O Lord, my heart is not proud, nor my eyes haughty; nor do I involve myself in great matters, or in things too difficult for me. Surely I have composed and quieted my soul; Like a weaned child rests against his mother, my soul is like a weaned child within me. O Israel, hope in the Lord from this time forth and forever. (Psalm 131)
This verse sparks vivid memories. It was one of three verses I had claimed for myself as a young believer. For the record, claiming bible verses was a very spiritual thing to do in the mid-seventies. At that time it was doubtful God was leading you if you were without them.
Another of my verses was …
Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life and attend to your own business and work with your hands. (1 Thessalonians 4:11)
I believed these verses fit me perfectly in my mid twenties. However, through hindsight, I discovered there were mixed motives in my choices of my life-verses. Yes, I passionately wanted to know and follow this Jesus who had so radically altered my life but why had I latched onto simplicity and manual labor as conditions to this relationship?
At a younger age I had made some vows in order to avoid, at all costs, ever becoming involved in anything great or complex; more precisely, any greatness or complexity associated with my family’s businesses and their contentious owners – my dad and my uncles. I could not have articulated it as a child but now I know that those vows were made to insulate me from something I perceived would hurt me.
Neither did I know as a young believer that my life-verses were also servants of my agenda – to live a pain free life. While my Dad’s vocation as a contractor provided material security, for me it seemed to create relational insecurity. The business consumed my Dad’s time. During my junior and senior high years, my Dad left on Monday and returned Thursday or Friday. I did not fair well during those adolescent years. There is no need for details, suffice it to say, I was a troubled kid who was always in trouble. Sadly, I have no memory of a normal conversation with my Dad. I only recall words of correction and punishment, always delivered with frustration and disappointment.
As a very young boy I overheard violent exchanges between my dad and his brothers. This undid me. I knew I could never involve myself in anything like that. I vowed that I would not. I watched a nasty ulcer which was likely enflamed by family stress significantly rob dad of sleep and quality of life. No, I could never – would never – do the family business thing.
With my vows in the backdrop, exerting themselves subconsciously for the most part, I had followed a vocational path which had led me to the verge of fulfilling my life verses. I never had to leave my young family like Dad did because my place of work was in the town I lived in and ultimately in my home. My garage was a woodworking shop where I worked with my hands. My little cottage business was a sole proprietorship so I had no one to be at odds with (if we exclude God and my wife). In this cozy arrangement it seemed, at least to me, that God had set things up perfectly. Indeed he had, only not quite as I had expected.
One day I will record the details of the Monarch Millcraft / Heirloom FlagChest venture but today I will condense things to say that on the verge of succeeding in my ambition of a simple lifestyle, the rug was suddenly pulled from beneath me. The problem arose from my theological vantage point which placed God at the scene of this crime as either the agent of cause or, at the very least, a party of interest.
In the aftermath of this shaking, the violent oaths being exchanged were not between my dad and his brothers, they were between God and I. The demise of Monarch Millcraft, which was not an isolated heartbreak, was the final straw between God and myself. This sounds like tough talk but I really did not have any energy left to fight with. Nor did my theology provide a Plan B. In my heart I knew it was with God whom I had to do. In simple terms, I concluded I was being intentionally and lovingly broken. I think, in this moment, I both loved God and hated him with all my heart.
In the deepest parts of me where peace might be ruling there was a war raging. My soul was not like a weaned child within me. Like Jacob, I was in a serious wrestling match with God. And although I was angry as a hornet with God, the only resolve I had left was simply to not, if at all possible, allow this season to pass without discovering just what it was God was up to, in me. Although I hadn’t figured it out at that time, I now understand that he was simply answering my most frequent prayer….
Search me, O God, and know my heart; Try me and know my anxious thoughts; and see if there be any hurtful way in me, and lead me in the everlasting way. (Psalm 139:23-24)
This prayer was the third of my three life verses. (1 for 3. That’s not too bad.) I will forever by grateful to the late Paul Billheimer for writing Don’t Waste Your Sorrows and Destined For The Throne. In these books he assembles a redemptive framework for suffering. He explains how suffering plays into a believer’s destiny in a way that makes room for God’s sovereignty and our free-will. I believe this introductory course in “mystery” has equipped me to persevere at times when I might have chosen a more black or white cosmology – one that is either overly triumphant or fatalistic.
I have seen both in play in the church and even in my own life. The overly triumphant approach has the believer lying on the floor bleeding to death, singing, “I’ve got a river of life flowing out of me!” The fatalistic view say’s, “Well…I suppose I’m dying – God’s will be done!” We have constructed systematized theologies to give supposed hard biblical proof for both positions. I don’t see either of these positions well represented in the New Testament. In the pristine mystery of God’s life in us, I believe both the fatalist and the triumphalist are on ground apt to be mercifully shaken.
Since the time of these events I think I have a better understanding of what God’s point is. He doesn’t like heart-schemes which insulate us from pain because they ultimately cripple our capacity to love and be loved. Nor does he like our theological schemes which implicate him as either a Santa Clause or a Scrooge. He is our Father. He wants to be our provision. He does not want us leaning on anything which might insulate us from him. Suffering is the place where we discover he alone is our life. For those who are serious about following Jesus, he is committed to demolishing every faulty foundation. He loves us too much to leave us in our unstable deceptions.
You may have guessed (or know), I did end up joining our family’s business. It has not been particularly simple and I have not worked with my hands much. However, in God’s infinite kindness, and sense of humor, he has permitted me to, more and more, make the same claim as David in Psalm 131, that my soul is at peace and is at rest in him as a contented child in a mother’s arms. How amazing is God to permit me to adopt verses for the wrong reasons only to arrange for me to be the beneficiary of them in ways I could have never imagined.
For the record: In the years before my father passed, much healing took place in our relationship and through further divine agency, Jesus saw to it that my earthly father would come to know him. I am stunned at God’s patience and generosity toward my family and myself. Here is a humble and humorous man’s read on his life as he perceives it, resting in God’s hands.
I’m easily fooled most of the time but nobody’s ever gonna dig too deep / We’re all in a hurry to somewhere else with distractions and too little sleep / Got a list of questions long as my arm and the only second chance I see, to live and die without permanent harm, is if God can outmaneuver me. (2nd verse from “Faithful” by Bob Bennett)
I too am utterly dependent on God to outmaneuvering me.
Father, help us to see Your redemptive intentions in our lives which are made possible only by Your sovereignty and kindness. Help us to entrust ourselves to You when we are hurting. Help us to lean into You instead of hiding ourselves away in some theological or heart delusion. Give us faith and courage to move forward in whatever trial we are facing, realizing, all the while, we are staring You in the face. Amen.