Hope, Humility, and Wisdom

The moving van pulled up to our house for the third time in twenty-one months. Without any job prospects in sight, we were moving out of the house we had been renting in Kentucky and back into the home we had been unable to sell in Virginia. The past few months had been hard. We moved to Kentucky excited about a new job on a great football staff. Then, our staff was fired just months later. Now, it seemed like all the other coaches had found jobs, and we had no direction.

We were trying to remember those times when we had distinctly heard from God. Sometimes it had been difficult to be obedient, such as when we left the financial security of the corporate world to pursue the ministry of coaching. Nothing was harder than when God seemed silent. Like now. So in the middle of his silence, we made plans to return to Virginia. Moving away, but not really moving towards anything.

Our decision came at the end of a twenty-one-day fast and study of the Book of Daniel. Reading Daniel should have encouraged me to trust in the absolute sovereignty of God. But reading about how God rescued Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego from the fire made me question why he wasn’t rescuing us from another season of unemployment. And the familiar story of Daniel in the Lion’s Den? Rather than drawing strength from the fact that our God is the same God who shuts the mouths of lions, I simply wondered why he wasn’t intervening on our behalf. God performed amazing miracles throughout the Bible.

The stories that should have comforted me with his sovereign plans for his servants in the Bible only made me question his plan for me. With laser-like focus, my heart fixated on the fact that Daniel had gone to Babylon against his will. That’s where I was—I knew that moving back into our home made more sense than paying rent in Kentucky, but I did not want to go back. Going back was going to be so uncomfortable. My mind kept rehearsing the inevitable conversations I knew I would have at church, the grocery store, and walking through our neighborhood.

“Didn’t you move?”

“What are you doing back?”

“Where is your husband working?”

So many questions I did not want to answer.

In his book, Thriving in Babylon: Why Hope, Humility, and Wisdom Matter in a Godless Culture, Larry Osborne builds a solid case for how Daniel did more than merely survive during his years in Babylon, he thrived—by clinging to hope, humility, and wisdom. As my husband and I started our study of Daniel, I was barely surviving. Thriving wasn’t even on my radar. My hope was waning, and wisdom seemed out of reach. And let’s face it—no one wants to admit they lack humility, but in this case, my pride was the root cause of my discomfort in moving back to Virginia. Through that time of fasting and Bible study, we began to pray specifically for hope, humility, and wisdom. Reluctantly, we made plans to move back.

As I packed and pondered, I thought more and more about Daniel and his friends. I longed for Daniel’s hope, wisdom and humility, and for the “even if” faith of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. They boldly told King Nebuchadnezzar that the God they served was able to deliver them from the fiery furnace, but even if he did not, they would always worship only him. I also proclaim that I will worship only Jesus, but sometimes, when things heat up, when life gets hard and I don’t see God doing what I think he should be doing, my faith grows cold. Instead of walking through the fire, knowing Jesus is by my side, I choose to take things into my own hands. I try to fix the problem and, in doing so, bowing down to the god of self-sufficiency.

For whatever reason, God clearly had us on the move, wandering in circles, much like the Israelites had done for forty long years. The narrative about Israel’s journey in Exodus, God’s provision, and their propensity to turn to idols really hit home. In the past, I had judged the wandering tribes of Israel so harshly. Why did they form a golden calf to worship instead of worshipping the God who had brought them out of captivity and was sustaining them day-to-day with manna from heaven? Now, I thought about all the ways I sought security in lesser things when God seemed silent.

Tim Keller writes, “Idolatry happens when we take good things and make them ultimate things.” Comfort and security and even certain relationships had become ultimate things to me; I had convinced myself I could not be satisfied without them. In Philippians 4, Paul shares that he learned the secret of being content in any and every situation—through Christ, who gave him strength. We must on Christ alone as the source of our hope, wisdom, and security. We must learn to humbly walk with him.

Before we crossed the Virginia state line, I realized why God was taking us back. We had left in the middle of broken promises and broken relationships. God was taking us back for reconciliation. Isn’t that what the stories God writes are always about?

In hindsight, as I reflect on this season, I can see how God was speaking to us. He spoke to us through the Book of Daniel, through his people, and through his creation. Sometimes all he gives us is what we need for the very next step— “a lamp unto our feet”—when what we crave is a spotlight illuminating the days and months ahead. While I was screaming for him to speak to me, he was gently whispering for me to listen.

What is God whispering to you in this season?

Ann Skalaski and her husband of thirty-three years live in Gainesville, FL. They have moved a dozen times, raising three children along the way. They have added a son-in-law, daughter-in-law, and two precious grandsons to the mix. When she is not packing or unpacking, Ann enjoys serving as a mentor mom for MOPS International, joining Bible studies, meeting friends for coffee, taking long walks, and watching lots of football. Ann is passionate about using lessons from her journey to help other women navigate change in their own lives.

Photograph © Timothy Tarasov, used with permission