So the story is picked up in verse three of chapter five this morning. Jesus has pulled his disciples up the hillside and is, in essence, whispering in their ears, the secret to His Kingdom that he is ushering in at this moment. If you listen close, you too might be able to hear it. "All of what you have seen me do, you to will do it...even more so. Only it's not going to come the way you think it is. Here's how it works."
"You're blessed when you're at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule." v.3
What? End of my rope? Poor in Spirit? That sounds a little odd. When the disciples first heard this, they probably heard something like, "You will be at your happiest when you are like the beggar on the side of the road. They are the ones who have space for the kingdom of God." Like the beggar, our dependence in the kingdom of God is not self-dependent, but God dependent. We realize that everything we have or own comes from Father and even the ability to simply go to work is a gift from Him. In our culture, this verse seems extremely difficult because we are a nation that seems to pride itself, in many cases, on our independence - nationally and personally. The "kingdom of America" (i.e., the American Dream) is sustained by a belief that I can do it, I can buy it and I deserve it. This just doesn't sound like "the end of our rope."
I must, at this point, let you in on my personal bias here. As a Christ-follower, I firmly believe that God is writing a story that is larger than the one I am living, individually. In my story, I am the lead actor, but in Father's story, I am a supporting actor at best and He takes center stage. When I am at the end of my rope, it allows space for Father's dream to form, not just in my life but in all of the relationships He has given me. If I am continually at the top of my ladder, then there is no space there for Father. The supporting actor is there to make the lead actor look good.
This "end of rope" living recognizes that it's not all about me. In fact, very little really is about me. When I allow space for God's dream in my life, I get to taste the kingdom of heaven while roaming this earth. When I realize it's not about me, then I can see things the way Jesus would see them. I can respond to the weak and the hurting because I know that in them there is the kingdom of God. I can rest in tomorrow because Father's story is bigger than my story.
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I think the concept that we are living a story, a larger one than just our own little story where we think we play the starring role, is true. And we are in the midst of it.
(excerpt from Telling the Truth: The Gospel as Tragedy, Comedy and Fairy Tale
By: Frederick Buechner)
"It is a world of magic and mystery, of deep darkness and flickering starlight. It is a world where terrible things happen and wonderful things too. It is a world where goodness is pitted against evil, love against hate, order against chaos, in a great struggle where often it is hard to be sure who belongs to which side because appearances are endlessly deceptive. Yet for all its confusion and wildness, it is a world where the battle goes ultimately to the good, who live happily ever after, and where in the long run everybody, good and evil alike, becomes known by his true name . . . That is the fairy tale of the Gospel with, of course, one crucial difference from all other fairy tales, which is that the claim made for it is that it is true, that it not only happened once upon a time but has kept on happening ever since and is happening still."
Will there ever be a time when I gladly accept being at the rope's end? I know how true this is, but I still go through a very angry phase when I am losing control. I eventually get to an acceptance and find joy in trusting God completely, but it may take me hours, or even days.
The periods in my life where God was the MOST HUGE were when I was beyond the end of my rope. I was facing giants every day that I knew without a doubt I didn't have what it took to survive them. I had no choice but to 'fix my eyes on Him...' I lived daily in the midst of the suffering chaos of violence and true fear… BUT, in it, I knew that I knew that He would use it for His glory somehow. He promised, and that was what got me through each day during that time. I've never been closer than I was then, and I miss - not the terrifying days - but the proximity to Him where He was more real, more tangible than ever.
I am privileged to see the other side of that mountain now as He does, indeed, keep His promise to work it all together for His good purposes and glory. The only problem is, here I am, most certainly living out that purpose, but I'm not in the middle of the desperation, the chaos, and I feel disconnected. The fiercely bright connection to Him that was necessary for survival dims with the mundane day-to-day battle where I’m not in the middle of the fire. So, what? How to re-capture that brilliance without the pain and desperation of the times of intense suffering?? On the days that I’m comfortably near the middle-end of my rope? I suppose I should enjoy the comfort while it’s here, right? Or take more risks so as to re-capture that ‘edge’?
Thoughts, friends?
Hey knitgirl, it's great to see you back on...the holidays are a wonderful thing, aren't they?
I hear stories like yours often, and I remember one specifically. Early in my marriage, we were scared by some medical issues. I spoke with a friend of ours who had lost her husband to cancer several years earlier, leaving her with three young children. She said to me, "Brad, I don't wish for anything bad to happen, but if it means you get to walk as close to God as we did, then I hope you get to experience that."
For us, everything was fine, but we missed whatever it was she was talking about. She's one of those people that just seem to spend her days with Jesus. Not in a weird way, but in a real way. It's inspiring. Her words have haunted me in some ways, though. It's a bit disheartening to think that God dwells in the brokenness of our lives, if we aren't broken. However, it's incredibly hopeful if we are.
I don't want to pursue suffering, but I want the fruit that so often seems to accompany it. There have to be other options? Right?
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