Revival is Closer Than We Think: A Renewed Vision of God’s Faithfulness to the Brokenhearted

Two of my favorite Bible verses are 2 Corinthians 4:17–18. Maybe you know them, too: 

For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.

As I look back, I realize that I’ve been trying to see what others don’t for my whole career as a writer and teacher—maybe my whole life. More than 15 years ago, in one of my first books, I searched for A God-Sized Vision in the stories of revival from Scripture and subsequent history. One of my mentors—co-author John Woodbridge—asked if we don’t see revival today because we don’t even know what it looks like. We don’t even know to ask for this blessing, where the eternal glory breaks into our transient lives.

I’m not motivated to look for God because I’m so good at finding Him at work in miraculous ways. I’m obsessed with this search because I’m not. I read in Scripture a world bathed in God’s glory. I read that Jesus Christ is upholding the universe “by the word of his power” (Heb. 1:3). I read that “in him all things hold together” (Cor. 1:17). But I can’t see it. And too often, I don’t live like what I read is true. I don’t act like God is the gravity that keeps me from flying off my two feet into the nothingness of dark, cold, infinite space. 

So I squint. I strain. Because I want to see. 

Much more than I do right now.

Not long ago a discouraged friend asked me where I see hope. Admittedly I may be strange, but I look back in history for worse times and try to see where God showed up in unexpected ways. After all, by definition, revival requires a “before” picture. You don’t see revival unless things begin bleak. I’m currently writing a book about Winston Churchill and C. S. Lewis and the fight to save Western civilization in the Second World War. Back in June 1941 either fascism or communism was going to prevail. The Western democracies, supported by their Christian populations, didn’t realistically stand a shot. And yet Churchill and Lewis became household names as Western civilization fought back—and won.

I’ve also turned back recently to Israel’s exilic period, especially the book of Esther, which is perhaps most famous not for what it says but for what it doesn’t say. The name of God never appears. But everywhere we look we see Him at work. He is the gravity that prevents His people from utter destruction at the hand of their enemies, intent on genocide. 

Esther is a fitting book for our times. We see more than any other generation in history. Glowing rectangles bring the world into our pockets with sights Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob never imagined. And yet somehow we seem to see God less than ever before. Maybe that’s not a coincidence. Maybe we’re not seeing as much as we think.

Esther can help restore our eyesight as we meditate on her impossible choice. If she approaches the king and reveals her identity as a Jew, she’s likely to get executed. And if she doesn’t say anything, all the Jews will die under the genocidal plot of the king and his chief of staff, Haman. 

Anyone can plainly see that the smart move is to keep her head down. Look what happened to the previous queen! Persian law commanded death to anyone who approached the king in his inner court without an invitation (Esther 4:11). The king was unlikely to make an exception, even for a queen. Kings want to know about plots against their lives, as Mordecai earlier disclosed. But they don’t want to be bothered with petty squabbles and court intrigue over which entire people group gets murdered, as later faced Esther.

We like to imagine the spiritual turning point of our lives from retrospect, with the afterglow of success. We want to be Churchill and Lewis, famous for their foresight. But revival begins with everyday faithfulness. We just need to take the next step of courage and faith. That’s what Esther did when she refused to keep her head down, refused to believe silence was the best way to keep her head attached. God never promises that if we just fit in then we’ll never get tossed out. In fact, just the opposite is true. 

When Israel became like the nations, God exiled them from the promised land. 

When Esther spoke up, God preserved a refuge for his people in Persia.

Mordecai and Esther couldn’t see what God would do. But they knew he would keep his promises. God never takes his eyes off His people. He sees their distress. He didn’t send Abraham and Isaac up the mountain just so their children would be slaughtered. He didn’t bring the Hebrews out of Egypt just so they would die in Persia. He didn’t send the Jews to exile in Babylon just so they would forget Him.

No, God performed a miracle before their eyes that the world would never forget. Jews have been celebrating this deliverance for thousands of years, known as Purim, for the lots cast by Haman. Christians, too, celebrate God’s promises, which can never be broken, unto the last generation.

“If I perish, I perish,” Esther said as she approached the king (Esther 4:16). 

We may not always see God working in this world. 

But he sees us.

Yes, we see more of the world than any other human beings in history. Birth to death, we record and watch every step live. And we can share our thoughts for all the world to see! We don’t need to rule any vast kingdom like Persia to wield influence. We have a magic rectangle and a Wifi signal. The right TikTok trend or podcast persona make us masters of the universe (or at least the one served up for us on that little screen). 

But do we see God? Do we know that he sees us? 

Recently a Christian pastor criticized my beliefs as “loser theology.” And I think if you see as the world does, he’s right. That’s what Haman thought of Mordecai and Esther. The king and Haman sat down to enjoy a drink together while the city panicked ahead of their planned genocide (Esther 3:15). At that moment, Haman had half the world at his feet. 

And God was nowhere in sight. 

Psalm 34:17–22 might as well be a commentary on Esther. It tells us whom God sees. And it tells us how God sees:

            When the righteous cry for help, the LORD hears

                        and delivers them out of all their troubles.

            The LORD is near to the brokenhearted

                        and saves the crushed in spirit.

                        

            Many are the afflictions of the righteous,

                        but the LORD delivers him out of them all.

            He keeps all his bones;

                        not one of them is broken.

            Affliction will slay the wicked,

                        and those who hate the righteous will be condemned.

            The LORD redeems the life of his servants;

                        none of those who take refuge in him will be condemned. 

The world—even some leaders in the church—might think you’re a loser if you’re brokenhearted and crushed in spirit. But the Lord promises to deliver you from all your troubles.

Maybe you don’t think of your life or history as a miracle, at least not on the scale and drama of Esther. Maybe you long to experience a dramatic revival, even a national awakening. But I contend that for every Christian, the New Testament still promises us a miracle, even if it feels more mundane, day to day. We see it in 1 Peter 1:8–9: “Though you have not seen him, you love him. Though you do not now see him, you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls.” 

No, we don’t yet see God. But we still love Him. We still believe in Him. And He promises to fill us with a joy the whole world could never contain. One day we will be delivered. Just like Esther. Even better, actually. The King of heaven has come down for us. He gave His perfect, sinless life for us when we were still His enemies (Rom 5:10). Jesus knew He would perish, because He knew it was the only way we could live as His children, forever. 

Rest assured, He’s coming for us again soon. And “when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is.” On a day far greater even than Purim, nothing will be left to chance. For “everyone who thus hopes in him purifies himself as he is pure” (1 John 2:2-3). What a sight we’re in for, all of us, as sons and daughters of the King above all kings.