I’m praying today for a friend who’s dealing with a serious health issue. He’s one of the strongest, godliest believers I have ever met, and I find myself raising the “why” question others have so often raised. When I struggle this way, though, I almost always remember this illustration that gives me comfort. I can’t remember its source, but I certainly remember its point.
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Imagine a large wall painting of a beautiful ship streaming almost silently across the ocean. From a distance, its cabins are gleaming white and its hull piercingly black against the horizon of a blue sky. The sun’s rays seem to bounce off the ship and disappear deeply into the ocean at the same time. Even the few faint clouds in the sky appear to be in just the right place.
The whole painting is calm . . . peaceful . . . inviting, even. You just want to be there.
But, walk up to the painting. Get so close to it that you bury your nose in the hull of the ship – so close to it, in fact, that all you can see is a portion of the hull. There are multiple other colors and images in the painting, but you can’t see them from your position. All you can see is black—not how the black fits into the painting.
That’s often what happens when life makes little sense to us: we’re so close to the situation that it’s hard to see anything other than the struggle. We see the “black,” but we can’t see how that same struggle fits into the bigger picture. We can’t see the overall beauty because we’re too close to the picture.
Our God, on the other hand, sees the big picture and is intimately involved in the situation. He’s close at hand, and He’s sovereignly in control. He knows how He will use the struggle to conform us to the image of his Son. He sees how the black of the hull makes the big picture that much more beautiful.
I don’t know about you, but I need to remember that truth. If you’re in one of those struggles today, I hope this post encourages you.
