Every time I try to neatly contain him in a box, he insists on exploding out of it. Every time I attempt to predict how he is going to work, he does something different. Every time I try to order my theology into five neat little points, he shows me a text that refuses to fit.
What do I do with a God who so steadfastly refuses to be pigeonholed that he will work outside the formulas he himself created?
I try to expand my theology to make everything fit, until I am left with something so cumbersome it becomes useless and comical. I twist myself into contortions attempting to do just the right thing, act just the right way, and somehow force God to act in the way I think he ought to. I lock myself into my watertight, safe little life and hope he doesn't mess things up.
But he does. He always does. Or, at least, he sometimes does.
We sing the chorus three times, dim the lights, cut the drums, and expect God to move in our worship service, but a crying baby messes things up.
We tithe faithfully and give to the poor when we can, and we expect God to provide for us, except that the rent is due and there's no money in the bank to pay it.
We don't swear, smoke, dance, or chew, and we expect God to bless us with a comfortable life, but then we get the pink slip, or the positive diagnosis, or a drunk driver hits us on the highway.
I was reminded of it again this weekend, when I heard Psalm 44. It starts off so great.
We have heard with our ears, O God;
our fathers have told us what you did in their days, in days long ago.
With your hand you drove out the nations and planted our fathers;
you crushed the peoples and made our fathers flourish.
It was not by their sword that they won the land,
nor did their arm bring them victory;
it was your right hand, your arm, and the light of your face,
for you loved them.
You are my King and my God, who decrees victories for Jacob.
Through you we push back our enemies;
through your name we trample our foes.
I do not trust in my bow, my sword does not bring me victory;
but you give us victory over our enemies,
you put our adversaries to shame.
In God we make our boast all day long
and we will praise your name for ever.
That's so awesome. We do our part, God does his part. He brings us victory over our enemies, blesses our endeavours, and we glorify him. Everyone is happy. It's tidy and comforting. It's what we expect. That's where we finished reading on the weekend. I wish it ended there. I really do.
But it doesn't.
The next lines read:
But now you have rejected and humbled us; you no longer go out with our armies
You made us retreat before the enemy, and our adversaries have plundered us.
You gave us up to be devoured like sheep and have scattered us among the nations
You sold your people for a pittance, gaining nothing from their sale.
You have made us a reproach to our neighbours, the scorn and derision of those around us.
You have made us a byword among the nations; the peoples shake their heads at us.
My disgrace is before me all day long, and my face is covered with shame
at the taunts of those who reproach and revile me, because of the enemy, who is bent on revenge.
That's bad. That's really bad. Life is just not going the way I want it to. In fact, life is about as bad as it can get. But that's not the worst of it. The worst of it is this:
All this happened to us, though we had not forgotten you or been false to your covenant.
Our hearts had not turned back; our feet had not strayed from your path.
But you crushed us and made us a haunt for jackals and covered us over with deep darkness.
If we had forgotten the name of our God or spread out our hands to a foreign god,
would not God have discovered it, since he knows the secrets of the heart?
Yet for your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.
God, what?? I'm doing my level best here to serve you, to love you, to follow you. I'm giving everything I can, or at least everything I think I can to live for you. I am doing everything I can to be faithful. And this is it? Crushing and a haunt for jackals and deep darkness? It makes no sense!
Because God refuses to be bound by formulas. He is unpredictable, untameable, uncontrollable.
So what do I do with a God who utterly defies formulas?
I learn to wrestle with him. He's big enough to take my pain and my questions when things don't make sense. The Psalmist in Psalm 44 does. He tells God to wake up and do something now! The psalms are full of people questioning God and challenging him to act on their behalf. So I wrestle with my questions.
I learn to trust him. Even when things don't make sense, I trust that he is still on the throne. He is still working. And, most importantly, his heart toward me is still one of love, even when nothing makes sense and I am in the middle of the darkness. Psalm 44 ends with the words "unfailing love". It is why I can wrestle. It is why I can trust. Because his heart toward me is always, always "unfailing love".
I learn to live in the mystery. I learn to live in a relationship that is always new, always exciting, always changing, growing, and deepening. It's terrifying. It's wonderful. It's terrifyingly wonderful. If I am honest with myself, it is the mystery that makes it wonderful. What kind of a god would he be if I could control him and manipulate him with dimmed lights, hushed drums, planned giving, and the right kind of prayers? What kind of a god would he be if I could control him at all? I don't want a god I can control. I want the Mystery.
What do I do with a God who utterly defies formulas?
I love him. I worship him.
And I hold on for dear life.
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