Have you ever longed for security? Has the ground you walk on been uneven and swampy? Do you take one step only to see your foot disappear into a bog of quicksand? Just when you think you have solid footing, you tumble headlong into a pond filled with rotting fishes? Did you think, “Man, I should have smelled that coming!” Or is it just me?
I have been practicing my French lately, as in, “pardon my French.” These little articulations of discomfort reveal the unsteadiness of my footing as French is not my native tongue. I’ve been trying to navigate an obstacle course of adverse events without breaking my leg and frankly, I have sprained both ankles. I like to consider myself a pretty hardy individual but I’m plumb tuckered out. I find myself praying, “Help, I just need help,” a lot more frequently than I care to admit. And it’s not because I’m a pansy. (Though I do like pansies – especially the yellow and violet colored kind.)
Several important questions have come to my mind as I consider my life and my place in the world. First, can I live up to my own high standards? It’s so easy for me to think about what other people are doing–or rather, should be doing–and form an opinion that shapes my attitude and behavior toward them. Second, can I extend grace to people the way God has extended grace to me? I often have this idea that everyone should be disciplined or they are just lazy. It is much easier to point fingers than take responsibility for my own actions. Which leads me to the last question, do I have the strength to surrender to God’s will for my life?
Why is this happening to me?
Someone wiser than myself might respond, “Why not me?” But when God’s boot squishes my face into the gravel, I would like an explanation. That doesn’t mean I’m going to get one, but while I’m coughing up blood, those questions just sort of necessarily intermingle with the fluids.
The thing is, I have been praying for something to change and it hasn’t. Because of that, I frequently doubt God’s goodness. I “kick against the goads” so to speak (see Acts 26:12-18). God is pointing me to move in one direction, but I keep trying to avoid His sharp, pointy stick. He is inevitably forced to push me to the ground with a simple question, “Margaret, what’s up? Do you want to follow me or not?”
My initial gut reaction is, “I’m not sure.” Because I’d rather walk on the easy path where there are gumdrop cobblestones and licorice arm rails and lollipop signs pointing to sugary (ignorance is) bliss. I find that I despise the discipline of the lord and grow weary when reproved by Him (Hebrews 12:5) because I have forgotten who He is.
Who is God?
“Who is this who darkens counsel by words without knowledge? Dress for action like a man; I will question you, and you make it known to me. Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements–surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it? On what were its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone, when the morning stars sang together and all the songs of God shouted for joy?” – Job 38:2-7
I am not a god, though I have frequently tried to be. I think my way is the best way and especially, I don’t think my heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked. I figure I know best and that’s that. Basically, I am in need of a little instruction. God knows this. He also knows I’m resistant to correction. Like Job and his friends, I have a fundamental misunderstanding of God. I disrespect His power, His holiness and His right understanding of the way things are in His universe.
Annie Dillard gives an interesting account in her famous book, The Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. “What else is going on right this minute while ground water creeps under my feet? The galaxy is careening in a slow, muffled widening. If a million solar systems are born every hour, then surely hundreds burst into being as I shift my weight to the other elbow. The sun’s surface is now exploding; other stars implode and vanish, heavy and black, out of sight. Meteorites are arcing to earth invisibly all day long. On the planet the winds are blowing: the polar easterlies, the westerlies, the northeast and southeast trades. Somewhere, someone under full sail is becalmed, in the horse latitudes, in the doldrums; in the northland, a trapper is maddened, crazed, by the eerie scent of the chinook, the snow-eater, a wind that can melt two feet of snow in a day. The pampero blows, and the tramontane, and the Boro, sirocco, levanter, mistral. Lick a finger: feel the now.”
I have made my experience of the universe too small. Why have I only focused on me? As if my experience of the world is all there is. Not only have I wrongly set my eyes in the mirror, but I have darkened my gaze to the beauty and mystery of the world around me. Where does life spring forth from? What makes the snake slither? How are the clouds shaped? Why does the earth have to move at all? It is always in motion. And why is it circular instead of square or oval or … flat?
I don’t have an answer to these questions, and I won’t. But rather than focus on these glorious mysteries and the magic in the world around me, I’m busy crying about transient things. I have been cursing when I should have been marveling. Behold what manner of love the Father has given to me that I should be called a child of God. And so I am! I am loved. Cherished. Precious in the sight of my creator – and flawed by sin. He wants to remake me in the image of His Son but I’m chasing after pots of fools gold at the end of fluorescent rainbows. I say I want security, but I already have it. I was purchased with the blood of His only son. So why am I trying to kick him in the shins and run away?
The pain in life is a reminder of what a broken, fallen world we live in. “Therefore, we must pay much closer to attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it. For since the message declared by angels proved to be reliable, and every transgression or disobedience received a just retribution, how shall we escape if we neglect such a great salvation? It was declared at first by the Lord, and it was attested to us by those who heard, while God also bore witness by signs and wonders and various miracles and by gifts of the Holy Spirit distributed according to his will.” (Hebrews 2:1-4)
If I am brave enough to recognize that He is God and I am not, I must surrender to His will in order to claim the security He promises. There are no coincidences. His sovereign will is always done. Nothing occurs apart from his sight, therefore, like Job, I repent in dust and ashes.
I have been trying to control people and situations, when I can’t even control myself. How foolish I have been. Am I the only one?
There are some very real tragedies in life that cloud my view of God. But the very essence of faith is trusting what I cannot see. Therefore, I must shift my gaze to Heaven. I must trust that God’s word is true and is no lie; He is a shield for all who take refuge in Him. The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear Him and delivers them. (Psalm 34).
My friend, if you have been kicking against the goads, as I have, let me remind you who is stronger and mightier and more loving than you could ever imagine. He loves us too much to leave us as we were. Surrender is sweet when we trust the Lord. And He is faithful who promised. He will never permit the righteous to be moved. And we are only righteous by the blood of His son, who laid down His life for us.
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