The grammar nerd in me has to point out that it should read “when you’re out of options.” I just had to throw that in there.

But when it comes to worship out of abandonment and brokenness, I thankfully can’t say that I’ve had much experience. I’ve known times when I feel my own sinfulness more keenly and when my weakness is staring me in the face. I’ve had those moments when I most deeply feel my need of God.

Those times are when the prayers flow out of me. That’s when my requests and petitions stop being polite and start being real, to borrow a phrase from the old MTV reality shows back in the 90s.

Some of you reading this know far more about praying from a broken heart and from a place of abandonment. You truly know what it’s like to be alone. You know what it’s like to have nothing but Jesus and nowhere to look but up.

But the Bible says “The Lord is near to the broken-hearted and saves the crushed in spirit “(Psalm 34:18, ESV).

That’s not a feel-good sentiment. That’s a promise.

God is faithful. God knows what it’s like to experience the very worst that humanity can do to you and knows the very depth of suffering like no one else. Jesus was a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief (Isaiah 53:3, ESV).

Sometimes all we have are our tears and sighs. Those are just as acceptable in the eyes of God as the most eloquent prayers ever offered up by any preacher from any pulpit on any given Sunday. They are beautiful to God.

If you ever rode in the back of a station wagon back in the day, your childhood was epic. Bonus points for if it had wooden paneling on the sides. Extra bonus points if it had a rear-facing seat in the back where you could freak out every time a car behind you got super close.

Today, traveling is nothing. We have devices to help pass the time with everything from streaming to audio books to social media. Back in the day, we’d play games like who could find the license plate from furthest away. Either that or we’d try to get a trucker to blow his horn. It was simpler times, apparently.

This was back before the days of GPS, so we had to pull out actual maps that we bought from gas stations to try and figure out where we were going. Either you got good at reading a map or you spent a lot of time wandering aimlessly up and down back roads hoping and praying that you could eventually get to your destination.

For me, traveling as a kid was an adventure. Staying at a hotel was a treat. Even stopping at an Arby’s on the way was a big deal. It’s funny what you take for granted now that would have blown your mind as a kid.

Oh, and everything was a LOT less expensive back then. And probably tasted way better. Just sayin’.

“The stronghold of the Christian faith is the joy of God, not my joy in God. . . . God reigns and rules and rejoices, and His joy is our strength” (Oswald Chambers, The Complete Works of Oswald Chambers, Run Today’s Race).

If my salvation depended on me, I’d have lost it a long time ago. My faith is fickle, and my emotions are up and down, depending on the weather, what I ate last, and about a million other variables. But God is the same yesterday, today, and forever. And so is His joy.

That’s comforting on the bad days when I don’t have any joy in me. That’s assuring on the good days when I know that the joy in me is not my own. I know that my strength doesn’t come from me. The joy of the Lord is my strength.

What a blessed thought that my anchor is steadfast and immovable. When the world around me is chaotic, my God is not. I can rest because I am held by the nail-scarred hands that were wounded for me.

Not that I won’t ever have any more bad days. I know me too well. I know I can take my eyes off Jesus and only see the storm, like ol’ Peter did and sank like a stone. But God is faithful even in the midst of the wind and waves. His path is still through the sea, and His footsteps are still unseen, as the Psalmist wrote long ago.

No matter what, in life or in death, I am held and I am safe.

“Lift up your eyes! You are certainly a creature of time, but you are also a child of eternity. You are a citizen of heaven, and an alien and exile on earth, a pilgrim travelling to the celestial city.

I read some years ago of a young man who found a five-dollar bill on the street and who ‘from that time on never lifted his eyes when walking. In the course of years he accumulated 29,516 buttons, 54,172 pins, 12 cents, a bent back and a miserly disposition.’

But think what he lost.

He couldn’t see the radiance of the sunlight, the sheen of the stars, the smile on the face of his friends, or the blossoms of springtime, for his eyes were in the gutter.

There are too many Christians like that.

We have important duties on earth, but we must never allow them to preoccupy us in such a way that we forget who we are or where we are going” (John Stott).

“I will lift up my eyes to the mountains; From where shall my help come? My help comes from Yahweh, Who made heaven and earth” (Psalm‬ ‭121‬:‭1‬-‭2‬, LSB‬)

It’s easy to be like a horse with blinders on and be so focused on the next place or the next task that we forget to notice where we are or pay attention to the surroundings. We don’t see the people in front of us or appreciate the creation God has set before us.

Even more, we’re so focused on the immediate that we fail to account for eternity. But as we know, life is short and eternity is . . . well, forever. It’s folly to be so worried about this little sliver of our existence and not be prepared for our eternal destination.

It’s true that we can’t take anything with us when we die. But we can take with us those who have trusted in Jesus because we were faithful to have gospel conversations with them. That’s why it’s so vital to always be ready to give an answer for the hope we have.

That starts by not losing sight of that hope by being so earthly-minded that we forget to look up once in a while. Lift up your eyes, because that’s where your true destination lies.

“Do not forget to rejoice, for hope is always just around the corner. Hold up through the hard times that are coming, and devote yourselves to prayer” (Romans 12:12, The Voice).

The more traditional ESV translation puts it this way: “Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.”

But I really like that hope is aways just around the corner. It’s nearby but always shows up unexpectedly. That’s how God is, always near and showing up in ways you’d least expect but in hindsight could not have been better.

Also, the hard times are coming. It’s not a matter of if but when. They will come. Jesus didn’t say that in this world you might have troubles. He said you would. But even the worst of the trials has an expiration date. But God’s faithfulness doesn’t.

To be devoted to prayer is to be intentional about it. For me, that means that I have to make margin in my schedule for prayer. I have to prioritize it above anything and everything else that could easily distract me and keep me from it.

But in all things, we’re still called to rejoice. Hope is nearby, hardships don’t last, and prayer still works. That’s a good enough reason to celebrate, I think.

Sometimes, the way God orchestrates my life amazes me. I think about my time in marching and symphonic band, sitting in my chair and learning how to count bars. I was never the best trumpet player, but I enjoyed being a part of an ensemble that could at times make beautiful music.

Little did I know that years later, all that experience counting bars would pay off in a totally unrelated way. As a tech volunteer for my church, I help the church worship by keeping up with the song lyric slides during the worship songs. Part of that involves knowing time signatures and counting bars between the choruses and the verses.

God often uses experiences like that, along with the different kinds of people you meet, to shape you for a future you probably have no idea right now that’s coming. In God’s economy, nothing is ever wasted. No single encounter with another living soul. Not even the most insignificant moments in your day. Every thing and every one serves a purpose in God’s plan for your life.

The key is teachability. Will you resist or will you learn? Will you defy or will you grow? Once you begin to cultivate a spirit of humility and surrender and learning, then you open yourself up for God to use in ways that you could not even fathom right now. Your mind can’t conceive and your imagination can’t dream up the ways God could act in your life toward yourself and others. That should probably be in the Bible somewhere. Oh wait . . .

Lord, help me to pay attention to all the little details of my daily life. Help me to remember that all the boring and mundane is preparing me for a future that only You can see. Amen.