Today's post is by guest writer Rebekah Craig. (The dorm she refers to is a place where she lives while working at CEI Bookstore, and thus the Dorm parents are the homeowners. dw)
Yesterday morning we found out that what we thought was a nasty head cold in C-Dorm (affectionately coined by a friend), was the infamous COVID virus herself. It suddenly made a lot of sense why Dorm Dad has not been himself. Over the past year, our household has brushed by the virus, even up close and personal, but we somehow managed to make it through the whole year without contracting it. You would think that after a year of exposures, consequent on and off quarantines, and having to cancel and reschedule plans, that it would be a breeze. Even though I wasn't upset at anyone and certainly don't blame anybody, it left me particularly unsettled and self-concerned.
"But what about all of the plans I have coming up?"
"But...my routine."
"But I thought we were invincible."
"But this will throw us all off."
"I was just starting to hang out with people again."
While I tried to adjust to the cold-water change of routine that happened in the middle of the day yesterday, the well-known passage in James sat in the back of my mind. I finally sat down and read it today:
"Come now, you who say, 'today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade a make a profit' -- yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, 'if the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.' As it is, you boast in your arrogance. All such boasting is evil. So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin." (4:13-17)
If I were to outline this passage in a way that is relative to me, as if I were reiterating something James told me personally, this is how I would do it:
--I hear you have plans for today and later and you're feeling pretty sure about
them.
--Just remember, you don't know what tomorrow holds.
--In this life, your life is as transient as a mist or vapor.
--It is good for you to rest your plans under the assumption that God's plans are always bigger and more important.
--Otherwise, you're being prideful in yourself.
--You know what is the right thing to do, so do it always, no matter what changes or circumstances arise, otherwise, it is the same as sinning.
I think that opportunities like quarantines show us the importance of having work to do and for crafting routines and making plans. But it's also humbling because it shows us that no matter what we decide to do, there are forces at work our of our control that can pin us down when we want to be moving. Our plans become like the steam out of a tea kettle, instead of the concrete securities that help us sleep at night. Our sense of purpose feels threatened, instead of solidified in our personal accomplishments.
I think it's interesting that in the following passages, James admonishes the rich, talking about the temporal nature of their materialistic wealth, and how they "lived on the earth in luxury and in self-indulgence." (5:5) Later, James admonishes the brethren as a whole, to be patient like a farmer who waits for the fruit to grow, and to "establish" their hearts (5:8).
What does this tell me, that James is first calling a person's life a misty vapor, and then admonishing these same people to be like a farmer? Aren't these two examples entirely different?
They're compatible, because the fleeting nature of my life is a reality. The patience of the farmer is an attitude. When I rest my hope and security in plans I have made for myself, I am leaning on a distorted reality. Consequently, patience will not be my knee-jerk reaction. I'm more likely to be anxious, troubled, and prideful, and totally disregard the good that I can do in an unexpected situation. When I have the mindset of a farmer, someone who prepares the field, sows the seed, nourishes the seed, and waits for growth, I know that there will be frosts and storms and animals and all kinds of elements that will come in and try to undo the work and progress I've made. But in establishing my heart in the Lord, I will be ready to do what I know is good, come what may.
"...you have seen the purpose of the Lord, how the Lord is compassionate and merciful." (5:11)
God's plans are bigger and layered with more grace and compassion than I could ever imagine. So let's grab the plow and dig where he wants us to dig, and wait when he wants us to wait.
Rebekah Craig
Yesterday morning we found out that what we thought was a nasty head cold in C-Dorm (affectionately coined by a friend), was the infamous COVID virus herself. It suddenly made a lot of sense why Dorm Dad has not been himself. Over the past year, our household has brushed by the virus, even up close and personal, but we somehow managed to make it through the whole year without contracting it. You would think that after a year of exposures, consequent on and off quarantines, and having to cancel and reschedule plans, that it would be a breeze. Even though I wasn't upset at anyone and certainly don't blame anybody, it left me particularly unsettled and self-concerned.
"But what about all of the plans I have coming up?"
"But...my routine."
"But I thought we were invincible."
"But this will throw us all off."
"I was just starting to hang out with people again."
While I tried to adjust to the cold-water change of routine that happened in the middle of the day yesterday, the well-known passage in James sat in the back of my mind. I finally sat down and read it today:
"Come now, you who say, 'today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade a make a profit' -- yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, 'if the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.' As it is, you boast in your arrogance. All such boasting is evil. So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin." (4:13-17)
If I were to outline this passage in a way that is relative to me, as if I were reiterating something James told me personally, this is how I would do it:
--I hear you have plans for today and later and you're feeling pretty sure about
them.
--Just remember, you don't know what tomorrow holds.
--In this life, your life is as transient as a mist or vapor.
--It is good for you to rest your plans under the assumption that God's plans are always bigger and more important.
--Otherwise, you're being prideful in yourself.
--You know what is the right thing to do, so do it always, no matter what changes or circumstances arise, otherwise, it is the same as sinning.
I think that opportunities like quarantines show us the importance of having work to do and for crafting routines and making plans. But it's also humbling because it shows us that no matter what we decide to do, there are forces at work our of our control that can pin us down when we want to be moving. Our plans become like the steam out of a tea kettle, instead of the concrete securities that help us sleep at night. Our sense of purpose feels threatened, instead of solidified in our personal accomplishments.
I think it's interesting that in the following passages, James admonishes the rich, talking about the temporal nature of their materialistic wealth, and how they "lived on the earth in luxury and in self-indulgence." (5:5) Later, James admonishes the brethren as a whole, to be patient like a farmer who waits for the fruit to grow, and to "establish" their hearts (5:8).
What does this tell me, that James is first calling a person's life a misty vapor, and then admonishing these same people to be like a farmer? Aren't these two examples entirely different?
They're compatible, because the fleeting nature of my life is a reality. The patience of the farmer is an attitude. When I rest my hope and security in plans I have made for myself, I am leaning on a distorted reality. Consequently, patience will not be my knee-jerk reaction. I'm more likely to be anxious, troubled, and prideful, and totally disregard the good that I can do in an unexpected situation. When I have the mindset of a farmer, someone who prepares the field, sows the seed, nourishes the seed, and waits for growth, I know that there will be frosts and storms and animals and all kinds of elements that will come in and try to undo the work and progress I've made. But in establishing my heart in the Lord, I will be ready to do what I know is good, come what may.
"...you have seen the purpose of the Lord, how the Lord is compassionate and merciful." (5:11)
God's plans are bigger and layered with more grace and compassion than I could ever imagine. So let's grab the plow and dig where he wants us to dig, and wait when he wants us to wait.
Rebekah Craig
RSS Feed