To see in practice the limitations of miraculous deliverances, let’s go straight to the top by observing the eternal Son of God. For our Lord, employing a miracle for his own comfort (Luke 4:2-3) or to confirm God’s love for him (Luke 4:9-12) was a dangerous temptation to be strenuously fought. On very rare occasions, the Almighty opted for miracles to protect Jesus. He warned his parents in supernatural dreams (Matthew 2:13, 19, 22). Jesus just walked through a hostile crowd who were intent on pushing him over a cliff (Luke 4:29-30). That seems like a miracle to me. The time came, however, when the truly powerful, spiritual option was for Jesus not to be miraculously delivered from his enemies, but to endure the cross. So it is for all to whom he says, even in our era, “Whoever wants to come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me,” (Mark 8:34).

Jesus began his ministry with the heavens opening and a voice booming, “You are my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased” (Mark 1:10-11), and it climaxed with him crying, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mark 15:34). He who moved in such power that vast numbers were supernaturally delivered from their afflictions, agonized on the cross while onlookers mocked, “He saved others. He can’t save himself” (Mark 15:31). What achieved the greatest good: healing while people cheered, or hanging helplessly while people booed? Was his greatest triumph when everyone stared in awe at his miracles, or when they looked away because his battered body turned their stomach (cf. Isaiah 53:3)? Who sends all of heaven into rapturous adoration: the great miracle-worker, or the lamb that was slain (Revelation 5:11-12)?

Is the crucified Lord your Leader and Role Model, or have you replaced him with some flawed, filthy rich megastar everyone will have forgotten in a few decades?

“God worked special miracles by the hands of Paul, so that even handkerchiefs or aprons were carried away from his body to the sick, and the diseases departed from them, and the evil spirits went out.” (Acts 19:11-12). Nevertheless, that same powerful God refused to answer the prayers of this same man of God when he pleaded three times to be delivered from “a thorn in the flesh,” even though it was of satanic origin. I originally tried retelling the story in my own words, but I decided I need to quote the Scripture exactly, lest one or two readers find it too unbelievable to be able to take my word for it:

2 Corinthians 12:7-9  . . . that I should not be exalted excessively, a thorn in the flesh was given to me: a messenger of Satan to torment me, that I should not be exalted excessively. Concerning this thing, I begged the Lord three times that it might depart from me. He has said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” . . .

Note how twice it states that the reason was so that Paul would not be “exalted excessively” or, as many versions put it, “conceited.” The possibility of falling into pride put Paul in spiritual danger. The Lord’s way of rescuing Paul was not some spiritual equivalent to psychotherapy, nor instant transformation, but a lingering oppressive situation.

This clashes so strongly with some Christians’ view of God that even though it is in the Bible, it hardly seems biblical to them. Some even think God denying a request could never happen to them. They literally have the arrogance to think they have greater faith than Paul, and understand God better than him.

Had Paul not been an apostle, but a spiritual spoiled brat, he might have brought shame on himself by throwing a temper tantrum, or whining over God not giving him what he wanted. Instead, he was smarter, and responded like spiritual champions do:

2 Corinthians 12:9-10 Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (NIV)

Couldn’t the almighty Lord have supernaturally filled his beloved apostle with instant humility without something so unpleasant that Paul pleaded three times for it to end? And couldn’t he entrust Paul with supernatural power without Paul being plagued by the weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions and difficulties referred to in the above quote?

Let’s pose another question: couldn’t the Almighty zap a baby so that it instantly becomes physically and mentally an adult without the need for learning by experience? What would be the point? If God were a showoff, it might be his opportunity but, despite slanderous misconceptions by the ignorant, our loving Lord is neither egotistical, nor a control freak.

Perhaps the Lord could wave a magic wand, and suddenly, without any change in circumstances or significant effort on our behalf, we could be straitjacketed with humility or patience or self-control, or whatever. There’s a bottomless chasm, however, between what is best, and what an omnipotent God could theoretically do. Even the Lord of glory, “though he was a Son, yet learned obedience by the things which he suffered,” (Hebrews 5:8). So let’s not get dizzy, soaring on flights of fantasy about what God could do. Only the Almighty sees all the complexities and ramifications of what, to us in our ignorance, seem simple matters.

The God of our fantasies might live in a dream world. The God of the Bible, however, is real. As such, he operates in the real world, where the smallest action triggers chain reactions crashing on and on through time, and impacting person after person. Moreover, each person touched is stupendously important to the God who cares about every hair on every head.

There are still more biblical instances of the Lord using oppressive circumstances to develop his loved ones spiritually. In fact, Romans 8:28-29 says God uses all things to make those who love him more like his glorious Son. The range of different things influencing just one individual during an entire lifetime is huge, let alone the mindboggling range when one includes all the different experiences of everyone on this planet. So if the Lord uses not merely the obviously supernatural or spiritual, but all things impacting the lives of Christians to make them more Christlike, we might expect the Bible to provide a highly diverse range of instances of this happening in people’s lives.

This is precisely what it does. Rather than expound on them, I will leave it to you to ponder the deep implications of each of the following Scriptures:

2 Corinthians 1:8-9 We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about the hardships we suffered . . . We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life. Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead. (NIV)

Psalm 119:67, 71 Before I was afflicted, I went astray; but now I observe your word. . . . It is good for me that I have been afflicted, that I may learn your statutes.

Judges 3:1-2 Now these are the nations which the Lord left, to test Israel . . . to teach them war . . .

Deuteronomy 8:15-16 led you through the great and terrible wilderness, with venomous snakes and scorpions, and thirsty ground where there was no water . . . that he might humble you, and that he might prove you, to do you good at your latter end

2 Corinthians 1:3-7 Blessed be the . . . God of all comfort; who comforts us in all our affliction, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, through the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as the sufferings of Christ abound to us, even so our comfort also abounds through Christ. But if we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation. If we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you the patient enduring of the same sufferings which we also suffer. Our hope for you is steadfast, knowing that, since you are partakers of the sufferings, so you are also of the comfort.

We need to burn into our brain that, in addition to Paul’s “thorn,” the first and last of the above Scriptures are from the life of the uniquely anointed apostle in the peak of his ministry. Any Bible-believers thinking themselves beyond God using afflictions to further refine them, has spaghetti for brains. I cite other examples, however, to confirm that it is not only supersaints that God singles out for such attention. What follows is an extreme example in the opposite direction.

“ . . . and you will know that I am the Lord,” says Ezekiel 6:7. The profound revelation came not from what we would normally consider a blessing or deliverance, but what almost everyone would call the opposite. It resulted from them being invaded by a foreign power, many of them being slaughtered and many others taken away as prisoners of war.

From cover to cover, God’s Word keeps affirming that hard times can hit the most godly, faith-filled, Spirit-filled people ever to walk the planet. This case was different. It was God’s response to extreme rebelliousness. For centuries, Israel had repeatedly fallen into idolatry. Nothing the Almighty did to save them from it had worked for long. He had tried every other option over and over, including dire warnings generation after generation. They had forced his hand. History shows, however, that this catastrophe freed them forever from idolatry; achieving for them what every divine victory had failed to do. In that sense, God not delivering them from their enemies proved a greater blessing than anything they had ever before experienced. (This is one of the many Bible truths we prefer to shove out of our minds.)

With a little more thought, I imagine I could find further examples in God’s Word of immense spiritual blessings flowing from apparent disasters, and God not intervening in the way we would expect. Nevertheless, I think just one more example should suffice to confirm that the range of things God can use to make us more godly is near enough to bottomless: Nebuchadnezzar learned humility and the power of God by suffering a bout of insanity. He wandered away from civilization, ate grass, let the dew soak him, and became so unkempt for so long that his hair grew long and matted and his fingernails looked like claws (Daniel 4:27-33). The experience had a profoundly positive spiritual effect on him (Daniel 4:34-37).

Life will remain baffling until we grasp that God regularly hides behind what we could easily dismiss as natural means to achieve spiritual ends, the greatest of which is to make us like Christ.

To see more clearly what steals the peace Christ died for us to enjoy, we have zeroed in on people who feel horrifically guilty, and then fear this means God has not forgiven them, despite having done the little it takes to receive the divine promise of full forgiveness. In contrast to these people, the feelings and fear that hound you might have nothing to do with guilt. You could be feeling lonely or devastatingly empty inside or spiritually weak or inadequate or unfulfilled or physically ugly or that you are a failure, or something entirely different. Since we cannot address every possible feeling at once, however, let’s return to our example of those who feel appallingly guilty, and see what we can learn.

Forgiven Christians who cave into fears that they are unforgiven needlessly lose so much peace. Feelings can grow so intense that they seem highly believable. Nevertheless, it is not feeling horrendously guilty that robs these dear people of peace. Fears overtake them that their deceptively intense feelings of guilt mean that God has not forgiven them. But it is not even fear that plunders their peace. What robs them, is choosing to believe their feelings and fears, rather than stubbornly keep believing in:

* the infinite love of God that drives him to want no one to perish (Scriptures)

* the power of Christ’s sacrifice to forgive

* and the integrity of God to keep his promise to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

Having strong, unpleasant feelings or fear is of no consequence. All that matters is what one chooses to believe. Just as our precious Hero felt agonizingly hungry in the wilderness (Luke 4:2), and that in no way made him a failure or unloved by God, neither does your feeling uncomfortably guilty, or lonely, or inferior, or whatever, make you a failure or unloved by the God of infinite love.

Feelings are just feelings. They are not reality. So don’t believe them. We are called to live by faith, not feelings. And if they are not reality, they are nothing to fear. So don’t fear them. They are nothing but an illusion. To fight them makes no more sense than fighting a dark shadow.

Don’t consider yourself defeated just because unpleasant feelings or fears are present. They are simply a temptation to believe a lie. Think of our Leader when he was tempted. “Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil” (Matthew 4:1). The devil was intensely involved, and yet God was using it as part of his master plan to make Jesus our perfect representative (Hebrews 2:18; 4:15). There was nothing to be ashamed of – for him, nor us – in suffering horrific temptations. So relax. No matter how strong the feelings or fears, they remain just feelings or fears. There’s no need to become a spiritual hypochondriac.

Through no fault of their own, people haunted by an anxiety disorder become addicted to a mistaken belief as to what will deliver the peace they desperately need, and caving in to that belief ends up making peace even more elusive for them. My point, however, is that each of us tends to slip into equally exasperating quicksand.

What we get fixated on, varies greatly from person to person. It might be a special revelation, or a sign from God ‘proving’ that he truly loves you. It might be a never-ending fairy tale romance. It might be more money, or popularity or ‘success’, or better health, or . . .

Its precise nature might vary, but most of us become obsessed with one thing; growing utterly convinced that it, and only it, will deliver the peace we desperately need, and that we can barely live without it. Our tunnel vision becomes so oppressive that we are likely to be bitterly tempted to get infuriated with God for not giving us what we are certain we need; having not the vaguest clue that what we keep angrily pestering God to give us is the very thing that will perpetuate our torment, and that only a sadistic god would grant it.

Here are two eternal truths we should do our utmost never to forget:

Psalm 145:9 The Lord is good to all. His tender mercies are over all his works.

Isaiah 55:9 For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.

(Emphasis mine.)

It seems unbelievable until you spend hours with them, but there are people whose guilt feelings refuse to ease, no matter how many spectacular spiritual experiences they have, and no matter how many powerful Scriptures they are given and how many hours of carefully expounded biblical truth they receive. One of the things making my response to them seem inadequate, however, is a lack of Christian terminology.

Expressed in more spiritual terms, an anxiety disorder is a product of our fallen nature – what the Bible sometimes calls the flesh. Only a small portion of us suffer from this particular manifestation of the flesh – and anxiety disorder. Nevertheless, through our ancestors rejecting God, we have each inherited a fallen side, even though the exact cravings and weaknesses affecting individuals can vary enormously from person to person.

The flesh is typically as troublesome as a pesky fly that keeps annoying us, not just for minutes, but hour after hour, day after day, month after unending month. Having been single most of my life, one of the ways the flesh clawed away at me, year in and year out is something that some people are mercifully free from – a feeling of being a reject and tormented with an interminable, gnawing yearning to be hugged. Just as there is no sin in being troubled by a bothersome fly, or being lumbered with an anxiety disorder, or nearly driven out of one’s mind by loneliness, there is no sin in whatever way the flesh happens to needle you.

Heaven isn’t influenced by whether some manifestations of the flesh are less understood by the general populace, or less accepted in your church. Heaven isn’t embarrassed by your affliction. In fact, heaven could well regard you as a hero, and want to give you a standing ovation for the way you endure it.

There is nothing remotely sinful about being hounded by the flesh. What is sinful, however, is surrendering control to its incessant demands and believing what it screams, rather than submitting to God, and believing in his love and goodness and what he says is true. Or we could turn it into sin by raging against our loving Lord for not magically making our cravings vanish. (Our Lord refused to do that even for himself when, after forty days, he was literally starving in the wilderness.)

People tormented by anxiety disorders have won my deep compassion, but so have trauma victims. For large numbers of these precious people, I have likewise had the undeserved privilege of devoting years and years to one-on-one support. Some are literally torture victims, and for many, the horrors began when they were little children. They are hounded by intense fears, blood-curdling flashbacks, nightmares, panic attacks, and so on. Although I have had little experience supporting soldiers suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), military personnel are proof that strong, brave people can find themselves terrorized by fears, and anyone who thinks himself tougher or more courageous than them, is an idiot.

Everyone in their right mind longs to avoid anything that triggers off-the-scale fear. It would seem fundamental to peace. And yet it isn’t. All that avoidance does is affirm fear; perpetuating it, and letting it ruin your life by encroaching on more and more of the freedoms you used to enjoy; slowly snuffing the life out of you, like an ever-tightening rope around your neck. To give fear an inch is to embolden it to take more. Avoiding something you strongly fear seems to bring a little peace, but it feeds the monster so that it grows stronger and stronger.

The Lord told someone close to me, “Fear is a boundary to be pushed, not a cage to live in.” I might add that for those who refuse to push against it, the cage keeps shrinking.

So here, yet again, we see that the key to peace is to do the very opposite of what we usually think would bring peace.