The Knitting Theologian

One word, Ma’am, he said, coming back from the fire; limping, because of the pain. “One word. All you’ve been saying is quite right, I shouldn’t wonder. I’m a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won’t deny any of what you said. But there’s one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things–trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that’s a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We’re just babies playing a game, if you’re right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That’s why I’m going to stand by the play-world. I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t any Aslan to lead it. I’m going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia. (C.S. Lewis, The Silver Chair, Harper Collins Publishers, 1953, pp. 181-182.)

That sums up pretty much how I feel after yet another dinner trying to field questions like “how do you know God isn’t just made up?” and “why doesn’t God show up at this dinner table if He is real?” and “the Pope isn’t the real Pope–he doesn’t make his own appearances, he has a stunt double.”

I mean, really. I think I handled the last one OK. But I don’t seem to be able to come up with acceptable answers to the others. I have heard it said, many times, that “God doesn’t call the equipped; God equips the called.” I don’t feel very equipped, and I don’t know what God is trying to do  here.

The  Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

There are multiple dimensions to that word, “want.” Not only is there the material dimension, that I shall not lack food or shelter, the basic necessities of life, along with the birds of the air and the flowers of the field, but there are spiritual dimensions as well. I thought about how some of my wants have enslaved me, and how if I truly follow Jesus as my shepherd I will be freed from those enslavements.

Those sorts of wants have so often been about me exercising my will, trying to make the world into what I want, thinking that everything depends on me, that I am responsible for it all. I have come to see how false that is and how treacherous, how often that thinking, those sorts of wants, take me away from God, rather than toward Him.

In verdant pastures he gives me repose;
Beside restful waters he leads me;
he refreshes my soul.

Here is a lovely picture of rest, of the result of coming unto Jesus and resting in Him, of what happens when I freely take His yoke upon my shoulders and discover that it truly is easy and His burden light. When I can unreservedly place all my trust in Jesus, setting my will aside for His, I receive his love and care, and I can truly rest. The refreshment I receive from this kind of rest is deeper and longer-lasting than any I might receive from the sort of rest or relaxation offered by things of this world.

When I forget to be aware of His presence in all areas of my life, when I fall back into the trap of thinking that there are areas of my life in which He wants no part and for which I bear sole responsibility, then the yoke is difficult and the burden heavy. And yet He is present. I can cry out to Him in a breath, a thought, and experience His rest.

He guides me in right paths
for his name’s sake.

He guides me. All it takes is to set aside my will and follow His. All it takes is to remember that I am not in charge, that the responsibility for doing it perfectly does not rest solely upon me. He will guide me in the right way if I only allow Him.

Thinking that I have to do everything myself, and that I am responsible for doing everything perfectly at all times is an old burden that I have shouldered for so long I can’t remember a time when I didn’t feel that way. Until recently, when I began–not without difficulty and pain, mind–to learn that I do nothing truly without Him, and that following His will is the way to drop that old burden and start anew.

Even though I walk in the dark valley
I fear no evil; for you are at my side
With your rod and staff
that give me courage.

I have gone through some very dark places this summer. I don’t think I’m finished yet. But for the first time–some of these dark places are unfortunately familiar–I am aware of His presence. He is truly with me. I have experienced the truth of this verse. I have received courage from Him when I have called out to Him in the darkness, and I have been able to look at my passage through the darkness as a necessary part of the journey rather than as an unexpected detour that is my fault. For that gift I am truly grateful.