"Do not be deceived, Wormwood. Our cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer desiring, but still intending, to do our Enemy's will, looks round upon a universe from which every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys."
-CS Lewis, "The Screwtape Letters"
CS Lewis embarked on the writing of The Screwtape Letters with the intention of showing how easily human thought and being can be twisted and manipulated. In a split second everything is different, though nothing in the physical world has changed. Very small changes in thought and habit can bring about massive chaos and destruction in a person's life. So why do we insist on thinking we can predict and change outcomes, when the minutiae of daily life so often escapes us? Despite our asinine type-A attempts to control every factor, crap happens. Little human self-help methods for attaining control fail miserably. Try what you will--charts, graphs, recorded reminders, a handy dandy notepad, or even just repeating the same routine over and over again, eventually, it will fail.
Human control strategies can't even overcome our own forgetfulness, much less the infinite possibilities that could unfold with a decision as simple as sitting down on a park bench or sneezing into your left sleeve rather than your right. When that happens, the unplanned unknown sneaks up on us and bites us, and there's not a thing we can do about it. We're thrown headlong into a maze of circumstances that there was no way we could plan for. Those are the consequences of being a human.
Fortunately, and against all odds, there is a Father in Heaven that knows we're scatterbrained doofuses who are one head blow away from playing with crayons for the rest of our lives. He created us to be His companions, and He wants us to be fully reliant on Him, not because He wants to control us, but rather quite the opposite, that He wants us to grow. He wants us to be able to function without hearing a word from His mouth every two seconds. This is desireable for us, too. Hey, let's me honest, the life of an Old Testament prophet was pretty uncool. Apparently, hearing the voice of God on a regular basis causes psychotic behavior, weird contests with idol worshipers, funky hair, and entomophagy (eating bugs. I know, I know, that's New Testament, but it's still in the Bible). So that's why we have concrete words printed in a handy little book that we can return to time and again. That is how we look around, see a desolate world that it seems God has abandoned, and despite the fact that everything in us is screaming to come up with a plan B before it's too late, we still obey. That's when we learn strength without the extra motivation of warm fuzzy feelings, which never hang around. That's the provision of God for a mean and unstable species who, half the time, has their fingers up their noses to the second knuckle while He's trying to speak.
For instance, I was driving to work today. In Bedford. From Crowley. About a 45 minute drive. Before I left I made sure to make up a nice little lunch, and told myself every minute or so while I was making it, "I have to put this into my bag, or I'll forget it." Put it in a tupperware container. "I gotta put this into my little tote bag, or I'll leave it here." Add salt, pepper, and garlic, the three ingredients for wholesale happiness. "Okay, so I'll stir this up, and then put the lid on and put it in my tote bag." Stir. "Tote bag, tote bag, tote bag."
Not surprisingly, I was IN Bedford before I realized I had left the food sitting on the counter. Shocking, I know. Next time I'll warn you with something big and shiny to let you know a jump scene is coming up. Anyway, that was the crap happening.
I was already running behind and would have been late if I had stopped somewhere, so I gritted my teeth nervously and pressed on. Maybe I would just order a plate from the kitchen when the patients were served dinner. That was my human type-A plan for control.
Everything on the patient menu was meat stuffed with meat with meat sauce and gravy on top, with sugar cubes dipped in honey for dessert. Those who know me know that meat and I are not on speaking terms, and really, REALLY need to cut back on the sugar. So much for the plan.
So I called up Jen Berger. Before I was even done asking her if she could please, maybe, if it wasn't too much trouble, and I completely understood if she couldn't, but I'd really like some food, she was all, "Do you want me to bring you some Subway? How about a footlong?" In an hour there was a fresh, tasty edible in my happy little hands.
And that's called Grace.
You see, despite our humanity and flaws and our "durr what was I supposed to be doing?" moments, God has a little tool He pulls out when things get really rough, and we've done nothing to merit being bailed out, but regardless can't make it another moment without help. It's called Grace. I've been using up enough for two people lately, but somehow, I think there's enough to go around. If not, I'm sure we can send Jen Berger out for more. I hear God's Grace is made fresh daily.
Okay, so I'm ending with a bad Subway/Grace renewal pun. What of it?
Go watch TV. Go!!
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