All things are possible, except when they aren’t
Yesterday, following a typical morning round of errands, I found myself back at home relaxing in my favorite chair when my adult son Joseph approached with a request.
Joe’s requests are not easy to decipher, because he doesn’t talk, or write, or even sign beyond a couple very basic gestures. On this occasion he was tapping his knuckles together, which is supposed to mean “More.” For him, it can also indicate a general dissatisfaction or a request for something undefined. Given the time of day, I had a pretty good idea he was pointing out that it was lunch time. He wanted me to go downstairs and serve up something good to eat.
If and when you understand what’s needed, the simplest response with a dependent like Joe is just to go do it. However, I tend to coach him to make more of an effort to communicate. His response, after walking away and returning a few times, was to take hold of my hand, pull me to my feet, and coax me toward the stairs. At that point I went ahead and put lunch on the table.
Okay, that’s a frequent scenario at our house. It typifies the aftermath of the far more intense, fraught, and manic scenarios depicted in What About the Boy?, and it’s offered here as a lead-in to a meditation prompted by something I heard this morning in church.
(Incidentally, the above graphic comes from a back issue of our church’s newsletter. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to re-use it.)
The text this morning was the passage in Exodus when God directs Moses to go before Pharaoh on behalf of the enslaved Israelites, and Moses protests that, being “slow of speech and of tongue,” he won’t be equal to the task. But no, apparent disadvantages will not be a problem, the Lord says. “Who has made man’s mouth? Who makes him mute, or deaf, or seeing, or blind? Is it not I, the Lord?”
The pastor’s intent was to say that if you choose to accept a task set before you, you’ll be empowered to succeed. But because Joseph is never far from my thoughts, the “who makes him mute” bit hijacked my attention. In all the years of Joseph’s life, I have never believed it was God that made him disabled, or wanted him so. The Bible is filled with accounts of healing, and I’ve assumed God’s will is for everyone to be whole. When we aren’t, it’s a consequence of something that occurred contrary to His will. But, being in control as He is, God could make things right.
That was always the issue for me. Why doesn’t He? Joe’s mom and I and a great many other people had certainly asked in every way we knew how, over a very long period of time. Surely, we reasoned, God would be glorified far more by Joseph’s being freed from his profound limitations, and by the effect that would have on everyone else.
Enabled or not, I’d thought this was the task set before me, and that success would be something akin to wellness for Joe, or at least acquisition of some options in life.
However, the above sequence regarding lunch is about as constructive as it ever gets around here.
Despite having been to a lot of churches, I’ve never heard any pastor (or anyone else for that matter) address this problem coherently. I now doubt anyone can. As shown in my book, there was a period of time when we were attracted to the promise of charismatic figures like Kenneth Copeland, who says it’s just common sense that we should claim our good (“The sweet by-and-by is fine, but what about the rotten here-and-now?”). I eventually decided human reason and common sense are not relevant in this case.
What is relevant? Surrender. Surrender and gratitude. I understand that to be the correct answer, but saying it with conviction is hard for me. Other aspects of life may go well. But for Joseph, someone’s always going to be helping him with his meals, and with everything else. And I’m never going to understand why.
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