Ridiculosity

Through a series of fortunate circumstances, I recently discovered a collection of Puritan prayers in a book entitled The Valley of Vision: A Collection of Puritan Prayers & Devotions. The power of these prayers–though humble and unadorned–rivals the elegant and painstakingly crafted catechisms of the early church, and both now have a welcome niche in my thought-life. Today I’d like to share my favorite here, entitled “Belonging to Jesus.”

O HEAVENLY FATHER,
Teach me to see
that if Christ has pacified Thee and satisfied divine justice,
He can also deliver me from my sins;
that Christ does not desire me, now justified,
to live in self-confidence and in my own strength,
but gives me the law of the Spirit of Life, to enable me to obey Thee;
that the Spirit and His power are mine by resting on Christ’s  death;
that the Spirit of Life within answers to the law without;
that if I sin not I should thank Thee for it;
that if I sin I should be humbled daily under it;
that I should mourn for sin more than other men do,
for when I see I shall die because of sin that makes me mourn;
when I see how sin strikes at Thee, that makes me mourn;
when I see that sin caused Christ’s death, that makes me mourn;
that sanctification is the evidence of reconciliation,
proving that faith has truly apprehended Christ;
Thou hast taught me
that faith is nothing else than receiving Thy kindness;
that it is an adherence to Christ, a resting on Him,
love clinging to Him as a branch to the tree, to seek life and vigour from Him.
I thank Thee for showing me the vast difference between knowing things by reason,
and knowing them by the spirit of faith.
By reason I see a thing is so; by faith I know it as it is.
I have seen Thee by reason and have not been amazed,
I have seen Thee as Thou art in the Son and have been ravished to behold Thee!
I bless Thee that I am Thine in my Savior, Jesus.

If you have kids, you inevitably have to deal with it. Call it what you will: the bogeyman, the dark, monsters under the bed. Fear plays a big role in kids’ lives. Eventually they reach a point where they’re conscious that we’re not OK and things can go wrong, and that’s scary.

At our house, it shows up around bedtime every night. “Daddy, I don’t want to be alone,” says my four-year-old daughter. I always explain that we are all in our home and it’s a safe place. Nothing can harm us when we’re here. I also point out that I will always do everything in my power to protect her, and that God tells us that he is always watching over us.

As I thought about that child-like, “irrational” fear, I realized that we never really gets rid of it. No matter how old we are, we always struggle with some kind of fear.  What we need to remember is that we are in a safe place. Our father is always watching over us and he will do everything in his power to protect us.

Have you ever observed a skilled craftsman practice his trade? Someone like a woodworker who is highly experienced in his craft has worked for years as an apprentice and a journeyman to earn the title “master.”

Recently, as I sat in traffic on my commute home from work, I watched several drivers zipping down the shoulder to get ahead of other drivers as a red light turned green. Those of us who were patient and law-abiding had to wait a bit longer while these renegades incorporated themselves into the traffic ahead.

In addition to making me annoyed, that got me thinking. Why shouldn’t I do that too? What does it matter? I would arrive home a few minutes earlier and what are these poor saps going to do about it? Crash into me?

I continued that thread, answering my own questions. I don’t do the “right thing” behind the wheel because it’s the law and I’m afraid I’ll get a ticket, or because I’m a goody two-shoes, or even because I necessarily care what other drivers think about my actions. I do the right thing because as a driver I want to be the best I can be–even if it means driving a little slower, waiting a little longer, or showing a little more courtesy. This sounds a little lame, but bear with me here: when it comes to the “craft” of driving, I want to be a master.

As I pondered these things, I recalled something I read in the book Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality:

…I realized I was not alone in my surroundings. I’m not talking about ghosts or angels or anything; I’m talking about other people. As silly as it sounds, I realized … that other people had feelings and fears and that my interactions with them actually meant something, that I could make them happy or sad in the way that I associated with them. Not only could I make them happy or sad, but I was responsible for the way I interacted with them. I suddenly felt responsible. I was supposed to make them happy. I was not supposed to make them sad. (p. 9)

Donald Miller has neatly defined narcissism for us. At best, narcissism sees other people as means to an egocentric end. At worst, other people are simply obstacles to be overcome in achieving that end. It describes, I think, a great deal about the human condition. It explains why people do things the way they do: drive, serve, vote, worship, talk, consume goods, … on and on. Our human nature, left unchecked, demands that we look out for number one above all else, even if the result casts away the opportunity to make a positive impact on people. When we heed the tyranny of our ego, we become slaves to ourselves. Our knowledge of the elegant and gracious craft of humanity grows dim.

Moments later, I had broken free of the grinding traffic and cruised along the winding country roads that lead home. I continued to flesh out my new notion of the “craft of humanity.” What would a “master” in the craft of humanity look like? Naturally, my mind settled on the one I call “Master.” Jesus set the example for us as humans. He wandered the hills of Palestine, a perfect example of humanity, the likes of which Earth had not seen for thousands of years.

I am his apprentice, striving to match his example, taking instruction from him as he guides my hand at the chisel and the plane. Together we’re working on my life: shaping, cutting away, transforming the flaws into unique characteristics that exhibit the craftsmanship that only Jesus posesses for changing lives. He is, after all, the master carpenter.

So in the intervening time since this interior discourse, I’ve made an effort to follow Jesus’s example and be intentional in my relationships and impact people in a positive way. Even if it means simply waving another driver in front of me, it gives me an opportunity to humble myself and consider the needs, wants, and feelings of others. The result is sometimes surprising: people smile, wave, and even return the favor.