Sunday, September 16, 2012

Counterfeit Assurances

It was the middle of fourth hour, around noon, when God interrupted me during silent reading with my students. Not with words, but with an impulse to pray. And not to pray for praying's sake, but to pray very specifically: for my 5-year old, Lewis, that God would protect him, that God would protect him while he rode his bike. I had four kids then and would usually pray for all if I prayed for one, but not this time. I would pray only for Lewis. So I prayed silently for a few minutes then taught my class.

When I got home later that day, my mom, who was watching the kids, met me as I got out of my car. She had a burdened look and said, "I have to tell you about something that happened today." Lewis, she explained, had bolted off the sidewalk into our busy street. He'd been on his bike. Cars coming from both directions had had to slam on their brakes to stop. It had scared my mom so badly that she felt she had to confess it now and still looked sick about it some four hours later. I asked her what time this had happened. They'd been on their way back for lunch. "Around noon," she said.

Evidences of God's provision abound in my life, not because I'm super spiritual (not even sure what that means) but because I'm weak and dim-witted and need my eyes knocked open. Most of the time the effect is good--I see God's hand and am edified. On my better days I tell people about it and God is glorified. 

But a dangerous effect of God moving dramatically in my life is that I come to depend on it. I don't mean depend on as in I count on it happening often (seeking experiences for their own sake would be bad), nor do I mean that I'm depending on God himself (that would be a very good thing). Rather, I find myself depending on the visible providence itself, pointing to it as a proof of God's favor. Not in so many words, of course--I would never say, "Remember when God did that wild thing for me way back when? I must be right with him!"--but in an attitude and an unconscious posture.  And I sometimes feel the counterfeit assurance that's rooted in such thoughts.

It's a dangerous way to think.

Saul may have bought this lie too. In 1 Samuel 10 we read that Samuel anointed Saul as God's chosen, that Saul was filled with God's spirit and made into a different person. The Bible says that God "changed Saul's heart." That's conversion language. Early in Saul's rule over Israel this seems to have been confirmed as God came to his aid mightily and helped him deliver his people from their enemies. 

Then came the spiraling down. Saul sets up a monument to himself, disobeys God and lets Agag live. He lets his soldiers take items devoted for destruction and tries to lie his way out of the sin. For these, the Lord rejects him as king. But things get worse: he tries to skewer David three times, swears to kill him, kills the priests of Nob, and threatens his own son with death. Yet after all that, we read this remarkable passage: "So Saul went to Naioth at Ramah. But the Spirit of God came even on him, and he walked along prophesying until he came to Naioth."  

This catches when I read it, and my first thought is to wonder why God would fill a man with his spirit if not to save him? I wonder if God's Saul Project just failed. But I don't wonder these things for long. I know that God fails at nothing, and that no one is to blame but Saul. 

And then I ask myself a better question: If I had been in Saul's shoes, what would I have made of it? The answer to that one is simple: I know what I would have done in his shoes because I've been there. I would have taken it as a sign of God's favor and gone on boldly in the same direction. I would have taken it as approval of the life I was living. After all, that's pretty heady stuff, being anointed by Samuel, being made into a new man. I probably would have thought I was locked in. 


God's purposes are his own, and how he chooses to manifest himself to his creation must never comprise the basis of our faith. I must point to no miracle in my life to say, "That's how I know I'm justified!" I can--and must!--point to Christ and his work. I can point to words like these: There is no other name under heaven by which we must be saved or to these: he who believes has eternal life and will not be condemned. That he moves close to us and in a visible way--rescuing our kids from danger, say--should be encouragement for the Christian, but it should no more assure us of true faith, than Saul's prophesying should have assured Saul.

Don't hear me wrong--I am deeply thankful for God's intervening mercies. Answers to prayer should be made much of. Whether they're sudden and visible, or slow and behind-the-scenes, they're all "miraculous." But when I point to them it must never be to show how good I am, but to show how good God is.


  


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