most longs to give you? What if your crisis turned out to be the gift through which you receive it?
Lynne Rienstra is a recovering Pharisee and spiritual orphan. She is a pastor’s wife, a mom and GiGi. She also serves Samaritan’s Purse as a regional director and has met women in crisis across the globe. Her first book, Sacred Refuge: Finding Unexpected Shelter in Your Crisis, released October 15 with Kregel Publications. You can connect with her speaking ministry at LynneRienstra.com.
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