It
was a dark and stormy night in Waco. My favorite kind of night. After an
afternoon full of grading papers my mind needed a break and I bethought I should
take my nightly constitutional, as is my custom. The distant peel of thunder
had been rumbling in the evening air like ten thousand tympani, but I reckoned
I could take my promenade afore the heavens would open. When, however, I flung
open the door, there had come soft rains dressing the earth in glistening
garments and washing the air of stifling Texan humidity. I yearned to luxuriate
in the blessed coolness, but hesitated to venture into the precipitation.
Finally, I snatched the umbrella by the door and sallied forth.
As
I am wont to do, I fired up my nearly defunct Ipod and selected a sermon by
Major Ian Thomas to edify my mind and nourish my spirit as I exercised my body
and refreshed my soul. Lightning and thunder provided accompaniment to MIT’s
wise words about Mary and David’s perfect hearts towards the Lord. After
reaching and circumnavigating the Garden of Contentment, I removed my earphones
and sang a rousing rendition of “Singin’ in the Rain” as the inclement weather
alternately gnashed its teeth and spat bright power across the skies. Returning
the earbuds to my ears I resumed the sermon and directed my steps toward home.
As
a native Oregonian born in England, I come by my hearty appreciation for rainy
weather honestly. As I sashayed through the soaked sidewalks on Baylor’s
deserted campus, I tipped and twirled the umbrella to expose my face to the
sprinkles. As MIT discussed the simplicity of letting God be God, I ruminated
on the necessity of the umbrella in keeping the rain off me. I minded not a
good wetting, though my glasses adorned my face and my garb was ill-suited for
daring the elements. However, I collapsed the umbrella and welcomed the falling
blessings. The thought occurred to me that I was preventing the beneficent
weather from bathing me in its enervating and soothing caresses, which informed
my eventual decision to eschew the protection of the umbrella.
This
idea also occurred to me in a spiritual avenue; namely, that too often
believers (or at least, I) beg and plead for the blessings of heaven to shower
down upon us when it also seems like we throw up blockades or protectors to
shield us from the very blessings we implore. And before I postulate on why
this might be so, let me defend this assertion.
In
my life, for the last decade or so I have undergone trial after tribulation
after disappointment after privation. From physical ailments that continue to
inflict themselves upon me, to financial poverty which nags at me like a
blister in my sole, to indecision and anxiety about the future, to the
discovery of dear friends only to lose their presence again, my heart has been
battered and torn, sick and blind, lifted high and brought low. Consequently,
these last ten or so years constitute the greatest gain in spiritual maturity
and devotion to God I have ever experienced in my life. Too many blessings have
been lavished upon me, too many dear relationships developed, too many chains
struck off, too much freedom gained in every facet of my life to even begin to
elucidate here (though a thorough examination of my blog will give some
indication). Regardless, the Lord has been exceedingly gracious, loving, kind,
and good towards me, and I know that I have no idea just how gracious,
merciful, kind, and loving He has truly been. Even so, I am greedy for more. I
want to see my own failings and predilections toward sin completely eradicated.
I want to find new and deeper relationships with people, or deepen those ones
that have become immensely dear and important to me. I want to conquer my
self-condemnation in regards to body image and pharisaical legalism, so that I
might be freer to love and serve Jesus. I want to see miracles, to participate
in wonders, to impact other peoples’ lives in dramatic ways. And for all these
things I pray.
But
I wonder how serious I am. Because the blessings of God are not always what we
want and how we want them.
When
I considered collapsing the umbrella and letting the rain pour down on me, I
had to consider that my glasses would become wet, making visibility an issue. I
would become drenched (though the rain was not yet very vigorous as it soon
would be), which on a cool night might lead to catching a cold. These may seem
like frivolous and inconsequential considerations, but arise they did in my
mind, and I had to accept the possibility of consequences and discomfort in
order to experience the blessing.
And
herein lies the application to myself as a believer (as may also apply to a
great many others). The blessing of God entails not just the fulfillment of our
desires and longings (if even that); with it comes the imperative that we
should submit our lives, our fortunes, our hearts and wills to the dictatorship
(benign though it certainly is) of the Holy Spirit. Elijah was a mighty prophet
of the Lord, but he also lived in solitude and loneliness on a Spartan diet in
the wilderness, had to face down a murderous king and a hostile crowd, and
suffer the rejection of communicating the Lord’s displeasure and censure of
Israel. Paul and the apostles all met rather unpleasant ends after enduring
innumerable hardships for the sake of Christ even as they performed miracles
and saw the spread of the Gospel around the Roman empire. All down through the
ages, those who have been used by God to move mountains and level armies, to
reform ecclesiastical corruption and defy oppressive governments, have usually
endured strong persecution and rejection at the hands of those they attempt to
minister to. And certainly no one better exemplifies this concept than the Lord
Jesus Christ Himself, who raised the dead and walked on water, who calmed
storms with a word and conquered demons with a stern voice, who restored sight
to the blind and hope to the wretched, yet suffered for the sin of all mankind
even as he was tortured to death on a Roman cross, despised and rejected by His
chosen people, betrayed by his disciple and condemned by the priests who
claimed to serve God better than anyone.
The
upshot is: receiving blessings from God may be more than I bargain for. And I
think that subconsciously I sense that, which is why I’m still hesitant to
throw aside the umbrella protecting me from full exposure to the reckless
raging fury that Rich Mullins called the love of God, the wild and unpredictable
Spirit that might impose strictures on things I would be loath to relinquish,
or to sacrifice my pride, my money, my time, my dignity, or my body in ways I
would find difficult to accept. To abandon myself to God’s will entirely might
mean walking away from my cherished dreams and ambitions of being a college
professor and writer. It might mean a life of chastity, of never capturing the
love of a woman and attaining a Godly wife. It might mean humbling myself to
live in places I would not want to live, to do things I would not want to do,
to resign myself to never losing weight and having a physique I can be proud
of. It might mean, in short, the death of myself. How far will I dare to die,
that Christ might live in me? Will I take up my cross in spirit as well as
truth? Will I suffer the cold, the temporal tragedies and tribulations that
total devotion and submission to the Father’s will might entail?
It
occurs to me (and perhaps this is of diabolic origin) that taking the bitter
with the better when it comes to receiving God’s blessing is rather unfair.
After all, isn’t God good? Doesn’t He love us and want what’s best for us?
Shouldn’t we expect His blessings since we are now His (adopted) children,
co-heirs with Jesus, declared the righteousness of God in Christ, inhabited by
the Spirit, priests and temples all in one? Why is God making unreasonable
demands of us like the complete annihilation of our own desires and ambitions?
Surely they can’t be all bad, can
they? I fully intend to teach college students literature in a way that pleases
and glorifies God, and to write about things that will direct people towards a
deeper contemplation of Him. Why would God not want that to happen? Why would
He not give us what we ask for? Doesn’t the Bible say that all we have to do is
ask (John 14:13-14)?
In
order to answer this, I turn a retrospective eye to my journey to grad school
in Waco. I had contemplated continuing on for my Ph.D. while still at Truman
getting my M.A. in English. I decided against that and moved to Kansas City.
After several failed attempts at making it in the professional world, I again
began to consider making another run at doctoral programs, eventually deciding
to apply in 2010. I applied to five schools, all of whom rejected me. I applied
again to five in 2011, throwing in Baylor as mostly an afterthought. I’d met a
girl who went here and spoke well of the school, though she was not a grad
student nor an English major. After four of the five rejected me again, I
resigned myself that the Lord was closing this particular door. I had a job
that paid well, even if I hated it, and friends and a church home I enjoyed,
especially those from the small group I attended for several years. I sincerely
surrendered the situation to the Lord and began contemplating my next move when
Baylor finally rejected my application.
They,
of course, did not, and even offered a few extra dollars to help come here. An
absolute criteria for acceptance was a fellowship that covered tuition, which
was also offered. The Lord provided. I accepted, lost the cushy job in Kansas
City, and moved down to Waco, away from any and all connections for the first
time in my life (even in Kansas City, I had an uncle in town, and my parents a
mere 3 hours away).
Had
the Lord not deferred my desire to go on to grad school for six years, I would
not have had the experiences in Kansas City that I did, the immense growth in
maturity and spiritual development that the events and people there provided. I
would not have found my brother Caleb, a mentor in Uncle Eric, my theological
sparring partner Boen, my dear friends Seth and Mayberry, or my capacity for
worship at New Day and spiritual nourishment from Lloyd Rindels. Had I been
accepted to Oregon as I devoutly hoped and not gone to Baylor, I would have
missed out on the wonderful relationships I have developed here, like Andy or
Jeremy Larson. Had I not been required to tutor for a year instead of teaching
right away and not been assigned to the Athletic Writing Center, I would not
have made three friends who have become incredibly dear to me: Ingrid, Daniel,
and Christine. Had I not been constantly teetering on the brink of financial
insolvency, I would not have seen the Lord bless me through others, most
notably Jeremy Larson.
All
these things have been blessings from the Lord, and all of these blessings have
involved situations that have tested my patience, faith, and sanity at various times
and in various measure. This seems to be the way the Lord operates, and
reflects a major pattern in human experience, that the success is that much
sweeter because of the possibility of or the previous reality of failure. In
this fallen world, pain is a part of pleasure or at the very least serves to
enhance pleasure by contrast.
What
is the conclusion of all this rambling? What you take from this is your
business. As for me, I see the pattern, the blessing of the Lord that comes
from the midst of pain and suffering, from trials and tribulations. I believe
that even greater blessings await me, and if I must walk through thorny paths
to reach them, I am resolved so to do. You may avoid pain and discomfort by
shielding yourself from the full force of God’s will, but you will also shield
yourself from experiencing His full blessing and promise and Presence. The
choice is yours.
