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Let It Go – What if He did?

We used to be told in the nursery that if a man were to bore a hole through the centre of the earth and climb continually down and down, there would come a moment at the centre when he would seem to be climbing up and up…

…Whereas to the normal eye the large masonry of its walls or the massive foundations of its watchtowers and its high citadel would make it seem safer and more permanent, the moment it was turned over the very same weight would make it seem more helpless and more in peril. It is but a symbol; but it happens to fit the psychological fact. St. Francis might love his little town as much as before, or more than before; but the nature of the love would be altered even in being increased. He might see and love every tile on the steep roofs or every bird on the battlements; but he would see them all in a new and divine light of eternal danger and dependence. Instead of being merely proud of his strong city because it would not be moved, he would be thankful to God Almighty that it had not be dropped…

-G.K. Chesterton, St. Francis of Assisi, p. 87

Chesterton sees the humiliation of Francis (that is, his becoming humble before God) as a parable; perhaps even as an allegory. As he went down, down, down he began to go up, up, up. He began to see the world from the perspective of God, or at least from a godly perspective. The great weight of society was no longer reason to boast, but reason for dependence. What if all that weight were dropped and came crashing down?

He really does have the whole world in his hands – in its entirety and in its parts. Should he choose to let go, then all of that mass goes crumbling down. Hence, the heavier we are, the more we should take heed lest we fall. This was the entire point of Jonathan Edwards’ famous sermon, Sinners in the Hand of an Angry God. If the Lord does not hold our hand, in due time we shall slip and fall.

We must humble ourselves – go down, down, down – if we are to rise up as satellites and see the world as it actually is. We must become small enough to see the bigness of the world, and therefore the power of the God who upholds it, and his grace not to let it go.

All Things for Good?

I often marvel at creation. I am amazed that I am privileged to be a part of this part of the tilt-a-whirl that we call Earth. I’ve seen a beautiful bride, who I in no way deserved to marry, walking down the aisle with her eyes on me of all people. I’ve seen the birth of two beautiful daughters. I’ve seen God’s wonders in my own life and the lives of others around me. And I’ve seen darkness. I’ve seen friends suffer. I’ve felt my own pain.

In the past month and a half I have seen my father’s last remaining brother die. We have had a miscarriage. My youngest daughter has broken her arm. And a dear, dear friend (and congregant) is in the hospital with double pneumonia.

All the while I have been preaching through Romans 8. And, lo and behold, I find myself in verse 28:

  • Romans 8:28 ¶ And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.

I had a rough day at work today. That rough day was capped off by my fifth straight day visiting the hospital. My friend’s pneumonia has not gotten better. My soul aches for her. I usually leave hospitals finding myself encouraged by the faith of those whom I visit. But tonight was tough.

Then I drove home. I walked in the door and looked at my beautiful children, one with a full length arm cast. They were watching the movie Madeline. I came home just in time to hear Louis Armstrong singing,

I see trees of green,
red roses too.
I see them bloom,
for me and you.
And I think to myself,
what a wonderful world.

I see skies of blue,
And clouds of white.
The bright blessed day,
The dark sacred night.
And I think to myself,
What a wonderful world.

And I thought to myself, ‘Is it really?’

Like all other Americans, I watched in horror as the pictures came in from Oklahoma just days ago. I’ve read stories in the past week about Gosnell’s murder-mill, about a man who tricked his girlfriend into taking a pill that would kill their unborn child, and about the precious lives of children lost in Oklahoma. And I ask myself, ‘Is it really wonderful?’

It is, and it’s not.

That’s the only conclusion one can come to. We do see tress of green and red roses too. We do see them bloom for me and for you. But we also see dead trees and shriveled roses. We see thorns and briars. We see cancer and calamity. Over the same ocean we see both hurricanes and sunsets. And each, the good and the bad, leaves its own distinct impression upon the soul.

In the extreme, we have billionaires living lives of posh luxury and children dying of hunger in the Sudan. In the mundane, in our normal experience, we have good days and bad days. We have wonderful days and terrible days. This world, and our lives are a mass of contradictions – birth and death, childhood and adulthood, love and loss, sunshine and storms, wrath and grace.  Our lives are wonderful and our lives are terrible.

But that’s not only the story of our lives, it is the story of Jesus Christ. We find our own story in his. In his life we see hunger, thorns, nails, the spear and the cross. But then there’s that pesky empty tomb. There’s him ascending into heaven with the promise, ‘Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.’ We see pain and death, we see resurrection in glory.

I tire of the endless platitudes – ‘it’ll all work out’, ‘everything happens for a reason’, ‘things will work out in the end.’ Give me someone with some real bones in their body, who will say, ‘life is horrible, and life is beautiful.’ It is both, and thank God it is both, because God is working all things together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose.

Outside of Christ you have no reason to think it will work out. Inside of Christ, the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly, the magnificent and the horrific – all of it – is being woven together into a story in which the climax is this: Your Savior will look at you and see someone like himself. We will be like Jesus.

  • Romans 8:29 For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. 30 And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified.

There are no promises that it will all work out in this life. It might not. As my old pastor used to say, ‘Reverend Ike is dead.’ Indeed, he is. And we will die as well. But is the ugly the end of the story? If you want streets of gold now like Benny Hinn, then good luck. If anyone tells you that there is hope outside of the resurrection – Christ’s and ours, then they have already received their reward. Your best life now means that the life to come will not be quite so pleasant.

If you want all things to work together, then embrace all things. Let the black be black and let the rainbow be the rainbow, so long as, at the end of the day, you behold my Savior, and see him as he is, and find yourself  to be like him.

  • 1 John 3:2 Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we will be like him, because we shall see him as he is.

There’s hope for you. There and only there.

  • Habakkuk 3:17 Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, 18 yet I will rejoice in the LORD; I will take joy in the God of my salvation.