Sacred Mundane: The Blog

I can only imagine what Heidi must have thought as she watched the gut-wrenching scene:

Her three-year-old cousin screaming in pain, sweat beading on her forehead. Her cousin’s own mommy holding her down, pinned in a firm embrace with tears in her own eyes as well. On the other end her cousin’s own beloved daddy, with one of the girl’s feet firmly pinned under his arm and the other gripped tightly in his hands.  In one hand he held the instrument of pain — a small sharp object resembling scissors, poked and pressed into the tiny foot again and again and again, mercilessly inflicting his precious daughter with pain over and over and over.

Deeper and harder her daddy cut and poked, louder she screamed and wider Heidi’s eyes grew. Her grandma finally led her away to another room, and it wasn’t until after the whole ordeal was done that it dawned on me, as my sister-in-law remarked, “Heidi will never let us hold her now that she saw what we did to her cousin.” Of course. How horrible must this scene have appeared to a 2-year-old?

The reality was that my sweet niece had a 1/2″ long cedar sliver lodged far under the skin of her tender foot. As her sweet mom held her tightly we all poked and prodded and cut with a needle and tweezers to remove the foreign object before it became infected and caused far greater harm. Though it was awful for us all, we adults clearly understood it had to be done and knew the end result would be good.  Even my niece, in the middle of the ordeal, had a tiny bit of understanding as she carefully listened to her mother’s voice and held still, showing tremendous bravery in the midst of pain.

But Heidi had neither the understanding of an onlooking adult nor the in-the-midst-of-it explanation to give her any shadow of comprehension of what was going on. It must have seemed cruelty indeed, but of course it was out of love that my brother and sister-in-law held down their daughter and carefully removed the offending object.

Someday, of course, when we are in eternity and have the understanding of an “adult” we will be able to comprehend the sovereign ways of God and the times when His loving hand appeared calculatingly cruel.  And it does seem that when we are the ones in the midst of the trial, there is a level of grace and understand that God allows. It is very much like we are the 3-year-old girl, held down by a loving parent, hearing His tender voice reassuring, “Don’t be afraid, I love you, we’re almost done, look in my eyes, hold my hand, I promise it will be ok.”  Though the pain is most certainly ours to bear there is a comfort because we’re also the ones being held.

But the infant onlooker has neither the understanding nor the comfort.

The infant onlooker sees nothing but an innocent child in screaming writhing agony and a seemingly cruel and merciless parent.

No wonder the world questions the goodness of God.

In reality I really don’t think Heidi was scared of my brother and sister-in-law  after the ordeal. Why? Because even though she didn’t understand the terrible scene, she knew the character and love of the parents.

The “solution” to dealing with the suffering around us is not necessarily to understand the pain but to understand the Parent.

What the world needs is not to understand God’s ways but to understand God’s worth. That is, to understand God’s love.

What we try to teach our children is to trust us, even when they don’t understand.

Even when our ways seem cruel.

Like His sometimes do.

Heidi is learning this. So are we.

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{Are you? Thanks for reading.}

“Why?!” I yelled, out into the sky. “Why did you trick me, God?”

I waited. Silence.

“Why are you slashing my heart to pieces? Why are you doing this to me? Why did you trick me? Why?!”

Ten years ago God was breaking my heart and I had no idea why. The specific way it came about it, the details, how everything lined up — if I was honest about it, it seemed cruel. Deliberate. A calculated blow that sent me reeling.

Just this morning I sat across from a dear girl, tears streaming down her beautiful cheeks. My heart broke with hers because the cracks on mine are in the same place… sacred scars that remind me of God’s beautifully brutal work that cold December day.

There are times, wouldn’t you agree, that when we line up all the evidence it appears God’s hands have worked in cruel and calculating ways? Our deepest insecurity exposed, our worst fear realized, our greatest weakness pinpointed.

Our greatest love called to be slain.

Abraham experienced this, yes? When God requires Abraham bring his beloved son, the child of promise, to the altar and sacrifice him there. What is God thinking? This is surely cruelty if there ever were. Abraham’s greatest love and God asks him to slay the boy himself. Perhaps in all of scripture there isn’t another request more disturbing than this.

But as Abraham passes the test, and willingly gives up his son, God intervenes, spares the boy, and commends Abraham’s faith. A cruel test it would seem, yes? Or, by another perspective, a brilliantly effective work in Abraham’s heart. AW Tozer says this:

“Now [Abraham] was a man wholly surrendered, a man utterly obedient, a man who possessed nothing. He had concentrated his all in the person of his dear son, and god had taken it from him. God could have begun out on the margin of Abraham’s life and worked inward to the center. He chose rather to cut quickly to the heart and have it over in one sharp act of separation. In dealing thus, He practiced an economy of means and time. It hurt cruelly, but it was effective” (Pursuit of God, 27).

In a conversation earlier today a girl asked how I had worked through a certain issue in such a short amount of time (10 years ago). Instead of it taking years it had literally only been one night of tears and wrestling. And it has never come up again.  Honestly, I believe it is because of the paragraph above. Sometimes God deals with us through slow and gradual means, working from the margin into the center. But sometimes he chooses to cut quickly to the heart and have it over in one sharp and cruelly painful act. One isn’t necessarily better than the other, but understanding this concept can carry us through the brutal blows we are dealt.

And what exactly is God’s purpose in this cruel and effective treatment we receive? The blessedness of possessing nothing. We are always tempted to allow things to enter the central shrine where God alone should reign. When these good and blessed things are allowed into the sacred space of our hearts, God will do His brutal and beautiful work extracting them “in agony and blood like a tooth from the jaw.” He created a million good things for us to enjoy but none belongs in the sacred shrine of our heart. He will jealously guard His holy place in our lives.

At all cost.

There is no blessing that can compare with that of possessing nothing. “There is the spiritual secret. There is the sweet theology of the heart which can be learned only in the school of renunciation. The books on systematic theology overlook this, but the wise will understand.”

When God alone reigns on the throne of our hearts we are as we were created to be. The pure and holy dwelling place of God. The process is painful but the result is glorious.

However God is dealing with you today, whether by a slow and steady sanctification or a cruel and painful blow, be sure that He is lovingly guarding the throne of your precious heart — His sacred dwelling. How can you trust the Surgeon’s hand today? {Thank you for reading.}