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08 October 2007
Vindication. (Job’s Answer.)
Half of the trouble of finding something is figuring out what it looks like. The Cowardly Lion, the Tin Man and the Scarecrow all set out to find their missing pieces, only to discover at the end of the story that they had them all along. I don’t imagine it is so different with God. The Psalmist asks for vindication. Perhaps he has been vindicated all along.
There is an old Russian joke where a man with one eye, one leg, and a dead horse finds a genie in a lamp. The genie offers him three wishes, so the man wishes that his neighbor would lose an eye, a leg and a horse. I wonder if we are not so different from that man. We ask God to vindicate us, and we assume that we are asking Him to curse our enemies. We may not know what we are asking for. Our God is a God of plenty, not of poverty.
The Book of Job is a story of vindication. In the face of all seeming evidence to the contrary, Job holds out in his faith. He is torn in two, his wife telling him to curse God and die, his friends telling him that he is cursed by God. In the face of the disaster of his life, he holds to his seemingly contradictory belief that he is right and God is just. Wisely, Job submits to the God’s adjudication (even as he foolishly demands that God give an account for His actions.)
And Job finds his vindication. Everything taken from Job is restored twofold. And nothing is taken from his interlocutors. His far-from-supportive wife is blessed with twice as many children as she had before. His far-from-helpful friends are blessed by an audience with God. They receive as a rebuke no more harsh than the one given to Job. They do not receive his blessings, but that was never the point.
It’s all about perspective. We generally take the perspective of poverty. We measure ourselves against the well-being of our neighbors. There’s only so much to go around, and you’ve got to get yours. From that perspective, whatever hurts our enemies helps us. Since it is far easier to hurt our enemies than to help ourselves, that is where we spend our time and energy. Therefore, vindication must mean the fall of one’s adversaries.
Yet Job’s vindication does not mean that at all. Perspective, once again. Between man and man, the well only goes so deep. Between man and God, the well goes down forever. In Him, we leave our poverty behind and find plenty. So Job’s vindication was never between him and his friends, but between him and God. He is not vindicated by God striking down his friends, but by being blessed twenty times over.
Presumably, they notice. Presumably, he is vindicated in their eyes. But it doesn’t matter. The conversations were not between the two of them. Job’s prayers elevate the conversation. He sends his desires up, and God sends blessings back down. Some of the outpouring splashes into other discussions, but this is a side-effect, not the vindication itself. And it is a better ending. Perhaps Job invites his councilors over from time to time to share in his restored wealth. Perhaps their friendship is restored. Certainly, his relationship with his wife is restored (judging from the fact that they proceeded to have more children.) Job’s vindication leaves him richer in relationship than he was before. Bloody revenge does not.
Consider King David. Unjustly hunted and persecuted by Saul, he is a man in need of vindication. Reading the Psalms, he certainly asks for vindication in all its flavors. He calls fire upon his adversaries, and he asks mercy and blessing for himself. The latter prayers are answered by God. The former prayers are answered by Saul. Saul sets out on an ill-advised military campaign, and appropriately dies upon his own spear. The consequences of Saul’s foolish choices eventually sum into his death. God simply weaves it into His plan.
Remember that David had several chances to take Saul’s life. Perhaps it would have been permissible to do so. Our courts would have acquitted him, self-defense and all. But it would not have been for the best. David lets the story run its course. And in this he finds an unexpected blessing: he inherits all of Saul’s blessings. Striking Saul down, David would have found a measure of vindication. But all of Saul’s blessings would have died with him. Saul was strong. David becomes strong. Saul was respected. David earns Israel’s respect. Saul was a king. David inherits his crown. (I can’t help but think of Gandalf’s return. ‘I am Saruman. At least, I am Saruman was meant to be.’) Because of the manner of Saul’s death, David never had to face questions about his succession. His throne started secure, and he was able to focus his energies other places. So King David’s vindication was in his greatly blessed kingship. He is vindicated in his blessings, not in the cursing of Saul.
What holds true for patriarchs and kings holds true for each of us. In work, in relationships, in life choices, each of us desires some sort of vindication. We need to know what to expect. Until you look through eyes of plenty, all you will see is poverty. Look to His blessings, not to the cursing of others. We may find have already been vindicated a hundred times over.
21:54 Posted in Thoughts | Permalink | Comments (0) | Email this
06 October 2007
Shorter Paths (Part 2.)
The more I learn about each of our and all of our histories, the more I realize there are only a couple of stories. There are different stages for each rendition, varied props and assorted casts of extras, but ultimately Solomon is right: there is nothing new under the sun. So we choose our roles and we play them to whatever end. And this is where the analogy fails: Fantine dies on the five hundredth night of Les Miserables as surely as she does on the first. In each retelling Valjean finds redemption and Javert does not. One singer may play Marius well, another poorly, but he will always marry Cosette. A character’s lines are unchanging… you are judged by how well you perform them; you can affect quality but not outcome. It does not seem that our stories are quite as fixed.
Perhaps, then, we live in a football game. The way we play determines the outcome. It is not enough to stay within the prescribed rules of the game… no one has ever won a football game simply by not incurring penalties. But many have lost a game by doing so. So within the boundaries of the field, we write a free-flow drama where actions determine outcomes. The quality of the game is determined by the play of both sides in concert, while the outcome of the game is determined by the play of both sides in opposition. And here this analogy fails as well: I cannot imagine our Adversary demonstrating good sportsmanship.
So we are caught in between. Improvised interpretations of a theme, vignettes balanced upon the edge of a knife. Somewhere in between sport and drama is combat. You know the script, but your adversary is constantly trying to thwart your plans. Only skill and wisdom lie between a successful mission and a flaming wreckage. So we are the tightrope walkers, balanced by God’s council, on our way across a canyon. But wisdom is no dictator, and gravity is more than willing to do its duty. Let us then be thankful for the safety net of God’s grace.
There’s one thing worse than completely sucking at something. That’s finding someone who just did a great job at the thing you sucked at. That is, unless and until you can find the humility to learn from them. And then it becomes the best thing.
The story was far more common than I had realized. I’ve seen two near verbatim retellings of my story in the lives of my friends, along with countless variations on the theme. One is still in process… I pray she finds the courage to end it well (and I pray that he finds any courage at all.) The second, well, it ended quite well. And in this is a quite significant revelation: one person can change the quality of the story greatly, but it takes two people to change the outcome.
It’s an ancient equation: the will and heart mismatch. One person desires the other as more than friends, and the other desires only friendship. Throw in a little bit of human fallenness, and the story usually includes the ’just-friends’ character offering and taking more than they really should, and the ‘more-than-friends’ character asking more than they really should. There’s only a couple ways that it can end, really. One may change their will, and they become more than friends. The other may find their heart changed, and they stay just friends. Of course, if neither change, the interaction must at some point end. The courage and honor that both characters show toward each other determine the manner of ending.
I can tell you how to end it poorly. Have the ‘just-friends’ character start telling the other how they should feel. Use interaction as a weapon in order to manipulate their feelings. And then have the ‘more-than-friends’ character start telling the other what they should do. Have them both resent the other, one resenting the other’s will for not respecting their heart, the other resenting their counterpart’s heart for not respecting their will. Throw in a dash of pride, ensuring that neither looks inside to find the source of the dissonance. Garnish it all with selfishness, where one offers inappropriate emotional intimacy outside of any real commitment, and the other eagerly accepts it as an avenue to their heart. Shake it all up, add some heat, and stand back.
In retrospect, I may be able to tell you how to end it better. Have the ’more-than-friends’ character guard their own heart. Have them relinquish their heart into God’s hands, and trust His plan and His timing. Have them respect their own heart enough to safeguard it for someone who will treasure it, have them respect the other’s decisions as legitimate. Have them become secure enough in God to realize that He loves the other more than they possibly could, to realize that God does not need our help to accomplish His will, to realize that God does not give us desires in vain. And have them prepare to walk away if they need to, realizing that walking away may be the best way to honor the other if the other has no intention to honor you. First and foremost, have them learn contentedness.
Notice that the outcome does not change. Only the quality of the story and the collateral damage. This is not saying that the outcome cannot change. But that takes two people.
And this is the story of my two friends. Reading the account of their relationship was almost like reading my own, except in an alternate universe where everything ends well. Perhaps more accurately, in this universe between two people far less proud and far more willing to honor each other. They honor God and each other at every step, even when they are navigating their own fears. It is almost the same exact transcripts, the same songs, the same stories, but without the broken trust and venom. And with a lot more courage on both parts.
There are only a few stories and only a few endings. One will or one heart will eventually change. Yet even in this is a trap. Outcomes can only be reached together, but we are responsible only for our own actions. Concern yourself with outcomes, and you will inevitably desire to change the other. But they are not yours to change, they are God’s alone, unless and until He entrusts them to you. So concern yourself with obedience, and God will change you both.
Will v. Heart. One wins and one loses, it almost seems. No wonder it becomes adversarial. God is the only one who can break this paradox. In His plan, if one wins, the other doesn’t lose. If they both honor God, they will find the patience to let the story play out If they trust Him, they will learn to face their fears. If they honor each other, they will save each other much pain.
There was a person I one knew quite well, one who looks exactly like me (if a bit younger) who would have been jealous of my friends. ‘This should have been my story.’ But this was their story, and rightfully so. You see, ‘my’ is singular. ‘Theirs’ is plural. And this was the problem all along. What I wanted. Not what she wanted. Not how I could honor her. What I wanted. The fact that she and I had this in common does not make it right for either of us.
My heart was broken. Praise God. It was the greatest blessing that I never wanted, the difference between Old and New Dave. So I add one prayer: ‘break her will.’ May this be the greatest blessing that she never wanted. May it be the difference between Old and New C. This is the costliest and most precious blessing that I can give her… it was the costliest and most precious blessing that I received.
That boy has passed away. And for the better. Looking back, there was no way Old Dave and Old C. could have ever honored each other. They were both too scared, too arrogant and too selfish to reach outside of their safe worlds. Unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable both. Looking back, there is no way New Dave can honor Old C. beyond distance and prayers. But perhaps, and this is my deepest hope, New Dave and New C. can meet each other again for the first time. Perhaps the same story with two much improved characters can find a much better ending. But it is out of my hands. And my prayer remains the same: ‘change my heart or change hers.‘ Nonetheless, I am content here. I already have Everyone that I need.
21:41 Posted in Faith | Permalink | Comments (0) | Email this