This is what I’m going to do, so bless me
I have this idea that prayer involves me figuring out the solution and then presenting it to God. ‘This is what I’m going to do, so bless me.’ Prayers for other people go something like this: ‘This is what she needs to do. Father, please help her realise that and do it.’
Where does this attitude come from? How did I arrive at the conclusion that this was the way to live? What on earth makes me think that I can tell the Creator of the Universe how things are going to work?
A year ago I had a conversation with a friend. I arrived at his house just as he was reading the final chapters of the book of Job, where God finally answers Job. My friend commented on how profoundly it affected him. He was revelling in a fresh sense of who God was. He was revelling in God.
I muttered some sort of generic, noncommittal agreement and promptly changed the subject.
At the time, all I had was a Sunday-school sense of familiarity with Job. I’d read the book once or twice in my youth, but probably with only half my attention.
Job loses his wealth and his home and his family. His so-called friends kick him when he’s down, telling him God is clearly punishing him for something he did. His wife tells him to ‘curse God and die’ (Job 2:9). Job steadfastly refuses. God rewards Job, giving him more wealth, a bigger house and a bigger family. (And — I secretly hope — a better wife…)
Trouble is, that’s not the whole story. It’s not an inaccurate picture of the book of Job, just an incomplete one. Yes, Job was innocent. Yes, he maintains his innocence. Yes, he refuses to curse God. Yes, in the end, God blesses him. But the truth is, Job spends most of the story crying about his unfair lot in life. He moans and wails that he has done nothing to warrant the punishment. He demands that God explain Himself. He says that he is being treated unfairly and screams for God to justify His actions. He has a right to expect better.
In Job 38-41, God responds to Job (and by extension to us for all the times we make the same claims). What He says is at once incredibly comforting and overwhelmingly humbling.
Whoops! All of a sudden I’m reminded that I’m not in charge. My life isn’t spinning wildly out of control; it’s never been in my control. All my planning and decision-making is fruitless and counter-productive.
In II Samuel 5:17-25, the Philistines attack Israel. David immediately calls out to God and asks Him what he should do. God tells David to go ahead with the counter-attack. He does and they win. The story doesn’t end there, though. In the very next verse, the Philistines are on them again. David goes back to God, and again asks Him what he should do. God again tells him to go ahead and fight — but with a completely different strategy.
How many of us wouldn’t have gone back the second time to ask for direction? I probably would have gone back and said, ‘This is what I’m going to do, so bless me’. I would have charged at the Philistines head on. I would have died, and I would have led my entire army to death with me.
In My Utmost for His Highest, Oswald Chambers asks, ‘Many of us are faithful to our ideas about Jesus Christ, but how many of us are faithful to Jesus Himself?’ I need to constantly remind myself that the two are not the same.
You are God and I am not. Help me to be faithful to You, not my idea of You.
Where does this attitude come from? How did I arrive at the conclusion that this was the way to live? What on earth makes me think that I can tell the Creator of the Universe how things are going to work?
A year ago I had a conversation with a friend. I arrived at his house just as he was reading the final chapters of the book of Job, where God finally answers Job. My friend commented on how profoundly it affected him. He was revelling in a fresh sense of who God was. He was revelling in God.
I muttered some sort of generic, noncommittal agreement and promptly changed the subject.
At the time, all I had was a Sunday-school sense of familiarity with Job. I’d read the book once or twice in my youth, but probably with only half my attention.
Job loses his wealth and his home and his family. His so-called friends kick him when he’s down, telling him God is clearly punishing him for something he did. His wife tells him to ‘curse God and die’ (Job 2:9). Job steadfastly refuses. God rewards Job, giving him more wealth, a bigger house and a bigger family. (And — I secretly hope — a better wife…)
Trouble is, that’s not the whole story. It’s not an inaccurate picture of the book of Job, just an incomplete one. Yes, Job was innocent. Yes, he maintains his innocence. Yes, he refuses to curse God. Yes, in the end, God blesses him. But the truth is, Job spends most of the story crying about his unfair lot in life. He moans and wails that he has done nothing to warrant the punishment. He demands that God explain Himself. He says that he is being treated unfairly and screams for God to justify His actions. He has a right to expect better.
In Job 38-41, God responds to Job (and by extension to us for all the times we make the same claims). What He says is at once incredibly comforting and overwhelmingly humbling.
Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer me. Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation? Tell me, if you understand.
(Job 38:2-4)
Whoops! All of a sudden I’m reminded that I’m not in charge. My life isn’t spinning wildly out of control; it’s never been in my control. All my planning and decision-making is fruitless and counter-productive.
In II Samuel 5:17-25, the Philistines attack Israel. David immediately calls out to God and asks Him what he should do. God tells David to go ahead with the counter-attack. He does and they win. The story doesn’t end there, though. In the very next verse, the Philistines are on them again. David goes back to God, and again asks Him what he should do. God again tells him to go ahead and fight — but with a completely different strategy.
How many of us wouldn’t have gone back the second time to ask for direction? I probably would have gone back and said, ‘This is what I’m going to do, so bless me’. I would have charged at the Philistines head on. I would have died, and I would have led my entire army to death with me.
In My Utmost for His Highest, Oswald Chambers asks, ‘Many of us are faithful to our ideas about Jesus Christ, but how many of us are faithful to Jesus Himself?’ I need to constantly remind myself that the two are not the same.
You are God and I am not. Help me to be faithful to You, not my idea of You.
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