Little by Little

Discipline yourselves and keep alert. Like a roaring lion your adversary the devil prowls around, looking for someone to devour. - 1 Peter 5.8

Of course, Peter never says that the Devil swallows us whole. 

Cuban poet Armando Valladares spent twenty-two years as a political prisoner under Fidel Castro. In his book, Against All Hope, he recounts many small but mighty triumphs of the human spirit over oppression which make survival possible. On one occasion a guard bragged that no prisoner could get anything past him. A certain Captain Morejon, hearing the boast, warned, "Why, if you're not careful, these men will drag a sack of fertilizer right in under your nose and you'll never even know it."

Game on!

The sacks in question weighed upwards of two hundred pounds, but the prisoners were determined. First, they opened one of the sacks by picking out three inches from the top seam. Next, they emptied its contents through that tiny opening. The squad spreading the fertilizer dropped the empty bag near the cell block door and the cleaning crew brought it inside. After that, hundreds of men muled in small amounts of the fertilizer in pockets, shoes, and matchboxes, pouring each little offering back into the tiny tear at the mouth of the bag. When it was full, they sewed the seam back up and waited for the next search to turn it up. Guards were furious! Political Commissioners tramped into the fields to discover how the men had done it. The prisoners, of course, claimed complete ignorance.

Satan works with sin like a convict with a load of fertilizer. The devout Christian who would never take delivery on a two-hundred pound bag of transgression might not notice as the Enemy slyly slips a pocketful here and a fistful there through a tiny tear in his spiritual defenses. Maybe that's why Jesus equated anger with murder and lust with adultery: Once the first little pile of rebellion trickles in, it's only a matter of time. "It does not matter how small the sins are" Uncle Screwtape, the seasoned tempter, tells his trainee-nephew Wormwood, "provided that their cumulative effect is to edge the man away from the Light and out into the Nothing. Murder is no better than cards if cards can do the trick."

Discipline yourselves and keep alert: Roaring lions or nibbling mice; it's all the same in the end.

More God Than We Bargained For

When all the people witnessed the thunder and lightning, the sound of the trumpet, and the mountain smoking, they were afraid and trembled and stood at a distance, and said to Moses, "You speak to us, and we will listen; but do not let God speak to us, or we will die." - Exodus 20.18-19

In her book, Spiritual Direction: Beyond the Beginnings, Janet K. Ruffing tells the story of a novice who, uncertain about making her final vows as a nun, was advised by another sister to pray about it. She retired to her cell, where a bright light flooded the room and she felt the overwhelming love of God. She bolted into the hallway. Her friend spied her and asked if she had prayed about her call. "I did," the woman retorted, "and now God is in my room!" 

The children of Israel hustled into the wilderness to meet the Lord at Mount Sinai. When the presence of God manifested in no uncertain terms, they began to wonder if the Egyptians had really been there biggest threat! They immediately elected Moses shop foreman and suggested he handle the negotiations personally; after all, Moses was good at this God-stuff. 

It is good to listen to those who speak for God, unless this strategy becomes a dodge to avoid listening to God for ourselves. C. S. Lewis' demon-mentor Screwtape advises his protege Wormwood to interfere with the "patient's" pray by any means available. He concludes that, "In avoiding this situation - this real nakedness of the soul in prayer - you will be helped by the fact that the humans themselves do not desire it so much as they suppose. There's such a thing as getting more than they bargained for!"

Asking God for things - even big, water-from-a-rock or quail-storm kinds of things - frightens us far less than asking God for, well, God. When the Lord yanked back the veil of the temple, the prophet didn't particularly like what the blinding light revealed about his own spiritual condition (Isa 6.5). Ezekiel saw God and couldn't get a word out edgewise for a week (Ez 3.15). Revelation 6 reveals that the vast majority of folks prefer spelunking to spiritual experience (Rev 6.15-16). And it just may be that a lot of our church business is really church busy-ness carefully crafted to keep God at a respectable distance.

When the novice in the story above explained her plight to her mentor, the older woman asked the obvious question: "Then what are you doing out here?" Perhaps that's something we should ask ourselves from time to time.

But as it is, God has arranged the members of the body, each one of them, as he chose. 

- 1 Corinthians 12.18

In 2000, the Buffalo Bills cut running back Antowain Smith, a former first-round draft pick, after three unremarkable seasons. The New England Patriots signed him and in 2002 he was the leading rusher in their first Super Bowl victory.

In the same game, David Patten scored the Pat's only offensive touchdown. He'd arrived in New England by way of the arena football league and four mediocre seasons with two other NFL franchises. 

Corey Dillon seemed on his way out of professional football when, after an outstanding career, his rushing numbers got smaller and his thirtieth birthday got closer. He joined New England in 2004. He put up his best stats ever that season led all backs in rushing yardage in the 2005 Super Bowl, scoring a touchdown in the 21-24 victory. 

Malcolm Butler, an undrafted rookie, snagged a key interception in the closing seconds to preserve New England's victory in Super Bowl XLIX. St. Louis cut linebacker Matt Chatham in his rookie year; he contributed to three Patriot's NFL championships. 

The guys nobody wants become the guys everybody needs when they put on a Pat's uniform. Players go from marginal to magnificent. Klutz players transform to clutch players. What gives?

Bill Pennington of the New York Times speculates that Pat's coach Bill Belichick has the ability to find places players fit. Matt Light, an offensive lineman and one of Belichick's rescues, explains: "There were always younger guys that maybe got overlooked because there was a piece of their game that hadn't been fully realized, but Bill sees the potential. Bill can wait on them, and then he can insert them into roles clearly defined." 

Hogan, the converted lacrosse player, agrees: "I think the Patriots have shown an ability to see guys for what they can ultimately be, and then they tailor the coaching to see if they can make it happen." Chatham, the reclaimed linebacker, adds, "They're not going to put you out in some sort of uncomfortable situation where athletically you wouldn't be able to do it. They may find things that you do better than anyone else that another scheme doesn't highlight." 

Paul likens the church to a body which knows exactly how to bring about the best opportunity for each member. The foot failed at tying shoes but excelled at walking in them. The ear, though blind as a bat, had twenty/twenty vision when it came to hearing. The hand went from zero to hero when it discovered which role it played in hand-eye coordination. 

Christ, the head (coach), has arranged the members of the body, each one of them, as he chose. What a joy to be a member of that team, where the all-wise Lord slots each person into the place for which he, from before eternity, crafted that individual! Maybe it's time for pastors to quit complaining that the players aren't performing and pay more attention to the placement God has chosen. Maybe it's time for church members to quit trying to walk on their hands or smell with their knee-caps and instead find the joy of relaxing into what God calls them to do. 

Day Clean

Awake, my soul! Awake, O harp and lyre! I will awake the dawn.

- Psalm 57.8, 108.2

The Gullah are an African-American people group who inhabit the Lowlands of Georgia and South Carolina, both on the shores and the coastal islands. They have their own language, a Creole molded on English with significant West and Central African influences. It even has its own vocabulary. For instance, the Gullah word for dawn is "day clean."

I love that! "Day clean" - those wispy tendrils of time when twenty-four virgin hours lie unlived before us.  Each night when we close our eyes in sleep we shake the Etch-a-Sketch of our incomplete autobiographies. In the morning we marvel at the clean screen as we receive a new day. Blew the diet yesterday? Try again. Fell into old patterns of sin and self? This morning, so far so good. To-Do list became a To Didn't indictment? Get a running start. 

The psalmists anticipated the Gullah concept of "day clean." Twice in the hymnal of Sacred Scripture the inspired poets declare their intention to start the day before the day starts in on them. They harnessed the morning's first moments to the praise and worship of the Almighty. They pledged to recalibrate their circadian rhythms by the compass of the Divine. If dawn finds me on my knees, there is a better chance that sundown will find me still on my feet.

Perhaps that is why Mark 1 records that Jesus, after his inaugural ministry in the synagogue of Capernaum, rising up a great while before day, went out, and departed into a solitary place, and there prayed (v.35). In Spanish, muy de manana; in Gullah, "at day clean." 

Carpe diem is a lovely sentiment, but trying to seize the day after it's already begun unraveling is like trying to saddle a rodeo bronc after the gate has opened and it's begun bucking across the arena. Better to seize the sunrise, to catch dawn napping, to contemplate the clean day before life clutters it up. As Thomas a Kempis prayed, "Grant me now, this very day, to begin perfectly, for thus far I have done nothing."

Well, Poop!

For my people have committed two evils: they have forsaken me, the fountain of living water, and dug out cisterns for themselves, cracked cisterns that can hold no water.

- Jeremiah 2.13

I hate to break it to you, but you've been showering in poop.

Bug poop, to be precise. Entomologist Rob Dunn, in his new book From Microbes to Millipedes, explains that various microscopic organisms live in your shower head and construct a carapace of their own excrement to keep from being washed away. Most of these little guys do not harm human beings, but the few bad actors who slip in undetected, like crack dealers polluting a good neighborhood, can make you really sick. And the city's water-treatment system is actually an enabler: It kills these thugs' natural predators and leaves them free to launch a drive-by on your immune system. 

Dr. Dunn does not go so far as to suggest we not bathe, but he'd like to see us change the shower head more often. He adds, however, that you'd be better off with untreated well water: It doesn't look as clean, but it contains the natural enforcers that put a hurt on the gangbangers. The "dead" water from your tap lacks these tiny DEA agents.

God tells Jeremiah that Judah has bad plumbing.

They had forsaken the Lord, the fountain of living water. One idea of "living water" was flowing water, because when water moves, various nasties have less opportunity to settle down. To stretch a point, we could also say that "living water" is water that has things living in it - those superhero species that bust the bad guys.  They capped the well of cleansing faith in the true God. Well, that was bad enough, but they went a step farther: The people had dug out cisterns, and cracked ones at that, choosing to douse themselves with the dead idolatry that bred festering and infectious sin. They slather themselves with religious offal and wonder why they're sick.

In our secular society, it sometimes seems that the harder we scrub, the dirtier we get. We hose down our culture with the antiseptic antidotes of ingenious schemes that, according to the math, should leave us squeaky clean. Instead, we find ourselves feverish with fear, fighting the persistent cough of our own insecurities. We plug the wells of faith that teem with eternal life and opt instead for the sparkling poison of our own plans.

In John 7.38 Jesus declares himself to be the source of living water who can dig in our souls the deep wells of spiritual prosperity. Perhaps it is time we changed the shower head and tuned our ears to catch the sound of abundance of rain.

Praise the Lord from the earth, ye dragons and all deeps. - Psalm 148.7

Whales sing. Loudly.

Toothed leviathans, like the mighty sperm whale, emit clicks and whistles, but humpbacks have actual tunes. Not only that, but they change them, inventing increasingly complex versions of a basic pattern. After a while, it appears, the latest hit drops from the top ten and they compose new melodies. Nobody quite knows why; since only males do it, it may be a way to woo chicks or assess the competition. Anyway, they really crank the volume. You can hear them through the hull of a boat. You can pick them up on headphones when the actual beast is nowhere in sight. 

Psalm 148 commands everything to praise God: angels get in on it, the heavenly bodies, weather, geography, animals and humans - from big-shots to nobodies and from old geezers to young whippersnappers. But right in the middle comes an admonition to the super-sized sea creatures. I don't know that the Hebrew word means "whale;" the New International Version translates it "great sea creatures" but how much fun is that? Still, they're the biggest thing we know about so the application fits.

Whatever the survival-of-the-fittest explanation, I like to think the whales sing to the glory of God. In fact, some humpbacks stick to the classics while others innovate, and the young folk have a completely different play-list. One can imagine dignified old whales grumping about the young folks' modern music while the millennials make jokes about tunes that date back to the Flood. 

We can learn a lot from the humpbacks: Sing God's praise! Sing it loudly! Sing sustaining hymns and exciting choruses. Change it up now and again just to keep your heart and mind engaged. Let everything that hath breath, praise the Lord!

Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding. 

- Job 38.4

"Where was God?"

It's a common and serious question for people of faith: Where was God when my child died? Where was God when terrorists bombed a Coptic Christian church in Egypt on Palm Sunday of 2017? Where was God when a tsunami engulfed the Sunda Strait in Indonesia and left fourteen thousand corpses bobbing in its backwash? 

Where was God?

It it, as I say, a common question and a serious one. Christians must face the problem of evil in the light of a God whom Scripture reveals as both all-powerful and all-loving. (Atheists have their own problem: They must deal with the problem of good. If there is no God, why prefer good to evil? How can one even define the difference? And why should good happen instead of evil?)

Gifted apologists have offered valid responses, but no answer ultimately satisfies. Take the case of Job: Yes, the Almighty eventually cuts the patriarch in for double-coupon days and wins a side-bet with Satan in the process, but that doesn't help much if you're one of Job's original ten offspring who perished in a freak tornado. (Or Mrs. Job, who, one presumes, had to go through an additional ten sessions of labor just to break even.) 

"Where was God?"

God never answers that question, the sum of all of Job's anguished inquiries into the chaos his life had become. Instead, the Lord upends the query and asks the same question of his servant: Where were you? "I've been at this God-thing for a long time, Job; indeed, for longer than time. I've kept the world between the ditches up to this point without any help from you. Where were you?"

It's an uncommon question, but a serious one. I want to ask where God was when something bad happened to me. God might want to ask me where I was when the same thing, and far worse things, happened to people all around the world, and all around me, every day of my life. Where was God? Well, being omnipresent, he was there, which is more than God can say for me.

A new year lies ahead. Predictions are perilous but there is at least one we can make with confidence. When a reporter asked the great capitalist J. P. Morgan for his forecast on the stock market the wily plutocrat opined, "Prices will fluctuate." My prognostication for 2019 is that outcomes will fluctuate: There will be plenty of great moments, and plenty of "Where was God?" moments. 

When tempted to ask, "Where was God?" I think I may resort to Job 38.4. Where was I? Where am I? Where am I willing to be? And I think that when I get there, I'll find God has been waiting for me all along.