The Price of Commitment

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Sundays aren’t as upsetting as they used to be. Watching a husband put his arm around his wife or share a hymnal doesn’t bring tears like it did a year ago, and last Sunday I even felt sincere delight watching the senior couple directly in front of me. As the congregation sang a rousing hymn, they not only shared the hymnal, they shared something else.

The husband, as he sang, occasionally glanced at his wife’s face. Every so often she looked up at him, and they shared a knowing smile. Part of the hymn they sang from memory, to each other, face-to-face. Once he leaned over and whispered something in her ear. As he did, she leaned toward him slightly, just enough to communicate acceptance and love.

On the hymn’s 3rd verse, these two 70-somethings standing side-by-side, began slowly swaying together, left and right, to the hymn’s cadence. It was so subtle an observer glancing at the congregation wouldn’t have noticed, but since they were right in front of me, I did. And it was charming.

Two things popped into my head: (1) gratitude that I wasn’t crying while witnessing this marital harmony, and (2) when one of them dies, the other will suffer. But that’s the natural consequence of a good marriage. When the time comes, even though tears will flow, the one left behind won’t wish away the years they had together to spare the pain of separation when it ends.

Most of life’s valuable commitments put us at risk for sadness, even sharp, agonizing pain: a happy marriage faces eventual widowhood and loneliness; parenthood brings incredible joy but also the misery of saying goodbye … over and over again; even taking on a family pet includes knowing we’ll one day have to bury it. Our world is full of opportunities to commit, each one involving a sacrifice, a risk, or both.

All except one.

The most important commitment any of us can ever make includes no price to pay at the end of it, and that’s our commitment to Christ. The risk and sacrifice for the greatest treasure on earth was all made by him, not us. Why he would ever agree to do what he did in order to get us is beyond figuring out. With all our imperfections and sins, we know we’re not worth the sacrifice he had to make, but apparently he thought we were. Mindboggling.

Unlike at the end of our human commitments, most of which finish with a goodbye, the final result of a commitment to Christ is an eternal hello and a life so unique and fresh we don’t now have the ability to picture it. The commitments of this world all come to an end, but signing on with Jesus is a forever partnership.

This morning, back in church, I scanned the congregation for the loving couple I’d seen the week before, but they weren’t there. When I asked, I learned they’d gone on a long trip to Europe. A second honeymoon? No, just making the most of an ongoing commitment to one another.

“At one time we thought of Christ merely from a human point of view. How differently we know him now! The old life is gone; a new life has begun!” (2 Corinthians 5:16-17)

Lest You Fall

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Psalm 91 includes an interesting promise about God’s care. He says he’ll command his angels to protect us from danger to the point of making sure we don’t even stub a toe on a stone. (vv. 11-12) Taking this literally as a child, I figured invisible angels would make sure I never got hurt.

But experience said otherwise. I got hurt lots while growing up, and never once saw an angel, much less felt one rescue me. So what could those verses mean?

As I’ve gotten to know the Lord over the years, I’ve seen how occasionally he allows hurtful experiences and at other times shields us from them. Our frustration comes in not knowing when he’ll do which. But rather than questioning the when, where, or why of his rescues, we should thank him for the “saves” we recognize as his doing.

Recently I learned of a spectacular one.

Hans and Katy had been entertaining another couple in their home, and after putting the 3 children to bed upstairs, the four adults were enjoying quiet conversation. Suddenly a neighbor from across the street ran into their front yard, visible from the living room window. He was waving his arms, shouting, and pointing to the second story.

“Something must be wrong upstairs,” Hans said, and bolted for the steps. Bursting into the children’s bedroom, he saw 2 year old Evelyn kneeling on the window sill with her hand on the wide-open swing-style window, leaning out (no screens). The neighbor, having just pulled into his driveway, had seen the situation and come running, not knowing if he should head for the front door or stay below the window in case Evelyn fell out.

Hans grabbed Evelyn from behind, preventing a fall to the pavement below and a sure death. “But,” Hans concluded as he told me the story, “she didn’t fall, Mom, and everything’s fine.”

After we said goodbye, I began to tremble all over, visualizing that precious child hitting the ground in a terrible accident. It wouldn’t only have altered her life but the rest of ours as well.

“Lord!” I cried. “How could you let her get on that window sill and open the window? It could have been a disaster!”

But God quickly chided me. “Who do you think arranged for the neighbor to arrive home just then? Who do you think had Hans and Katy facing the front window when he came running? Who do you think kept Evelyn anchored to the sill till her daddy reached her?”

Of course it was him, saving her from dashing her foot and the rest of her against the stones below. And suddenly I was ashamed of my accusations.

Within hours new key-locks had been installed on the windows, and Hans’ family was praising God for his rescue. As for me, after that initial dip, I could praise him, too.

“He will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways… lest you strike your foot against a stone.” (Psalm 91:11-12)

 

Take your lumps.

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Safety in this life can’t be guaranteed. As a matter of fact, safety as a goal isn’t necessarily a good one.

Take backyard safety, for example. Hans and Katy were given a set of jungle gym bars and an attached slide when their twins were less than two years old. They explained how to climb on the bars with care and demonstrated the proper way to use the slide.

Their 3 little monkeys took to it immediately, practicing not only the right way to do everything but also the wrong way. I’ve watched them climb with wet feet that slipped and delivered a bop to the chin. They’ve gone down face first into a mouthful of grass. They’ve swung from the highest bars simultaneously, crashing in the middle. They’ve rushed down the slide hoping to bang into the one still at the bottom.

Backyard safety isn’t easy to come by. But if Katy played the role of mother-hover trying to prevent bumps and bruises, she’d also be eliminating valuable learning. Every little accident gives new knowledge that will permanently come in handy.

It’s a good idea to let children take their lumps.

God the Father does the same with us. He lets us try to handle our “toys”, those things we’re convinced will improve our lives or make us happy, but he first spells out the rules in Scripture. We nod our heads in agreement. We might even memorize what he says. But trouble comes when we suggest add-ons that we think will work well, too.

For example, God carefully instructs us how to have a satisfying marriage, but we tack on ideas of our own, thinking they’ll only serve to enhance what God said. It’s absurd to think he might not know the best way to do things, and even more ridiculous to think we might know more than he does.

Those misconceptions are exactly what mankind’s first foray into sin was all about. Satan tempted Eve (and her husband, who was listening in) by telling them the only reason God forbid them to eat from the tree in the middle of the garden was so they wouldn’t be all-wise like he was. That convinced them of two things: (1) they wanted to be wise, and (2) they wanted to be like God. Their next move was, “Crunch. Mmmm.”

It’s a good idea for us to avoid thinking that same way about God’s instructions and rules.

Young children fully believe the world revolves around them, and when natural consequences (falling off the jungle gym) prove otherwise, valuable lessons are learned. If we as adults ignore or twist what our authorities tell us by writing our own rules, especially if it revises what God has already said, we’ll end up with some negative consequences, too. They might come from the police, a teacher, a judge, or God himself and will be far more serious than a fall from a jungle gym. But hopefully, taking our lumps will help us learn.

“May he turn our hearts to him, to walk in obedience to him.” (1 Kings 8:58)