I hope you dont mind personal stories. I often wonder if its entirely proper to pair a personal story with a Bible thought. But then again, thats sort of what a testimony is, I hope. So, if you dont mind, I have a hair story for you today. But first a ten-dollar word. We havent had one in a while. Do you know the word exceptionalism? Exceptionalism is the perception that a person or country or institution or movement is exceptional (i.e., unusual or extraordinary) in some way and thus does not need to conform to normal rules or general principles. It can also be a grandiose sense of destiny. For example, in The Lord of the Rings Frodo was tasked to take the evil ring to Mount Doom and cast it into the fire in order to save the world. He was told, If you do not find a way, no one will. Thats exceptionalism. Do whatever you have to do to make this thing happen. It is a task only you can do. Makes a good fairy tale. But its not biblical. God charts history according to His own understanding and desire, and He is not bound by human capacity or ability to accomplish His purposes. When we pray, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven, we are simply agreeing with an eternal truth. It will be done the way God wants it done...always. He is God. Like Pastor said on Sunday about the GPS that recalculates when we choose not to follow the prescribed route, God, too, has no difficulty recalculating on the fly. He has infinite options. Should He survey all humanity and find none willing or qualified for the job, He Himself steps in --- thats how infinite He is. Nothing and nobody can thwart Him. Why, then, do humans fall into the trap of thinking we are indispensable? Simply put, we are vulnerable to failure at the point of our greatest strength. Our greatest pride. In the Bible, hair sometimes represents physical ability. Think of Sampson who had strength as long as his hair remained uncut. In the New Testament, the Bible talks about a womans hair being her glory. Absalom had a gorgeous head of hair. Gorgeous hair can trip a person up. I know this from personal experience. Twenty-some years ago we lived in a farming community in North Dakota. Forest River, to be exact. Larry was still active duty Air Force. The kids were all in school: high school, middle school and elementary. We had bought a little house in a fringe of houses lining the towns main highway. It was a single row of houses with an ocean-sized field bordering our back yards, with a park in front of us across the highway, and beyond the park the towns only restaurant, clearly in eyeshot. A pretty town where everybody knew everybody and where everybody had farming and machinery and commonsense earthiness in the blood. I really didnt fit in. But I wanted to. Larry was on mobility duty meaning he could be called away at an hours notice. His bags were always packed. One winter day he mobilized. That night it snowed. Snowed big. Our first-ever snowblower was in the garage at the back of the lot, the driveway leading to it being blocked solid with snow which was too much for me to shovel by hand. Id been begging to use the snowblower all winter, and although Larry showed me how to operate it, hed never yet let me do it. It was a big, big machine, a walk behind unit capable of throwing snow over the second storey windows. With Larry gone, I was going to get my chance. I couldnt just wait for the snow to melt because I had a meeting later that afternoon on the base, but that was okay with me. Snowblower, here I come. I dressed with particular care. Army boots, army coat, thick mittens. When it came to my head, I opted for fuzzy pink earmuffs. Not practical, but cute and would show off my waist length, brown hair to perfection. People might see me out there, and I wanted them to know that I could do machinery with the farmy best of them. As I dressed I visualized the sight. Long hair daintily rippling in the breeze as the snow was cleanly cut from the ground by the big, thoroughly mastered machine. It was gonna be great. I started up the snowblower as the kids boarded the schoolbus. I made one pass from the garage to the road. A second pass back to the garage. Then I looked up to survey my work. Something was not right. There seemed to be as much snow in the driveway as when I started. Wind must be blowing, I thought. I made two more passes. Still no progress. Two passes. Three. I was beginning to feel heavy and stiff. Four. At this point I saw the school bus pass in front of my house for a second time, childrens faces pressed to the glass in my direction, followed by a line of cars, some of whose ogling faces I recognized as being part of the morning coffee crowd at the cafe. Why was the bus in front of my house again? Did a kid forget something at home? At any rate, they were seeing me me in action behind the snow monster. It was great. City girls have it too! Another pass. And another. What on earth! It must be a particularly swirly wind to keep filling in as fast as I was blowing out the snow. Is that the bus again? And hey. Isnt that cafe crowds third pass? Really. Am I that impressive? Tired, heavy, and stiff, I turned off the key and went inside for a break. I stopped short at the hall mirror. I now understood why I felt so heavy. I also understood the suddenly strange traffic patterns. My hair was completely white. It was thickly encrusted, snow packed like a country road from the nape of my neck to the bottom of my hair. No movement at all. It was like I was wearing cape. On top of my head sat a cone of icy snow so tall that looked like I was wearing a wizards hat. I was going to have to take a long hot shower in order to thaw my head. Funny, I didnt ever remember Larry looking like that. I must be doing something wrong. I waded through the drifts in the driveway back outside to put away the snowblower. It had beaten me. As I slugged it into place in the garage I stumbled over something. A chute. Suddenly it all made sense. Without the chute in place to direct the snow, I had been blowing snow straight up forty feet into the air where it had then fallen like a geyser back down on top of me. No wonder the town had turned out in force to drive by! I supposed, reluctantly, that I should have asked for help. But I didnt. Because I never asked for help. I had a grandiose idea in those days of what it meant to be a military spouse. It meant being an island. A strong, competent island. It was a bonus if you could be cute at the same time. The hair episode was a turning point for me. Up until that point I had a strong sense that there was a destiny I had been born to do. Something requiring physical prowess. Perhaps beauty. Maybe brains. Some big thing that God wanted me to do with my life. And that if I didnt figure out what that thing was, I would suffer for all eternity for the shame of it. Exceptionalism. Its a terrible lie. God used the hair incident in my life to begin to peel away the areas of pride in my life that up till then had propelled much of my self image. It was painful process at first. Pride dies hard. The lesson, however, ended for me in freedom. Freedom to simply believe God. No more having to perform. Freedom to rest in Him, knowing God is leading me along paths of His choosing, step by step, the end goal being not some grandiose thing or duty to cross off a cosmic to do list, but rather instead, a walk, a life of ever greater intimacy with Him. Absolom died by his hair. His pride got caught in a tree. Such a pity. If only he had known that the chief purpose of man is to glorify God and to enjoy Him forever. Absalom should have been king, and likely would have been... but for pride. But get this. The death of Israels crown prince did not throw God for a loop. The principle recorded in the book of Esther was true for Absalom. He was crown prince for such a time as this. But if he refused Gods leadership, deliverance would arise from another place. Recalculating, Solomon succeeded David on the throne. The throne endured just as God said it would. It encourages me to know that the fate of the world does not rest with me. Not my sphere of influence. Not my place in history. The fate of my world does not rest with me. (Nor does it rest with America, by the way.) As a human, I am neither unusual nor extraordinary. And yet, if a person belongs to Jesus Christ, you are both unusual and extraordinary through the office of His Spirit inside you. Dont you love it? Doesnt that just take the pressure off? God is in control. Lets say it together. GOD IS IN CONTROL. And thats a comforting thought. Have a great week in the Lord. AmyS Lord, you have made known to me the path of life. You will fill me with joy in Your presence. (See Psalm 16)
Posted on: Wed, 17 Sep 2014 18:24:02 +0000
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