The Folly of Umbrellas

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.