The danger of good intentions

I'm reading through 2 Samuel and last week I read something that has given me so much to think about.  It's the story of Uzzah, the guy God struck dead because he reached out to steady the ark of the covenant when one of the oxen stumbled (you can read it in 2 Sam 6).  I think most people when they read or hear this story think that God was being hyper-sensitive and petty and I've heard people use this story as proof that "the God of the Old Testament is vengeful and angry."  I've already blogged about how false that notion is.  But there are some deep things to learn from the story that require some chewing.

Maybe a little backstory is in order.  The first mistake the Israelites made was taking the ark with them to battle.  The ark symbolized the presence of God but they misused it, taking it with them superstitiously and putting their hope in the ark instead of in God Himself.  They were defeated in battle and the Philistines took the ark.  The hand of the Lord was then heavy on the Philistines (read all about it back in 1 Samuel 4-6) and the Philistines decided they needed to get rid of this ark!  They put it on a new cart along with some offerings and hooked up two milk cows on which there had never been a yoke and which had never been separated from their calves.  The point of this was to prove something to themselves:  if the cows went straight to the border of Israel, it would obviously be a sign from God.  Sure enough, that's what happened.  There, some of the Israelites were curious about the ark and decided they would have a little look inside.  God struck 50,070 of them dead for this disobedience.  Obviously, a holy God does not take irreverence lightly.  

Eventually the ark was to be returned to Jerusalem.  Instead of carrying it according to the law laid down by God through Moses (see Numbers 4: the ark was only to be moved by Levites, with special poles on their shoulders, and they were forbidden to touch it on pain of death), the Israelites imitated the Philistines and put the ark on a cart.  Uzzah, chosen to drive the ark, obviously had no idea of the unapproachable holiness of the ark of God.  At some point he reached out to keep the ark from falling over because the oxen slipped.  And God instantly smote him.

What I've been thinking about was, exactly what was Uzzah's sin?  Keil & Delitzsch say this:  Uzzah's offence consisted in the fact that he had touched the ark with profane feelings, although with good intentions, namely to prevent its rolling over and falling from the cart.  Touching the ark, the throne of the divine glory and visible pledge of the invisible presence of the Lord, was a violation of the majesty of the holy God.  'Uzzah was therefore a type of all who with good intentions, humanly speaking, yet with unsanctified minds, interfere in the affairs of the kingdom of God, from the notion that they are in danger, and with the hope of saving them' (O.v.Gerlach)  

Those few sentences left me speechless.  I can recall so many instances where I am sure that I, like Uzzah, violated the majesty of God with profane feelings, by thinking that unless I did something, the kingdom of God (in some small way) was in danger.  It's truly a case of fools rushing in where angels fear to tread.  My intentions may be good but if my thoughts are unsanctified - I have not waited on the majesty of God - I do more harm than good.  This has given me so much to think about when deciding what to do in situations.   The sovereign, gracious, majestic and holy God of the universe is in control and does not need my help.  I do not need to rush to His defense.  Instead I need to walk in daily obedience to Him and let Him work out His plans.  Ephesians 2:8-10 springs to my mind.  We are not saved BY works but we ARE His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus FOR good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them.   God has works for me to do.  He prepared them for me long ago.   That's enough to keep me busy the rest of my life.  No need to reach out and steady the ark.  God is in control.  

Ah-ha! or "Old dogs appreciate new tricks"

I don't know how it is for other people but every once in a while someone will say something or I will read something and I have one of those "ah-ha!" moments.  Suddenly the pieces of a puzzle fall into place in my brain.  Usually it has to do with a thought that helps me make sense of my experiences.  And it actually seems to happen more frequently the older I get.  Maybe with time I have more experiences to make sense of...or maybe I'm just a slow learner and am finally catching up.

Last year in our Bible study we were using a book called Instruments in the Redeemer's Hands.  It is a great book and I learned a lot from the sessions but it wasn't until the very last meeting of the year when I had one of those life-changing moments and thought, "I wish I had learned this 30 or 40 years ago!"  

The author used a very simple illustration:  two concentric circles.  The inner circle is labeled "Responsibilities" and the outer circle "Concerns".  Responsibilities are those things that God gives me to do and which no one else can or should do.  Concerns are things that matter to me but which are someone else's responsibility - I have no control over them and God doesn't intend me to. The author went on to explain how much grief we experience in life if we confuse those two circles.  If you'd been sitting next to me right then you probably could have heard the pieces falling into place in my brain.   I think I've spent a good deal of my life confusing those two circles and I know the grief that comes from that. 

One sort of person tries to make their responsibility circle very small.  They would like to make other people responsible for the things God expects of them, especially the unpleasant things that they don't like to do.  They are eager to get someone else to take their responsibilities on for them or they are quick to put the blame on someone else for things that are actually their own doing or choosing.

The other sort of person makes their responsibility circle huge.  They constantly feel responsible for every concern and try to make people do what they know is right. They tend toward anxiety or manipulation because they feel responsible for things over which they actually have no control and which God never intended them to do.  

I think it is especially easy for mothers to get confused on these things.  When your children are small you really ARE responsible for them and for "making" (teaching, training) them do the things they should do and learn.  That is a responsibility God gives to mothers.  Of course dads have a lot of responsibility, too, but a lot of the practical things fall in Mom's lap to teach.  Gradually, however, children become accountable for their own decisions and no one ever really teaches moms when and how to make that transition.  Or we may let go on the outside but on the inside our anxiety meter tells a different story - we still feel responsible and are always trying to solve our kids' problems and help them.  

If you haven't been able to tell from the previous paragraphs, I definitely fall in the latter category.  It's been a very liberating experience to begin to change my thought patterns.  When anxiety over one of my dear ones begins to register I remind myself that my concern makes it legitimate and necessary for me to PRAY about the situation and for the person but I do NOT need to jump in.  To do so violates a fundamental truth which lies in God Himself.  God in His sovereign majesty has determined who is responsible for what and made that clear to us in His Word.  HE is fully capable of accomplishing His will without my "help" and I need to trustingly accept those boundaries.  He gives me multitudinous opportunities to love and serve those around me without my taking on their responsibilities.  

What about when those we love are in deep difficulties?  The temptation to "put my oar in" and try to help out is enormous.  Of course the Spirit often leads us to help.  But not every need means God wants me to jump in.  One of my all-time favorite verses is Deuteronomy 8:3 "He humbled you and let you be hungry, and fed you with manna which you did not know, nor did your fathers know, that He might make you understand that man does not live by bread alone, but man lives by everything that proceeds out of the mouth of the LORD."   Sometimes God lets us be hungry - experience need -  because He is in the process of humbling us and teaching us to rely on His manna - His special grace that only comes when we've exhausted our own resources and turn to Him in our need.  I don't want someone to settle for my help when God is waiting with His unlimited resources, if only they will come to Him. 

There is no formulaic rule to tell me when God wants me to do something or not.  I discover that only as I wait on Him in every and all situations and I only hear Him if I have learned to listen to Him daily.  Now when I become aware of needs I always ask myself, "Is this my responsibility or is it a concern?  Does God want to use me or does He want to provide manna in another way?"   His infinite wisdom knows best and I do well to heed His voice.  "In the wilderness He fed you manna which your fathers did not know, that He might humble you and that He might test you, to do good for you in the end."  Deut. 8:16

Homesick

If there is one time of year when a heart that is in exile yearns for home, that season is autumn.  Perhaps it is related to the gathering-in associated with late summer and fall.  When the days begin to shorten and there is that certain slant of light that signals the end of summer, the roots that are hidden deep in the soil of home begin to stir and pull me home.  
Yesterday there was a loud cacophony of crows in the neighborhood and the sound instantly transported me to the dry autumn feel of the farm.  The high, cloudless blue skies, the slightly dusty scent of the air as the crops dry out, the translucent quality of the sunlight, the sight and sound of birds flocking in preparation for their long migration - the memories of these things are hard-wired into my brain.  I long for the smell of the last tomatoes ripening on the vine, the sight of wild sunflowers billowing on the creek bank and the dogs and horse slumbering in the autumn sun out in the pasture.  
I stopped at the pet store this morning to get litter for my city cat.  The sign on the door announced "Pets Welcome!"  As I walked up to the check-out a man came around a corner with a huge Great Pyrenees dog on a leash.  My heart leapt.  I got down on my knees to greet this gentle giant and love him up, burying my hands and face in the familiar fur.  Seeing him was enough to open a great chasm of homesickness that threatened to undo me.  As I drove away there was a huge lump in my throat. 
One thing I've learned in my wanderings is that it is foolish to forfeit the present by longing for the future or the past.  But I've also learned the power of a dream.  I'm thankful that we have a home that we love so deeply back on the farm and I cherish the dream that we'll be there again some autumn.  My roots are pulling me back.

Missing gene

Somehow I missed the music gene.  Or maybe it missed me.  I took years and years of piano lessons as a child but it never came naturally to me.  When it comes to singing, well, it's kind of like drawing - I can tell when the line or the note is right but I just can't seem to make my brain tell my hand or vocal chords how to actually DO it.  And I have to confess that when I'm alone, I prefer silence to music.  I sort of wonder if there's something unnatural about that but I don't know.


My husband and all my kids seem to have the music gene.  Obviously, just like their Rhesus factor, they got it from their father.  I have always enjoyed hearing my guys plucking and strumming their guitars.  Both of my girls enjoy singing along to their iPods and it always brings me joy to hear them belting out the tunes.  I love standing next to my daughter in church and hearing her beautiful voice do what mine can't.  It's definitely a gift and I definitely don't have it.


I've sometimes wondered about Paul's injunction to the Ephesians: "speaking to one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody with your heart to the Lord."   How to make melody with my heart to the Lord when there just doesn't seem to be a melody there?  Pluck the strings and what comes out is a twang and thwack, not beautiful music.  


I think for myself the "melody" is strongly connected to joy, more than to actual musical notes.  And joy is something I've been thinking a lot about over the last few months.  The older I get, the more joy I experience.  I have become more and more deeply convinced of two things: God's love and His sovereignty.  And being firmly convinced of those, my heart is liberated.  It may not soar in song but it does well up in great thankfulness and love.  Perhaps that is the "in your hearts" part of Paul's command.  


I'm sort of wondering how it will work in the New Heavens and New Earth.  Maybe I'll have a beautiful voice.  Or maybe our ears will only hear the heart.

Tola, the son of Puah, the son of Dodo

Interesting names, aren't they?  I'm reading in Judges and ran across Tola and Jair today, judges in Israel.  They come after Gideon, the story of whose deeds reads like an amazing adventure story (Judges 6-8...read it yourself!).  Gideon would be a hard act to follow and chapter 10 starts with Tola and Jair, about whom Keil and Delitzsch make the rather stinging comment, "Of these two judges no particular deeds are mentioned, no doubt because they performed none."  Ouch.  


But then the commentary goes on to elaborate and that's where I found some comfort and encouragement for myself today.  "Tola rose up as the deliverer of Israel, even supposing that he simply regulated the affairs of the tribes who acknowledged him as their supreme judge, and succeeded by his efforts in preventing the nation from falling back into idolatry, and thus guarded Israel from any fresh oppression on the part of hostile nations."


Keeping Israel from falling back into idolatry, while it may not qualify as a deed of valor, certainly was an enormous accomplishment, especially when you consider how quickly Israel's heart reverted to idolatry.   And in this I find an example to follow - to be faithful in encouraging others to follow the Lord with their whole heart.  It may not be the "conquering nations" kind of feat.  But helping Jesus conquer even one heart and keep it from idolatry is a worthy endeavor.

A case in point...

A found object - quilt top from my grandmother

Using up the scraps of many different prints

I was lying on the floor exercising this morning when I happened to notice, inside one of the under-bed storage boxes, a quilt top I had forgotten about.  It was one I got after my mom died and I'm pretty sure that it was pieced by my grandmother, Celia Peterson.  Most of the piecing is by hand but a few of the seams connecting blocks are machine sewn.  I'm not sure what decade ii is from - the 1920's or 30's perhaps?
  
The fabrics in the quilt are a perfect example of the "using up the remnants and scraps" I was talking about.  The prints are the kind she would have perhaps gotten to make my grandfather's shirts and her everyday dresses.  Some of the blocks have rather odd, asymmetrical combinations of prints that make me think she was trying to use up whatever she had.  


I remember many times lying in bed looking at the pieces in a quilt and remembering the dress or apron the print came from, whether it was mine, my mother's or grandmother's.  I'm sure if my grandmother were here she could tell me what she had made out of each one.  Little pieces of history, sewn into a quilt.  I wonder what else is hiding under my bed???

Thoughts on a day at the quilt exposition

Almost thirty years ago we were living in Germany and I was blessed to find a group of women who were learning to quilt.  The teacher was a lovely American woman who lived around the corner from us.  I was a novice at quilting but having come from a long line of quilters and wanting to learn I joined the group.  At the first meeting I was astonished to see the beautiful things these women were working on.  But the thing I found most astonishing was that they had all gone out and BOUGHT coordinating fabrics from which they were making their quilts.  A large part of the group discussion was concerned with questions like whether this particular green was right to go with these other colors.  The reason I found this so amazing was that in my experience quilts were always made from the remnants and scraps left from the sewing a woman had done for her family.  These "scrap quilts" were beautiful and useful and to me they spoke of the creativity and resourcefulness of hard-working women who used scraps too precious to waste and, given the limits of their color and pattern selection, were able to create something beautiful and useful.  It somehow seemed like cheating to me that you would just be able to go out and pick all your own colors - where was the challenge in that?  I wasn't sure I liked the idea but I got used to it.

Fast forward thirty years.  Yes, I've been going out and buying fabrics for quilts.  But since we buy most of our clothes ready made these days, who has a big box of cotton scraps lying around?  Well, actually I do but probably many women don't.  So my thinking has evolved on what constitutes a "legitimate" quilt.

What brought these thoughts to mind was an experience I had today.  Becca and I went down to Long Beach to the International Quilt Exposition.  As we wandered through the huge hall we oohed and aaahhhed over the antique quilts on display.  The further we penetrated into the quilts created in the recent past, we both became strangely silent.  After a little while we decided to go check out the vendors.  Here there were hordes of women and hundreds , yea verily thousands! of nearly irresistible bolts of quilting cottons, fat quarters, patterns and every sewing and quilting gizmo and gadget known to man.  Some booths were so tightly crammed with women one had to wait outside until a little opening appeared and then catapult oneself into the space, hoping eventually to get over to see and touch the things on display.  Every so often we'd go back to viewing the quilts, which, oddly, had very few people browsing through them.

After a couple forays we looked at each other and had to confess that we really didn't like what we were seeing.  The workmanship and detail on these quilts is beyond belief.  The subject matter and message of the quilts was, however, vastly different from that of my old quilts.  A quilt that shows the abstract form of a naked woman, or one depicting a giant pink octopus with his arms wrapped around a clock tower, or one with the four foot wide head of a child painted in thread across the quilt, or one with rubber ducks glued to the surface - well, even though the workmanship is amazing and I admit that they are works of modern art I have to say that they didn't appeal to me.  The execution may be flawless but I don't like the message.

So once again the concept of "quilt" has been re-defined and there's no stopping progress.  I'll go on making my old-fashioned kind of quilts and I guess that's legitimate.  Maybe art is most valuable when it's an expression of who we truly are.  But my feet hurt too much tonight to think very deeply about that...