How I’m currently coming to terms with the insufficiency of this brief, temporary lifetime.

 

I grew up in the “Word of Faith” movement (a.k.a. “Prosperity Gospel” churches). In these circles, I was trained to expect God to show up in miraculous ways. I saw countless people supernaturally healed of issues that ailed them. I witnessed the power of God at work. I heard the most incredible testimonies, more times than I can count. Many of these stories hit very close to home, too. I watched people I knew experience profound and dramatic breakthroughs.

Unfortunately, I was also taught (implicitly, and sometimes explicitly) to ignore the facts when a miracle did not occur. I was discouraged from naming any ongoing difficulties or trying to process them aloud. There was no room in our theology for facing and enduring a situation that God could later relieve us from. Toxic positivity and spiritual bypassing abounded.

For example, people at one church in the early 2000s would sometimes ask me how I was feeling. If I was sick, I might say something like, “Well, praise God, I’m on my way to getting better!” The response I often got was, “No, you are completely better, in Jesus’ name!” I was left asking (in my head, of course), “Why did you even ask how I was in the first place if you didn’t want an honest answer?”

All of this set the table for me to really struggle with naming my sexual orientation. Same-sex attraction was seen as a terrible disease or curse. It couldn’t possibly be something a Spirit-filled Christian would admit to experiencing. As a result, I didn’t come to terms with the fact that I am gay until I was late in my 20s. Even after dozens of unsuccessful attempts to undergo inner healing and deliverance (for the purpose of orientation change), making peace with my reality was a very hard process. It was a pill I couldn’t swallow until life circumstances nearly forced my hand.

Struggling to Give Up My Idealism

Even after naming my orientation, getting exposed to other theological frameworks, and eventually coming out of the closet, I’ve continued to struggle with the disappointment of failed expectations. I’ve often asked myself a lot of questions:

• If God is as good as I know Him to be, why hasn’t He helped me figure out how to more consistently thrive in every season just yet? 
• Why have so many friends abandoned me, time and time again? 
• Why do I continue to wrestle with so much insecurity? 
• Why is my body weak and frail, still carrying the pain of my past (even after years of prayer and therapy)? 
• Why does it often require courage just to get out of bed and face another day? 
• Will I ever be able to life-hack my way to a more impressive existence?

I’m aware that the messages ingrained in me during my youth are still influencing me. On the positive side, I believe God cares deeply about me and my circumstances. I know He gives me agency to fight for a better future for myself. I believe He is present and active, tending to me and not tormenting me. And I know wild and wondrous surprises are waiting for me in every season I step into.

On the downside, I keep waiting for life to be a smooth ride. I keep feeling a pressure to get my ducks in a row and somehow actualize radical wholeness. I’ve imbibed the message that if I just do xyz—whatever preachers have told me to do in the last 10,000 sermons I’ve heard—I’ll have a testimony to tell that will at last make others around me want to yield their lives to the Lordship of Christ. I will be a model citizen, proving that it is possible to be exceptionally confident and content as a celibate queer Christian.

More times than I can count, though, I’ve come up against a wall. I thought I was making big strides forward, only to have everything hit the fan. I’ve faced pain and heartache that seemed impossible to get through. I’ve experienced defeating losses. Though God has shown up for me in tangible ways, always revealing His loyal support, I’ve still been at the end of my rope, seeing no clear way forward.

On my worst days I may think to myself, “Is this all life is—an endless series of failures and letdowns, with a few nice memories interspersed?”

Fixing Our Hope on Christ’s Coming

Lately, I’ve been returning a lot to 1 Corinthians 15. It’s one of Paul’s most powerful explanations of the Gospel and its implications. Here, he doesn’t talk so much about salvation just for our souls, but for our physical bodies. He explains that we will all undergo an actual resurrection, just like Jesus, when He returns and fully enforces the victory of His Cross. Death itself will become a thing of the past. And as Paul articulates this message, he says in verse 18, “If we have put our hope in Christ for this life only, we should be pitied more than anyone.” 

In other words, if this life is all we have, we are totally wasting our time trying to follow Jesus through so much hardship. But a major part of the Good News is, we don’t only have one short, mortal life to live…

The writers of the New Testament speak of a coming day when we will no longer experience marginalization or rejection. There will be no unjust systems that we fight tirelessly to reform or undo. Loneliness will be forgotten. We will walk in the new Jerusalem with bodies that never tire. Every relationship will be healthy. Life will be free of anxiety, depression, addiction and unnecessary tension. As John talks about in Revelation 20-22, Heaven and Earth will be one—in harmony and alignment, forever.

I find that I need to remind myself of this. I want to trust God to be made well, as much as possible, on this side of eternity. I want to work to reconcile with people who matter to me. I want to learn, grow and develop wisdom—breaking patterns that I have fallen into for far too long. And I want to build the kind of spiritual family that outlives me, richly blessing generations to come. 

But if I run out of time, and if it always seems like my loftiest goals are still unfulfilled pipe dreams, I can find consolation in the fact that this is not the end. This is all just practice and preparation. There is an eternity of embodied life ahead of me, following the day of our Lord’s glorious appearing (John 6:40, Romans 6:5, Ephesians 2:6-7, 2 Tim. 4:8).

Looking Beyond to What Lies Ahead

Paul closes out 1 Corinthians 15 by encouraging our wearied, battle-worn hearts. Knowing we will share in Christ’s resurrection soon enough, He reminds us to never stop investing in a better tomorrow. “Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters,” he says, “be steadfast, immovable, always excelling in the Lord’s work, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.” 

Could all of this be true? Could it actually be that all things (including our decaying flesh itself) will eventually end up completely, visibly restored (Acts 3:21)? That we don’t have to reach some great height of achievement in this brief lifetime in order to really live a life that counts? That Jesus Himself will eventually resolve everything that remains undone in our current age of history? And that somehow, we might look back on our worst trials and say they were… worthwhile?

Lord, may we catch a fresh glimpse of the future that awaits us beyond the grave. And may we trust that when all is said and done, every ounce of our obedience and trust will be honored on that day. 

Let our hearts agree with you that this is really only the beginning. We will see all Your promises proven true, with our very own eyes. 

We confess with Your historic Church, “We look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come.”

And we will happily give You all the credit for the redemption that unfolds. Amen.