Pick-up sticks

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Some people think God gets pleasure out of manipulating us, as if we were the sticks in a pick-up game: flick one here, put pressure on another there, and roll someone else away. But that’s a skewed analysis. Of course he could use his power that way if he wanted to, but the Almighty only maneuvers people around if the end result will be their betterment.

As I walk the dog on our route to the beach, one long stretch of road is bordered by forest on both sides, with beautiful views every-which-way. The pavement was laid half way up a giant dune, which leaves a descending valley on one side and an ascending hill on the other.

If a tree goes down in a wind storm, residents prefer to let it be, allowing the natural process of forestation to take over. So after a wild winter, the valley might resemble a game of pick-up sticks being played by a couple of massive storybook giants.

Sixty-foot long trunks lie in a jumble, giving the impression they were tossed there by the hand of God. We look at the disorder and think, “If we could get a crane down there to line up the trunks, and a saw to chop them into 24” lengths, we could stack them in cords and neaten up the valley.”

We’re tempted to think this way about the fall-out from storms in our lives, too. When bad news comes (as it eventually does to us all), life feels as chaotic as the forest floor looks. We think, “God is manipulating me and my life, and now I’m in a mess with huge problems. If only he would straighten it all out… and do it now!”

But maybe we can take a lesson from the forest. After trees have been thrown down by severe winds, their trunks settle on top of each other in pick-up-stick disarray, with no power to change their positions. But as they’re left alone, forest plants begin to slowly grow over them, attractive ground covers like ivy, myrtle, and pachysandra.

The mix of plants, bark, wood, and dirt gradually morphs into rich topsoil to nourish the plants, and when next year’s spring arrives, fallen tree trunks will be dotted with wildflowers. Although the start-to-finish process takes time and begins with the chaos of trees crashing down, the end result is peaceful beauty.

In the same way, if we trust God to work with us through our illnesses, accidents, break-ups, and other problems, when we come to the end of them, he’ll reveal some special gifts we couldn’t have come into any other way.

At the conclusion of a game of pick-up sticks, all we have is one winner. But at the end of our trials, if we stick with the Lord, he is sure to do something spectacular for not just one of us but for every one of us.

“God blesses those who patiently endure testing and temptation. Afterward they will receive…” (James 1:12)

Exercise caution.

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Today while running errands I found myself driving behind an erratic driver in a compact car. She was crawling at what seemed like walking speed on a country road with a speed limit of 55.

It was easy to be patient, however, because on the roof of her car was a big yellow sign that said, “STUDENT DRIVER.” As a matter of fact, I was happy to put some distance between us, giving her space to make mistakes without pulling me into the mix. While waiting several car lengths back for her left turn, I breathed a quick prayer of gratitude that I was finished sitting shotgun for 7 driving wanna-be’s in my own family.

Handing the keys to an inexperienced 15-year-old when the minivan he was practicing on was mine, always went against me. One maiden voyage home from the DMV with a new learner’s permit at the controls saw us taking turns on 2 wheels. Thank goodness that’s over.

The saintly patience of driving teachers has always been impressive. A career of climbing in next to one green driver after another, day after day, year after year, has to be the ultimate test of endurance. It must be a difficult life to have to continually be braced for impact.

Of course these dedicated instructors do have one advantage over the rest of us: dual controls. Though they sit on the right like any other passenger, the second set of gas and brake pedals are tools they can use to avert an accident and prevent damage to vehicles, drivers, and themselves.

The idea behind a driving education course is to let a novice accumulate on-the-road experience in a semi-safe vehicle. The job of the trainer, then, is to let them retain control until the last second before disaster strikes, refraining from using the emergency pedals until the student has no time left for a correction.

I like to think of God watching over us in a similar way. There’s just one big difference: he doesn’t always use that second set of pedals when he could. Though he’s able to prevent our every mistake and accident, he usually doesn’t. That’s because we learn best from our blunders.

What if an exasperated student driver asks her instructor to get out of the car? If he does, she leaves herself without a safety net. Both she and the car are at risk, because the experienced feet that had been hovering over the second set of pedals have disappeared. With the Lord, it’s something similar. If we ask him to stay out of our lives, he probably will. He’ll continue to be concerned for us, to love us, and to hope we’ll re-invite him in.

The question is, how much accidental damage will that take?

“It’s best to stay in touch with both sides of an issue. A person who fears God deals responsibly with all of reality, not just a piece of it.” (Ecclesiastes 7:18, The Message)

No Bones About It

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My dog Jack has his own following, and we frequently run into members of his fan club as we take our walks around the neighborhood. It’s not unusual for an oncoming car to stop just ahead of us, its driver hopping out to make contact. “Oh, Jack! I’m so glad to see you!”

The list of those who love him doesn’t end at the gate to our neighborhood, either. If I take him to the bank, tellers Ann and Cathy always have treats ready, even if we’re in the drive-through. When they spot his profile in the back seat, the tube-traveling canister quickly brings a bone right out to him.

Like most dogs, Jack shows appreciation by tail-wagging. We’ve learned to read his wags and have them categorized: high, medium, and low. Maybe it’s because he’s got a thick tail, but most of his wags are mediums and lows. Whatever the reason, a high wag is saved for only the best of friends.

One of Jack’s many fans stands above the rest, someone who receives lots of high wags. Her name is Karen, and she lives just around the corner from us. Karen loves dogs and often babysits for other people’s canines. But she keeps a special box of Milk Bones in her kitchen just for Jack.

Every time we walk near Karen’s house, Jack begins watching for her, his head turned and eyes glued to the front door, even after we’ve passed. If Karen sees us going by, she comes outside ready to give hugs, back rubs, kisses, and a bone to her furry friend. He loves her back with enthusiasm.

But Karen does even better than that. She faithfully leaves a bone on her front step for him. From the street Jack looks, wags, and strains at his leash, pleading to “go to Karen’s.” When I unclick him, he runs to her front door, stepping over the treat, in hopes of getting to her. If she doesn’t appear, he heads back for his treat. What he really wants, though, is Karen.

Jack has never doubted the strength of her love for him. If he didn’t know how to wag, she’d love him anyway, and he knows that. If he was hot and tired, unable to head for her porch, she’d come to the street to greet him. It doesn’t matter to her how Jack behaves. She loves him no matter what.

This relationship is a sterling example of exactly how the Lord loves all of us. It’s a no-matter-what kind of love that never wavers, regardless of what we do. The question is, do we love him back as enthusiastically as Jack loves Karen?

After a few minutes with her, I re-leash Jack and tug him toward home. But he always looks back longingly for just one more glimpse of the one who loves him so well, the one he enthusiastically loves back in return.

“Let your unfailing love surround us, Lord, for our hope is in you alone.” (Psalm 33:22)