Lower expectations
I’ve noticed a certain weirdness about my faith lately. It seems like the more it grows, the less I expect from God. Is this what growth is really supposed to look like?
On the one hand, the better I know God, the more I recognize that He owes me absolutely nothing. He is God. He is perfect in all His ways. By comparison, I’m a speck of dust. Yes, He proclaims and demonstrates His intense love for this speck of dust. But compared to Him in all His greatness and glory, I am not worth even noticing.
My puny life expectancy is invisible next to His eternal existence. My meager attempts at loving are pitiful when seen beside His sacrificial giving for those who will never deserve it. My great intelligence is as an ameba’s compared to His infinite wisdom.
I’ve spent my life immersed in a culture that tells me how very valuable I am. I’ve been successful in nearly everything I’ve tried. Self-esteem? No problem. Just the opposite. Pride has always been my greatest spiritual challenge. So it’s taken me many years to begin to grasp how insignificant I am compared to God. If I truly see Him as He is, how can I expect to make any demands on Him at all?
On the other hand, all my forty-plus years as a Christian I’ve been told that great faith means trusting God to grant our requests for financial help, for physical healing, for any other real needs that we have in this life. Believers understandably enjoy telling stories about the big prayers they’ve prayed and how God went beyond their expectations and provided even more.
That’s what a mature Christians does, isn’t it? As your faith grows, God will do more and more miraculous things in your life, right?
Based on that understanding, many believers face a serious crisis when their child dies, or they experience financial ruin through no fault of their own, or a loved one lives with chronic pain year after year. Their faith crumbles. They want to scream at God and demand an answer to the Why that we all face.
But as I grow, knowing the Why becomes less important than knowing the Who.
As a result, I find myself lowering my expectations of God, as far as material blessings are concerned. I still bring all my cares to Him, trusting that He has the power to grant them. At the same time, I’m learning to accept that He knows best, even when I don’t understand His decisions. I’m trying to live, in my thoughts and my prayers and my emotions, as if this is really true.
Believe and receive
But I always thought greater faith meant higher expectations. Aren’t we supposed to pray in the belief that whatever we ask for will be given to us? If we don’t believe that strongly enough, isn’t that supposed to reduce the possibility that God will grant our requests (Matthew 9:22 and 29, 17:20, 21:21)? Am I sabotaging all my prayers if I lower my expectations?
Of course God has no obligation to respond if I don’t really believe in Him, but there’s a problem with this kind of thinking. In the context of the Bible as a whole, we’re supposed to pray in the belief that whatever we ask for will be given to us IF it’s His will. If I expect God to answer my prayers based primarily on the amount of faith that I have, rather than on His wisdom and purpose, then I’m placing my trust in my own faith, not in His character.
But what about Philippians 4:13, “I can do everything through him who gives me strength”? Doesn’t that mean that the more I grow and the more I depend on His strength, the more I’ll be able to accomplish? Shouldn’t I have greater expectations for material success based on this verse? That’s what I hear from many Christians around me.
Contentment
It’s true that, in His grace, God gives immeasurably more than all that we can ask or imagine (Ephesians 3:20). But I have to read this verse from Philippians in the context of the one before it: “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength.”
Paul isn’t writing about successful achievements when he speaks of doing “everything;” he’s referring very specifically to coping with whatever circumstances come his way. And not just coping, as in putting up with it until something better comes along, but being genuinely content. Even when the bad things happen. Even when God says no to prayers for relief. It’s okay to generalize this statement to cover more than just contentment, but in its context, it’s referring to spiritual growth, not material accomplishments.
So what should I expect from this God that I worship? More blessings, more answered prayers, more comfort in this life? I know that He will graciously provide those things as He wills. But is that what I want the most?
Maybe the shift in my thinking isn’t so much lowering my expectations as it is gaining a different perspective. Valuing Him for who He is, rather than for what He will do for me. Trusting in the spiritual blessings more than the physical ones. Growing in that Pauline contentment that comes with knowing that He loves me more dearly than words can express, and that He will act consistently with His good character and His perfect purposes even if that means greater suffering for myself and for those I love.
Suffering is temporary. His love and His purposes are eternal.