BIG BROWN VAN

One year, when I was six or seven, my family went to the circus. Sitting in our seats, my mom said something I had never heard before. She pointed to the Ringmaster and called him a "redhead." Redhead? I questioned for clarification. She explained that the Ringmaster had red hair. I was surprised at this possibility. I knew my colors and looked expecting to be astonished by a red-haired man. I was disappointed. He didn't have red hair, at least not the red I was familiar with. I thought I'd see a fire engine red-haired man, not the brownish-orange color I saw before me. The circus disappointed a small boy that day.

Once, as a child, my mom took me to a store where they sold low-priced items made in China. A toy belt caught my attention. The belt had a toggle switch on the buckle, and on the box was written "Invisible Belt.” I was fascinated to see a device that could make me invisible. But I'm almost positive this technology isn't legit. If it were real, we would have heard of it by now, and I'm sure it wouldn't be available for kids to buy in a "Made in China" store. I picture little Israel wearing this belt, thinking no one could see him, sneaking to grab an extra cookie in broad daylight - Busted. Looking back, I’m almost positive that this belt would have been a huge disappointment.

One day when I was young, we visited one of my uncles. Uncle Adolf was an eccentric character with a weird voice, at least in little Israel's opinion. He sounded like a Mexican Looney Toons character. A mix of "Cheech and Chong" and Sylvester the Cat, the cartoon character with the catchphrase: "Sufferin' Succotash!" That day Uncle Adolf told me he had a Knight Rider car. I didn't believe him. He said it was true, and if I went to the driveway, I'd see his "talking car." I was tremendously skeptical, but I went. 

Walking to the driveway, I envisioned the cool shiny sports car from the Knight Rider TV show. But when I arrived, I saw Uncle Adolf's big boxy brown van. I was disappointed. Then the van spoke to me with Uncle Adolf's distinct voice. Uncle Adolph was into CB radios, which he used to talk to me, from his house, through his frumpy brown van. His "Knight Rider vehicle" knew me by name. And it proceeded to have a conversation with me. I was disappointed. I expected "The Hoff" (David Hasselhauf, the Knight Rider actor), but I got “A-dolf” (the brown man's "Hoff," I guess. Or maybe Adolf is the budget "Hoff").

Disappointment is part of life. Growing up in church, I heard amazing stories about a God without limitations. And that made me feel safe. I was okay because the limitless God loved me. It's like the safety net at the circus. I could live by faith because God was with me. Then one day, I felt like the safety net had been swiped out from under me. I had a stroke while preaching God’s Word. Disappointment is an understatement. I've prayed angry prayers since that day. Stuff like, "Where were You, God? Was the God who never sleeps caught napping? Did I slip through Your fingers?" I tend to pray with sarcasm when I'm angry. 

After my stroke, I had hope that God would heal me. I'd start each day with a quick body check to see if something in my body would work again. Did my arm feel different? Did my leg feel different? Nope. No change. All I had was a BIG BROWN VAN of disappointment.

The next day I prayed and hoped in the limitless God. I'd do another body check. Still not there. Another BIG BROWN VAN day. Disappointing.

Maybe I was doing something wrong. I sought God through prayer and Bible reading. One verse that kept showing up was Psalm 130:5. When a verse continuously shows up, I tend to listen and ask, "God, are you saying something?"

I wait for the Lord, I expectantly wait, 

and in His word do I hope. Psalms 130:5 (AMP).

Keywords that have stayed with me through this journey are in this verse: WAIT and HOPE. Okay, Psalm 130:5, I'm picking up what you're putting down and this new phrase: "expectantly wait."

So I started the next day with prayer, hope, and expectantly waiting. BIG BROWN VAN again, disappointing. It has been four years of BIG BROWN VANS.

My added problem is that, just like Uncle Adolf's van, my BIG BROWN VANS know me by name and talk to me, saying things like:

"Israel, where's your God?"

"Israel, your God isn't strong enough."

"Israel, God helps other people, but not you."

"Israel, disabled people don't walk again. Just accept it. You're done!"

I'm tired of the BIG BROWN VANS of disappointment.

I need to pause here to share my blog writing journey: I begin with stories, figure out the theme, and always struggle right about here: How do I end this? I couldn’t sleep last night. And really leaned into these feelings and discovered something. I’m afraid of the ending. I’m scared of admitting some things. Early this morning, I decided to pause here and share my struggle. All this disappointment in God has to end with a conclusion. I’m afraid of what that is. So I’ll do what I do well: Distract you with a story:

Enid, my older sister, and I would watch The Wizard of Oz on TV every year. Little Israel always found a part of this movie extremely dark, scary, and bothersome. Dorthy wants to get back home. The Scarecrow wants a brain. The Tin Man needs a heart. The Cowardly Lion wants courage, and the movie is about them seeking help from the Wonderful Wizard of Oz. They sing and dance while the movie points to the moment they reach the Wizard for help. He’s intimidating. Toto, Dorthy’s dog, gets away from her and finds a man behind a curtain pulling levers and dials, making the Wizard work. It turns out the Wizard is a fraud. This bothered me. My greatest fear is to reach the end of this journey and find no one there to help. What do I do with all my disappointment? Is all this disappointment pointing to the fact that heaven is empty? That no one is there? This, by far, is my greatest fear. 

All our marriage Sarah and I have been driven by this theme: Trust God. As pastors, we experienced dark days. During one extremely challenging year, Sarah wrote a simple song for us. She sang it. We hugged and cried. I think the message of the song can be perfectly summed up in two verses from Proverbs 3:

 

Trust in the Lord with all your heart

    and lean not on your own understanding;

in all your ways submit to him,

    and he will make your paths straight. Proverbs 3:5-6 (NIV)

Our ministry problems are nothing compared to what we’ve faced following my stroke. I’ve been extremely stubborn in my hope in God, and we've maintained our trust in Him. 

I’ve been intentional about guarding my thoughts. I’m a thinker, and I reason out everything. This is dangerous, like a lamb slowly nibbling away from the shepherd. I must be careful of what I think about and what conclusions I come to.

As proverbs put it: lean not on your own understanding. My left leg isn’t trustworthy. If I lean too much on it, I’m going down. My own understanding is a lot like that.

Every unpleasant ministry experience we survived is a reminder of God’s faithfulness. Part of guarding my mind is remembering every time God did. Did what? Every time He made a way for us. There are plenty of memories of those moments. If He did it then, why not now? He’s trustworthy. Living consistently disappointed in God feels wrong. So I push forward in trust, remembering the many times God acted.

I read Bible stories wondering how many of these people knew they were in the middle of a great God story: Daniel survived the lion’s den. Peter walked on water. David took out the giant. We know how these stories end, but did they know God would pull through? What if Sarah and I are just in the middle of a great God story? And what if you are too?