Training for Sight
“But Joseph said to them, “Do not fear, for am I in the place of God? As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today. So do not fear; I will provide for you and your little ones.” Thus he comforted them and spoke kindly to them.”
Genesis 50:19-21
As best I can, I try to start each day in my office in solitude: Quiet. Prayer. Reading a daily devotional. Journaling. Reading from whatever book or article is on the top of my stack of things to read. Pause. It’s a necessary “centering” time.* After I finished up my routine reflection this morning, I opened the door to my office and heard children singing a familiar song upstairs. My RenewEd office is in the basement of Covenant Presbyterian Church, and the church’s school Covenant Christian School concludes their “Morning Gathering” by singing boldly, beautifully, and joyfully. One of the hymns they sing most often is “This is My Father’s World,” written by Maltbie Babcock in 1901. The words to the first two stanzas of the hymn are displayed prominently alongside a beautiful mural in the school entrance. The children were singing the third stanza as I stood at the foot of the stairs, and listened as their voices filled the main floor of our church and school …
“This is my Father's world:
O let me ne'er forget
That though the wrong seems oft so strong,
God is the Ruler yet.
This is my Father's world:
Why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is King: let the heavens ring!
God reigns; let earth be glad!”
Hearing them sing might have done more to prepare me for the day than the alone-time I carved out for myself. At RenewEd, we talk quite a lot about the importance of rituals and rhythms; one may even call them liturgies. I’m deeply thankful for the songs the kiddos at Covenant Christian School sing; singing these songs in community is big part of what’s shaping them to see all things in light of God’s goodness. Because these songs are sung so often, they seep down beyond the students’ minds into their subconscious habits and desires. And, that excites me at the core of who I am! For, the life of the believer is characterized by this simple and profound truth … this is my Father’s world. But, this third stanza even recognizes that there’s the reality of forgetfulness. That’s why we need to sing these kinds of songs over and over again, so that these truths spring out of us when we’re not even thinking about them, because they’re just down in there … somewhere.
Two of my children were in that mass of singers upstairs, and it made me tear up a little bit to think about these truths trickling down into their hearts, as I hope that they become core to my kids’ outlooks on life. Studies show that most people’s worldviews are formalized by the time a person reaches the age of thirteen. When I thought about that, I prayed that God would write these words firmly on their hearts:
”This is my Father’s world.” “O Let me Ne’er forget” “Though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the Ruler yet.” “The Lord is King.” “God Reigns.” What an outlook on life! It’s such an honest reflection of what it looks like to live in the world, burdened by the realities of the Fall. But God still reigns and has never been threatened by the wreckages of sin. “The Lord is King … let earth be glad.”
As I reflect on the words to this stanza, I’m reminded of one of my favorite conversations in the Bible, taking place in the last chapter of Genesis. Now that their father Jacob had died, Joseph’s brothers are concerned that he could exact vengeance for the great suffering they brought into his life. Surprisingly, Joseph replies to them that he isn’t in the place of God and encourages them not to fear because their intentions for evil were used by God to bring about salvation for much of known world – themselves included (50:19-21). This great conversation reminds us that God is always at work, even when we can’t see it. Even in the darkest of times. That’s why we need songs like what my children were singing this morning – to remind us, “O let me ne'er forget that though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the Ruler yet.”
Of course, most Christians are very familiar with the stories like those of Jospeh, Daniel, and Esther; we know that God was faithful to bring about something great in the lives of his people, despite circumstances seemingly horribly wrong. Our familiarity with the “happy” endings often prevents us from sitting with the profound crises in which these biblical characters found themselves. Also, because of the nature of the children’s story versions we often associate with these stories, Joseph’s prison, the lion’s den, and the threat of the Jews’ annihilation all become sterilized in our minds’ eyes. However, pausing and stepping outside our familiarity helps us to see that these were the worst of situations, and what was behind each of them wasn’t a mere series of unfortunate events. Evil was ruling the day … “that though the wrong seems oft so strong.”
Merely scroll through the news for a handful of minutes, and you’ll be confronted with the realities of evil. Unfortunately, we can keep many of these stories at arm’s length, because they’re happening somewhere “out there.” Maybe we won’t see obvious atrocities first hand in our lifetimes, but we will witness wrongdoing. Of course we will, because we do our own fair shares of what’s wrong and are surrounded by others who do the same. We’ll also witness the effects of evil when people aren’t necessarily directly to blame, but these instances provide reminders of how much brokenness surrounds us. Loneliness, betrayal, disease, loss, heartache. We will all come face to face with enough pain and suffering where our own chorus will repeat …”that though the wrong seems oft so strong.” We can count on it, and how will we face it when it happens?
It doesn’t make sense that Joseph had the capacity to see God at work in the midst of the immense trials of his life. The only way we can explain it is that God worked in his life so that Joseph was postured toward seeing his situation through the lens of God’s sovereignty. Once again, we read the story in hindsight. But Joseph was confessing these truths as the trials were happening. Daniel found confidence in God’s control when no one could see any way out of his predicament. Esther was scared to the point where she could barely act. None of these make sense, by any human accord.
It’s so easy, though, to read these stories and focus on the strength of these Old Testament believers - to make their obedience become the central part of these stories. These characters were human just like us; I’m sure the unsterilized realities of their situations left them terrified beyond actions, words, or thought. Yet, when Joseph and Daniel recount their situations, they focus on what God has done. It’s as though the writers of these stories insist that we hear from the mouths of these heroes that it was never about them, lest we focus on the heroes. They’re directing our attention toward seeing the God at work rather than the ones God was working through. It’s all about a way of seeing.
The educator in me concludes that this way of seeing doesn’t just happen over night. It’s ignited by the efficacious work of the Holy Spirit and nurtured through a strong foundation that’s built by the training of habits and rituals. The story of Jospeh gives us a glimpse into the “training” that Joseph received in pit of the prison. Moses tells us that the LORD was with Joseph even there and continued to bestow His steadfast love (His hesed) on him, and I believe that much of this love positioned Joseph habitually toward seeing his situation through the lens of God’s care for him, which is recounted over and over in the story. The Lord was with him. The story of Daniel describes a similar theme of the Lord nearness to Daniel, and we also see of Daniel’s commitment to regular prayer. It’s as though their moments of greatest strength and faithfulness were forged in the crucible of learning to see God’s nearness in the darkest of situations.
That’s why we pray, “O let me ne’er forget … God is the ruler yet.” That’s why we do everything we can to create rhythms and habits of confessing God’s steadfast love so we can be properly armed when “the wrong seems oft so strong.” Those times will force our deepest emotions to rise to the surface – those aspects most core to who we are. And, as we learn from St. Augustine and his many disciples (both ancient and present day) that we are what we love. Our desires and longings are most central to making us who we really are. And our desires and longings are shaped by habits and rituals.
The cultural pressures of the day seek to train us and our kids to love ourselves, our entitlements, our comfort, our perspectives, and our safety above all else. But a life of faith tells us that the only way we will ever find comfort is recognizing that we are not our own. That it’s not about us. Flannery O’Connor says that we have to push as hard as the culture of the day presses against us. Because that pressure isn’t going to cause us to naturally cling to the handiwork of God in the midst of seemingly everything unwinding around us, we have to establish another way of seeing.
That way of seeing starts with singing songs like “This is my Father’s World.” It starts with repetitive confessions of foundational truths so they sink down into the cores of our beings, eventually shaping what we most long for and welling back out of us when we least expect it. If we’re ever going to come to a place where we “ne’re forget …,” it’s going to start with building habits that reorder our perspectives. Yes, it’s incredibly easy to view morning gatherings as though they take time away from more “important” curriculum. Family devotions take away from the myriad ways we’ll waste time in the evenings. Returning to church on Sunday night takes away from the restfulness of a Sunday evening with nothing to do. It’s so easy to see them as “taking,” but the far greater reality is a recognition of what they give. These sorts of habits and rhythms shape us (and especially our children if this becomes a norm in their formative years) to see all things through the reality of God’s control and steadfast love. They properly reorder and balance us against the upside down ravages of the Fall. They give us the tools to stand up to the onslaught of the world and reply,
“Why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is King: let the heavens ring!
God reigns; let earth be glad!”
… This is my Father’s World. O Let me ne’er forget …
*This centering time allows me to accomplish a good chunk of things that are part of my daily disciplines, outlined in a recent post on daily rhytms and rituals. And, this time is also a big part of my own work to train this way of seeing.
