The Buoy and the Bookshelf

A good friend recently asked me this question: Which inanimate object best describes your faith right now?

Interesting question, right? I have to say though – It was the one in a litany of rather unusual questions that I insisted on answering to myself.

In response to a recent sermon and subsequent staff blogs on biblical womanhood, I’ve frequently wondered about my stance… err, position in the matter. Not necessarily my opinions on what was said, but rather where I fell on the spectrum between what God desires and well, to be frank, what’s easiest for me. Spiritual disciplines, active prayer life, authentic and deep community… These are all good things. But when it comes down to contentment and control, where do I stand?

I think Jennifer made some great points when alluding to the mums in her garden. (See her blog here: http://frontlinetysons.com/2010/08/biblical-womanhood-digging-past-the-numbness/) There are things we can dig at and think we’ve uprooted, only to later see that we’ve merely scratched the surface. And, there are times we face numbness as a personal necessity for carrying on, only to realize we’ve anesthetized ourselves far longer than we ever intended. The way I see it, is it’s kind of like a buoy. When pain, discomfort, loneliness, etc. head our way, we grab onto the life preserver of ignorance and numbness, hoping the wave will roll over us and a “mercy will be new in the morning.” Let’s be honest though, sometimes it seems like many mornings before we really feel like mercy is new, right? The problem with the buoy is that the longer we cling to it, the less it really serves its purpose. What was once the thing that sustained us, will be the very place of our demise if we’re there too long. For a life preserver is exactly that… A preserver… It’s not a sustainer, and when we cling to the comfort of not feeling, we experience deadness and, naturally, distance. I’m merely repeating many before me when I note that the places of our numbness are not just places that don’t feel pain, but also places that don’t access joy. Numbness is not a fruit of the spirit, but joy is… So, what does that tell me about the pursuit of pain?

Pain is an indication that something’s not quite right. Locate its source and you can begin to deal with the problem. I guess my problem is that I treat my sources of pain like books on a shelf… Things that can be picked up and studied for a time, but can easily be put back on the shelf when time, other interests, or something better, maybe even less painful, comes along. The problem with pain is not that exists, but that it persists. In humanness, we are powerless to fight it. Things die at the cross, but if we won’t make the pilgrimage to get them there then they live in the village of our heart long after they should. For too long, we’ve shelved our pains and run after something prettier, even something “godlier.” No one stops us because what is godly is good and begs no questioning to those on the periphery. I’d be the first to agree that we shouldn’t dwell in the pain, but we also shouldn’t leave before we’re called. Pain grows its roots strong and deep… And, for certain situations, it even takes the liberty of wrapping its torturous tendrils around our hearts. Cutting down the tree doesn’t rid us of the remnants. It merely gives us a stump that tempts us to believe we’re not the new creation God promised us we were in 2 Corinthians.

In Psalm 84:6 it says, “When they walk through the Valley of Tears, it will become a place of refreshing springs.” See, here we’re shown that the very place of our longsuffering, can be the source of our renewal as well. I type with agreement in my head, though my heart understands, as it has witnessed in previous trials, that this might be a thousand times harder than it sounds. Regardless of its difficulty, we know that pain and suffering are seeds of transformation. Transformation is what God desires. I have to wonder if he sees our tears and knows that if we’re willing to stand in them, then we’ll be that promised new creation. I have to think that transformation is a foundation of biblical womanhood, which therefore means that pain and trial must be preludes to the finished product. Can I find contentment in the process of transformation and can I relinquish control in order that God can complete his good works in me? The verse prior to Psalm 84:6 says, “What joy for those whose strength comes from the Lord, who have set their minds on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem.” As biblical people, we are in the midst of our travels to Jerusalem… Where will we find our strength? Where will our minds be set? Will we continue to the cross with joy in hearts, knowing that we are being transformed and, simultaneously upheld, by the steady pounding of our feet upon the dirt path of a worthwhile journey?

My Ephraim, My Double Fruit

Sometimes, I’m frustrated when I miss seeing an easy and obvious parallel. I value being able to see what’s before me very quickly and; thus, coming to an understanding of what I think God might be up to as a result. Inasmuch as Russia was a rich experience filled with opportunities to be challenged by God in ways unexpected and, frankly, undesired, I confess that I nearly missed the comprehension of blessing, of fruit in the midst of surviving the struggle. I grew satisfied with enduring and forgot that fruit was often rendered from this blessed endurance. I saw the forest and the mountain and all the while blessing laid quietly on the ground below.

The interesting thing about my time in the Russian wilderness is that it made me so uncomfortable. In the metro DC area, I don’t often dabble in the neighborhood of being unprepared, unequipped, or in need. I am more comfortable with dispensing than receiving, with knowing than asking, with making a way than being shown a way. Throughout the week or so spent in the wild about six hours outside of Saint Petersburg, I spent much time running through the forest, wandering its paths and navigating its steep and overgrown terrain. Every night we would convene around the campfire for dinner and eventually for club and every night I would see several of the kids with these cups full of fresh strawberries and blueberries. Curious as to their origin (and admittedly in need of something to eat that wasn’t buckwheat), I finally asked where everyone was getting the berries from. And gently I was told that they were all around, I just had to pick them. All around? I had traversed nearly every stretch of this terrain and had never seen the first berry. I saw trees, I saw grass, and I saw weeds. But, the next day, as I slowed down and finally ceased my rushing through this wilderness place, I saw that they were exactly right. Covering the forest floor, in what I perceived were weeds, were tiny little plants with harvests of strawberries and blueberries… I had been running by and through this fruit all week… I had been so engaged in quickly trying to exit the wilderness that I almost missed the fruit the whole time.

It reminds me of a story I’ve read several times and then came across again shortly after returning. The story of Joseph being sold into slavery, only to eventually be placed in a position of power in Egypt, is one of the great redemptive tales told in the bible. There are many layers to the story, but the one that applies here comes from the birthing and naming of his two sons: Manasseh and Ephraim. Manasseh meaning “God has made me forget entirely all my suffering and family” and Ephraim meaning “God has blessed me in the land of my affliction” or, as Strong’s concordance specifies, “Double Fruit”. Joseph recognized that despite his position in the land of his personal suffering, that God had given him fruit, double fruit, as a blessing in the midst of his wilderness experience. We may tarry in our compliance to enter our wilderness place, but we should not fail to understand that blessing always follows obedience.

It’s really no surprise to me that I might rush through a wilderness if at all possible. I mean, there are mountaintops to get to and, seriously, who wants trial when summit is the destiny? But, what I witnessed was evidence of so much… that there is still fruit in the wilderness, that rushing through a struggle may bear no fruit at all, and that, in the spirit of Calvin, it’s not just about going promptly, it’s also about going sincerely. Brevity in the midst of trials should not be our end goal. Though quickly exiting the tolls of discomfort is quite appealing, we cannot neglect that there is gain for us in the wilderness just as there is blessing for us in the times of triumph. What I see in the story of Joseph is a heightened recognition of blessed reception and glorious redemption because of his coordinates in the land of his affliction. We may often fail to recognize God’s provision in the day to day, but we surely do not fail to bear witness when provision occurs in our moments of lack. As such, I may have had difficulty understanding that there was fruit, true fruit in the wild landscape I was attempting to endure, but through the process of becoming slow and deliberate in the land of challenge and difficulty my cup was filled and double fruit rendered as a result.