When 1 + 1 does not equal 2

When 1 + 1 does not equal 2.

I grew up thinking 1 + 1 = 2. I imagine you did too. After all, that’s what we were taught, right? If you have ever experienced having something you grew up believing/being taught shattered at your feet, you know it is devastating. When something you believe to be fact is debunked, you start questioning everything you believe. Mathematically speaking, I still know that 1 + 1 = 2, but in another area of my life, that did not line up, and it sent me reeling.

I grew up in a wonderful, loving Christian home, raised by parents who sought God first and always tried to obey His leading to raise their children. Nearly every morning of my childhood and teenage years we met together as a family and read God’s word together. We went to a fellowship of believers on a regular basis, attended seminars to gain further insight into God’s Word, and often hosted Bible studies in our home. I remember my parents as Godly people who sought to hear from God and then adjust their lives to what they learned (they still are that way). At the same time, they were not the sort of people who heard teaching and just swallowed it as truth. No, they modeled for us how to take teaching to the Word of God and evaluate it for ourselves.

But, back to the 1 + 1 equation. Somewhere along the line, I picked up the idea that if you are a Christian, you obey God, and live for Him, you will have a happy life, full of blessings. I’m not sure where the idea comes from, but I guess it fits the typical fairytale type story: accept Christ and then live happily ever after. Except, it’s not exactly Biblical. Oh yes, the ever after part is, when you are referring to eternity, but I was expecting it here and now. Live right = have a good life, your prayers answered, blessings poured in, etc. In other words, 1 + 1 should equal 2. Except it didn’t.

There were a number of hiccoughs and bumps along the way in my life that should have clued me in to this false perception of the gospel that I held, but I was “strong” and pressed on. That’s how I went through life, troubles came, rocked the boat, and I reassured myself in the Word of God and held fast. After all, I was the strong one.

A couple of years ago, though, the strength became incredibly hard to maintain. My faith in who God is and my belief in my salvation through Jesus’ death, burial, and resurrection did not change, but slowly I lost my joy, my hope, and my fellowship with my Father. Things in life were not working out the way they should. I saw my parents going through some incredibly tough stuff, and that just was not fair. They had been faithful (1) + God was God (1) = so why were their prayers not getting answered? Why were things not changing? Why were they becoming more difficult? Situations happened in various siblings’ lives that were not fair. They were faithful to God as well, why weren’t things working out “better?” Over and over again it seemed like we were running into walls. Actually, it felt like we stepped on the end of a two by four and it came and hit us in the face.

And then it happened to me. Infertility. It was something Clifford and I talked about before marriage, knowing I had some health issues and wasn’t incredibly young, but we thought we were fine with it. Until it became more of a reality that stared us in the face. I had surgery a few months after we were married to deal with fibroids, and we were pretty sure everything would be okay after that. God revealed to me during that time that I had been doing quite a bit of bargaining with Him. Without saying so explicitly in my prayers, I felt in my heart that I deserved for my prayers to be answered, after all, I have done x, y, and z… I repented and sought to deal with those thoughts. In reality, I basically made them just a little more “holy:” my parents deserve to have grandkids, they have been faithful, they’ve been through so much, etc. Still expecting that 1 + 1 = 2 equation to work out.

A little over a year later I had surgery again to deal with some issues left from the first surgery. And even though the doctor felt really good with the results of that surgery, reality began to set in. I’m over 40 and not likely to have kids. Shortly after that, in February 2017, I was diagnosed with some more health issues. This was after working diligently on health issues since 2014 when I had been diagnosed with Celiac disease. After all the work I had put in to improving my health, the major diet changes, the supplements I had been taking, I really wasn’t expecting more stuff. But there it was. And the doctor recommended more MAJOR dietary changes.

We headed down to Belize shortly thereafter, me with a list of stuff I couldn’t eat, and a very weary soul. I was weary of trying to fix everything, of thinking that if I do this and this then maybe God will do that and that. Most of all, I was weary of believing that 1 + 1 = 2, but seeing that so many times, it simply does not. I was weighed down with our infertility journey along with that of my brother and sister-in-law. I also had a book. No More Faking Fine. If you had asked me, I would have said that I hadn’t been faking fine. I thought  I really was fine. I still believed God. I still talked about Him and the things that He did. I still did things because of love for Him. But inside, I really was hurting, and I didn’t know what to do about it. No More Faking Fine let me see what I could do about it. I could talk to God about it in a way I never had before. It really hit home when I realized that even Jesus had asked God “why.” I had always kind of judged David and the other Psalm writers for not having enough faith: after all, they often asked God why in their Psalms and did quite a bit of whining. Yet, even Jesus asked God why on the cross: “My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?” And I realized that God really does care how I feel, that it is okay to pour out my heart to Him. I realized it isn’t a sin to ask “why”, to say I don’t understand. Because really, I don’t understand a lot of the stuff happening. It doesn’t make sense. Often, we are willing to bare our emotions, our thoughts, our feelings to those closest to us: it is a level of trust reserved for those who have been allowed in our inner circle. And yet… I wasn’t willing to give God that level of trust. I felt that I had to keep a front up with Him, or He would think I didn’t have faith (as if God couldn’t see my heart anyway!?).

And so, I began to pour my heart out to God, to ask Him “why,” to tell Him I didn’t understand, to ask Him how long I would feel like He was neglecting me. As I did, I noticed a wonderful thing began to happen: I felt His presence and love more than I had in a long time. I realized that God really does draw near to the brokenhearted, and in the pride of being “strong,” I had resisted His grace. Over the next few months, He drew me patiently closer to Himself, and I started to find joy again. I realized that instead of looking for the reasons for joy around me, I had been wallowing in self-pity.

I also discovered that 1 + 1 does not equal 2. God never promised it would. Here I was frustrated with Him because I felt that everyone had done what they were supposed to, and yet He hadn’t fulfilled His end of the bargain. But, it wasn’t ever a bargain He had agreed to; He never said that life would all work out happily for those who followed Him. Besides, even if He had, who of us have followed Him perfectly enough to deserve blessings anyway? I realized that the 1 + 1 equation of a Christian life was something I believed but had no basis in Scripture. I’m pretty sure I’ve even heard some messages along the way that reinforced my belief. You probably have too. But the reality? God promises that those who follow Him will have tribulation. He doesn’t promise an easy life, but He does promise to be with us, to never leave us. He does not promise that we won’t feel the effects of sin in this fallen world. There will be things that happen that hurt us because of the work of sin in the world around us, but He does promise to use those things for His glory and our good. And that’s okay. Because He is God and I am not. He could choose to step in and fix things in my life if He wants to, but He is under no obligation to do so because of some imaginary scale of everything on my side of the equation plus everything on His side of the equation equaling a rosy life. I had allowed myself to be devastated, frustrated, and even angry at God because of an untruth that I had believed. I had never made a conscious, deliberate decision to believe a lie, but it had crept in, taken root, and the enemy had used it to destroy my joy, my hope, and my trust.

So, 1 + 1 does not equal 2, and I’m glad. So very grateful. Because the whole point of the Gospel is because a people, a people chosen by God, could not reap all the promises God had for them, because they could not keep their side of the bargain. The Old Testament shows us that over and over again. But somehow, I still wanted it to be true. Because I thought my filthy rags were beautiful garments of righteousness to God and deserving of a glorious life of dreams fulfilled. Instead, I’ve been given something far better: a relationship with a loving Father Who is constantly at work for His glory and my good. Who takes my broken pieces, loves me unconditionally, understands my heart, and gives me joy. Now that’s awesome math!