Liz Schauer

It’s never a good sign when a friend texts you saying, “I was reading the book of Job and it reminded me of your life right now.” Nobody wants to hear that. Sure, there’s the underlying you’re displaying faith and trust in God during a hard season compliment, but the preceding it seems like you are losing everything just plain stinks. We want lives of favor and blessing, lives where God gives and never takes away, where we don’t have to face our own brokenness or this broken world and the ways we so desperately need to be healed. I don’t want to be sad, I don’t want to cry, I don’t want to have to ask for grace, I don’t want to plead with Jesus to help me catch a break, but that is where I am at.

To be honest, I have stayed away from the book of Job over the last few weeks. I know the story, I know his response, and those lessons are more real in my life than I would wish them to be. I’ve lost relationships, I’ve lost my wallet and all the money in it, I’ve seen moments intended for good turn out bad, I’ve spilled coffee on my clothes going to work, I’ve gotten my car stuck, I have been reamed out by parents at work, and most recently, I’ve lost a whole bunch of clothes due to one pair or maroon pants that were the wash. At this point, it’s comical and I don’t know what else to do but laugh.

On Friday night, I took a break from everything. The plan was to drink some wine and watch some movies and fall asleep early and not speak or think or process. When I got home, I decided that I should spend some time with Jesus first. I played the guitar, listened to worship music, read Scripture, read an incredible book by Henri Nouwen, and the song It is Well by Bethel ended up on repeat. That song is special to me – it is the song my dear friend Laurie has claimed as her anthem as she battles cancer – but I am realizing that it needs to be my anthem too. One line repeats, “Through it all, through it all, my eyes are on you. Through it all, through it all, it is well.” Slowly that became my prayer and strangely the confidence in my spirit.

Too often I focus on the ways that I am not a good enough Christian. I don’t read my bible every day, I should pray more, I don’t call the girls I mentor enough, sometimes I’m mean. Through losing a lot of things, God has been showing me the foundation he has been building year after year after year. When I feel like I should be more upset, I find that material things actually don’t mean as much as I would expect. When I find myself crying, I don’t feel the need to apologize or feel like a burden. When I declare that it is well, I wholeheartedly believe it because what I am experiencing now is part of redemption.

Going through a season of loss is hard, I don’t wish it on anyone, but God is so incredibly faithful. Years of his patience, kindness, and grace have brought me to a place of open-handedness, and I never thought I would be here. It has always been okay and it will always be okay because of who Jesus is. It has nothing to do with how faithful I have been, but how faithful he has been (you really don’t want to know how bad I am at being a Christian). Never once did Jesus say that our lives would be filled with good luck and material blessings – he preached quite the opposite actually. He said that his followers would have to give up everything and that they would face persecution, but he promised the greatest gift in return: His presence.

If it takes losing a lot of money and a lot of things and a lot of moments to open my hands more, so be it, because through it all, it really is well. As I sat alone on Friday night enjoying some long-awaited down time, I felt God continuing to impress on my heart that Jesus is worthy of all glory, honor, and praise even when circumstances say otherwise. I am, and we are, part of a larger story that has less to do with the things we gain or lose and more to do with the worth of Jesus in a world of things that mean less than we think. Two hundred years from now, heck even twenty years from now, losing my wallet will mean nothing, but Jesus still will, and that is enough for me to find joy in losing…but I really do hope that some good luck comes my way in the coming days.