We Can't All Be The Hero

The word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord: “Arise, and go down to the potter's house, and there I will let you hear my words.” So I went down to the potter's house, and there he was working at his wheel. And the vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter's hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to do. 

-Jeremiah 18:3-4

I had the pleasure of meeting with our church's newest associate pastor for coffee.  (Funny enough, I've actually known him since 2006, so I've probably known him the longest of anyone at our church.)

He's been great at checking in on how Jenn and I are doing with my cancer diagnosis.  We had a very encouraging conversation.  In particular, one thing he said was extremely thought-provoking.  To paraphrase, he said something along the lines of:

"You know, everyone likes to think of themselves as main characters of the Bible.  We picture ourselves like Job when trials our way.  We picture ourselves as David or Abraham or Paul.  What if that's now the role God is having us play?  What if we're meant to play one of Job's children that were killed when the house collapsed when the great winds came?  Maybe we're the parents or siblings of Israelites that were killed fighting the Philistines.  We can't all be heroes."

It's very tempting to think God's sovereign plan revolves and hinges on us.  I mean, to be fair, each of us are are part of God's glorious plan to seek and save sinners and to bring glory to Himself.  There are probably a near infinite number of possibilities that God could have ordained and orchestrated the past, present, and future events of this world.  I mean, think about it.  God could have had each of us born on the other side of the world, or a thousand years ago, or not at all.  He could have made you a different sex or born to different parents.  Yet, in His omniscience and sovereignty, He decided that the plans He laid out were perfect and would bring Him the most glory.  That God would include us in this divine story is awe-inspiring and humbling.

Yet, not all of us (or even many of us) will play roles like the heroes of our faith played throughout Scripture.  We may not experience supernatural deliverance from trials like Daniel in the lion's den.  We may not get to communicate directly with God like Moses did on Sinai.  Some of us may play the still very important roles of living a faithful, mundane life here in Silicon Valley.  For others of us, God would have us be examples of unwavering faith in the midst of great persecution and loss.

For me, at least at this point in time, all I know is that God has me in the role of young adult with a currently incurable cancer.  While I pray for healing - either through medical advancements or through supernatural means - I am fully aware (and accepting of the fact) that God may not heal me.  And that's okay; God, in His wisdom, has planned this out for me.

It would be easy for people in my situation (and even more in situations that are far more difficult) to question how this is fair.  I'm reminded, however, of Paul's words in Romans 9:20-21.

"But who are you, O man, to answer back to God? Will what is molded say to its molder, “Why have you made me like this?” Has the potter no right over the clay, to make out of the same lump one vessel for honorable use and another for dishonorable use?"

God is the sovereign, all-wise potter; we are but the clay.  As the potter, He gets to decide the purpose for each lump of clay.  We might be tempted to doubt the goodness of the potter when bad things come our way.  However, the potter isn't just a potter; He's our loving, heavenly Father.  Even more than our earthly parents, God knows what's good for us and delights in giving them to us.  It's because of this that we can have the confidence that "God works all things for our good, to them that love God, to them that are called according to His purposes" (Romans 8:28).

Is it a struggle to believe that God is working things for good in the midst of this cancer?  Sometimes.  I know though that I am but a man with finite knowledge.  It may sometimes be hard to see how God is working things for good in the midst of cancer, but I know that God is doing far more than I can see or recognize.  I just merely have to cling to what I know - that God is good and that God loves me.