Sometimes thoughts are connected, but not linear; sometimes they follow a pattern, yet are not cyclic. Thoughts can weave together as several threads, individually simple but creating a patterned tapestry that is difficult to grasp. This incomprehensibility, I believe, comes from the fact that our focus can rarely raise above our thoughts—our thoughts occupy the level of our understanding—and as from the vantage point of the tapestry itself the overall pattern can't be realized, so it is with our thoughts; the tapestry they form can only be comprehended from some point above the plane of thoughts. In the same way, a person walking through a forest is unable to glimpse the patterned complexity of woods and fields and streams and peaks that the terrain forms in the eyes of a heavenly observer. I say this only to illustrate that while my partial description of the thoughts that follow this introduction may not grant a clear picture of the truths upon which they are woven, they are nevertheless part of a pattern, part of a portrait, that probably can't be understood by considering the thoughts themselves—for they point to or describe a deeper truth. After all, what these thoughts consider is God; I think many of our misconceptions of God come from latching on to one train of thought and following that thread to try to understand Him, instead of realizing that any single thought about God is but one strand in the tapestry portraying Him (I say "portraying" because it's important to realize that all our thoughts about God, even if they are considered perfectly together, do not encompass Him). As a single blue thread tells us next to nothing about the storm-swept ocean scene it helps to form, so a single thought about God—say, the truth that He is merciful—can at times fall short of helping us see God.
Anyway, after that ungainly introduction follows a probably equally ungainly progression of thoughts—which do not, actually, progress one from another but sit side by side, one atop another, crossing and supporting and contrasting one another. None of these thoughts are particularly rare; without thinking too carefully before I say this, I think that none of them are new thoughts for me. But perhaps they have taken a new emphasis as they are visited again, or perhaps I see them more clearly when viewed with their accompanying thoughts.
First thought; so, I was driving back to Auburn from Birmingham a couple nights ago, and I was thinking of my relationship with God. Note: thinking about your relationship with God is in itself not necessarily a good thing—it is the act of relating to, abiding, loving God that we are called to, and often merely thinking about it can take the place of relating within it. Then again, thinking about the relationship can lead to a better understanding of how we should relate…regardless of whether my thinking was a good or bad or neutral thing, I was doing it. And I was thinking mainly of growth, or the lack of it. In particular, I believe that as I listened to praise songs and remembered how I've responded to them in the past, I wondered whether I was closer or further from God than I was, say, three years ago. Now, forget the doctrinal issues of whether or not a Christian can be any closer or further from God, as he is in Christ and Christ is in him…my purpose here isn't theological. The point is my thoughts that tended towards an awareness that my only consistency seems to be a continual inconsistency; I was somewhat frustrated—this is a common theme—at how I am not satisfied with where I am spiritually, how with everything God has done for, through, to, and around me I should be so much more continually on fire for Him. And I know how this belief falls short of reality, and I know where it springs from reality. It is both untrue and it's indicative of what is true…in any case, God has shown me countless times before that regardless of where I fall short, He always measures up; He is faithful, even when I am not. And I knew this even as I lamented my faithlessness, that regardless of mistakes, shortcomings, and downright disobedience, God works through and for me consistently and successfully. But a chord was definitely struck when Matt Redman's song "You never let go" came on. Really, it's just the truth described in that title…that though our grip is transient at best, His is eternal. It was quite an encouraging reminder, even though it's something I was already aware of, which is often the case. That's really one of the most peace-giving realizations of all, to me at least; that we are in God's Hand not because we hopped up there, but because He plucked us up and holds on.
I remember when this first struck me powerfully; spring of freshman year at a church retreat. I was out on a hillside after communion, and rather appropriately communing with God. And I had many subtle anxieties at the time, mostly based on the understanding that, whatever I thought about myself, my character and integrity were flawed. That, no matter how I tended to view myself, I was ultimately untrustworthy; that in the end I could not be counted on in any real way. This bothered me, because of course our human nature wants to be in charge of our actions and future…but once we see that on our own we can't be depended on, that there is some sort of spiritual law of gravity that demands we will always fall short of soaring on our own wings, we see that our future—and to a degree, even our present actions—are not under our own control. It's a pretty basic Christian truth, all about God's sovereignty as well as man's sin nature, all that stuff…but when the realization beyond the concepts sinks into someone who fancies himself able to do good, someone who values himself based upon his understanding of his own integrity, that leads to discomfort to say the least. Well anyway, my prayer to God this night at the retreat was simple: "Lord, are You pleased with me?" God, of course, heard the un-prayed question that I was too much of a coward to put into words at the time; it went something like this: "Lord, it's apparent that my integrity is incomplete; that ultimately, I fall short and can't be trusted. How, then, can I be trusted to follow You? If my character is flawed and I cannot be depended on to be faithful to You, how can I be sure I will never turn away from You? What assurance is there that my salvation is safe, if at any time I may ultimately fail?" This was beyond the doctrine of "once saved, always saved;" this was experiential and relational, which in every genuine case trumps mere doctrine. Anyway, God's response was very memorable; first, He assured me that yes, aware as He was of all my shortcomings, He was nevertheless quite pleased with me. Then, He proceeded to answer my unasked question. He said that yes, I was ultimately untrustworthy; He spoke to the awareness I had that if my salvation depended on me holding on to Him, then yes, I would be in danger. But He said that it was not the quality of my integrity that bound me to Him…it was the integrity of the Blood of Christ that formed and assured our relationship.
Anyway, that thought was revisited through the simple words, "You never let go;" for it's the same idea, that no matter our circumstances, no matter our doubts, no matter our mistakes, one thing (at the very least) we can be confident of is this; when God grabs hold, He never lets go.
A few minutes later, while I was still considering this, the sound "Hammer Holds" came on. Now, that song is amazing, and there are many directions in which my thoughts can go when I hear it. But combining the understanding that God never will let go with the metaphor within this song brought new emphasis to the picture. The picture is of God as a smith, forming a life according to His purpose…how though it might be painful to the life formed, and though the piece of work's opinion is not asked or considered, the purpose is ultimately and purely good. God holds the hammer, we are shaped by its intentional blows—not out of punishment or mean spiritedness, but for a purpose above our understanding yet just barely touching our appreciation. So the song to me places emphasis on God's purposes, obviously, but combined with the other song that said He never lets go, this becomes a very comforting thing. For God doesn't begin a work and then discard it ("He that begins a good work in you will see it to completion), but rather applies His masterful touch, with patience and without error, working the impurities out of our composition and form. It is not only (just primarily) for the sake of His plans that we are so shaped; it is also so that we can be presented as a finished work that brings satisfaction to God and also us.
These two thoughts fit well with the "My Utmost for His Highest" devotion for August 4th, which happened to be the one I read the next morning. This devotion focuses on how God chooses to trust those who don't have anything to offer, who have no value in and of themselves. In fact, it is for this very reason that God chooses them (think 2 Cor 12:10, in my weakness is Christ made strong), because those who understand that there is nothing of independent value in them are able to live for His purposes and not their own. Oswald says it better: "It is not a question of our equipment but of our poverty, not of what we bring with us, but of what God puts into us; not a question of natural virtues of strength of character, knowledge, and experience - all that is of no avail in this matter…The comradeship of God is made up out of men who know their poverty. He can do nothing with the man who thinks that he is of use to God." We think far too highly of what we can do for God, rather than submitting to what He is seeking to do through and in and around us. Since God is holding the hammer and shaping us according to His purposes, our interests (misguided as they tend to be) can get in the way. And yet, He never lets go…He crushes those obstinacies out of us. There's more in this thought than I'm touching right now, but this has already gotten too long. Anyway, this thought leads on to the next one.
As Oswald says in the same day's devotion, God's purposes won't really ever be well known to us; in spite of that, we must commit fully to our relationship with Him. It seems to me that we often fail to see that our commitment can (and in many cases, should) be greater than our knowledge. I think this is a problem in the human relationships played out in our culture. Take marriage for example: divorces happen usually because of a lack of commitment; when knowledge is the bellwether, the standard, then relationships are less than permanent. For invariably there will be things we learn about someone else that we don't like. When Knowledge overshadows Commitment, then people forget that these disliked qualities don't matter in the least. If Commitment is the standard and the focus, then whatever is learned about the other person merely colors the relationship—it cannot end it. If we cannot learn to commit fully, even when we lack "sufficient" knowledge, then we can never enter into a marriage of the sort the Bible and our wedding ceremonies speaks of—a permanent covenant, the joining of two into one that should not be struck asunder, the "till death do us part" commitment. Or take it one step back from marriage into dating; I think one of the major dangers in dating, that recent cultural invention of ours, is that it emphasizes "getting to know" one another, rather than teaching about commitment. The biblical model of preparing for marriage also includes learning…but it is an impartation from father to son, from mother to daughter, instructing the young person in what marriage means and what commitment it requires. Anything else is unnecessary fluff. Knowledge of the other person is completely unnecessary for a successful marriage; this is one reason why arranged marriages are so much more successful than American ones (and they tend to be happy marriages, to, regardless of our American incapability of comprehending that). That's not to say such knowledge is a necessarily bad thing…but when it becomes the standard and the impetus, it most certainly is.
This correction, that commitment should overshadow and even guide knowledge, is of importance in human relationships; even more, though, it's a correction we should make in our relationship with God. As Oswald notes above, even though we don't see God's reasons, we should remain absolutely committed to our relationship with Him. If Commitment is the deciding factor, then what doubts can truly assail our relationship with Him? We may have doubts as to our knowledge of Him…regardless, the commitment holds unwavering. We may wonder at His mercy, at His justice, at His purposes, at His means, at His fairness (a different concept than justice), at His ministers, even at His Word or His Love…yet in spite of those doubts that concern our knowledge of Him, if commitment is what compels us, we remain surrendered and in touch with His Spirit. Brother Lawrence, in "The Practice of the Presence of God," spoke of doubts he had for a long time as to the atonement for his own sins. He knew he was a sinner, and feared that nothing he could do could make up for them (in this, he was right, as it takes Christ to do so, which Lawrence understood on one level). So for a long time he wondered to God whether he would in fact end up in Heaven or Hell…his knowledge was assaulted by doubts. And yet, he once had this realization: that he loved God, and was committed to Him regardless of anything else. Nothing could change his commitment to his Heavenly Father, no matter whether his eternal destination was Heaven or Hell—even if he knew he would go to Hell, it would not affect his commitment to God. He would continue to love and serve Him. Once Lawrence realized this, the next step was to understand that with that kind of love and commitment, his place was with God, Who would not let him be separated from His Presence in Heaven. It was not Brother Lawrence's knowledge that assured him of a place with the Father, but his commitment.
Likewise, for us, it is not what we know of God that determines our relationship with Him; if that were the case, how many fringe (and mainstream) denominations would be in dire trouble? No, though we must believe certain things about Christ in order to enter into relationship with the Father, the faith that saves is a matter of commitment to Christ's Name, not an understanding of His Nature (for even the demons believe…and shudder). This is not to say that this commitment depends on us, that if we waver in our commitment we are in danger of damnation. For, as I've already mentioned, it is God Who holds the Hammer, and He never lets go.
Furthermore, it is not what we bring, but what He places in us, as Oswald Chambers says. We are grasped by Him, and what commitment we can muster is but a transient response to the eternal commitment a timeless God has to those who are in His Son.
I seem to have tried to force these thoughts together, and perhaps have only managed to tie them in knots; nevertheless, those ideas from such individuals as Bebo Norman and Oswald Chambers are but a small part of the tapestry of which our thoughts and lives are a part. I guess that offers a similar metaphor on a higher order to "Hammer Holds:" God holds the tread, weaving it according to His good purposes; it's not just a single life He shapes with His masterful touch, but all of Creation.
