April 9, 2012
Too frequently, I find myself defined by my pathology; sometimes, I think I’m pathetic. Voices that have been dead for decades still echo in my mind… when it’s quiet all around me. Does that ever happen to you?
Some phrases haunt me; here's one I heard from the heavies during my upbringing: "No 'Buts'! I don't want to hear any 'Buts.' Just do it!" That must have come into the heritage somewhere back in the shadows of history; somewhere between Eden and Orange County, "No 'Buts'" became a mandatory mantra to get me out of the debate mode and into action.
Maybe you heard the same thing (could we be – somehow – related)? Some words are marked, for me, for life; buts have a bad rap, based on my family history. But…
I've been learning something about my other family – the one that adopted me, spiritually, when I was just a child. In this Family of God environment, I've discovered that our Father – the One in heaven – has made the “But” word part of His affirming operating style. Whassup?
There is a word couplet that shows up without fanfare in God's account of life on planet Earth; if you don't know to watch for them, you could miss a big part of the story. The duo? Here it is: “But God…” May I introduce you to that attractive word couple?
But God. Those may be anonymous-looking faces in the literary multitude who live between Genesis and Revelation, but they show up in the most amazing moments in the story! Like a Where's Waldo game, when you spot those six letters joined-up in that order, throw a spotlight on them: something's about to happen. Like… what?
First occurrence was early, on the first installment of the mini-series. It had rained for forty days; then, no dry land had appeared for nearly four months. Almost half-a-year surrounded by the floods of judgment; for the eight folks – and the Animal Planet cast below-decks – the prospects for life as they had once known it were drowning. What next? Watch it; there's that couplet: “But God remembered Noah and all the… animals… and He sent a wind over the earth, and the waters receded…” (Genesis 8:1). But God…
Here's another: same book, later chapters introduce us to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. Numerous But Gods woven into their lifespans. Joseph – son of Jacob – is introduced as Most Likely to Succeed among 12 sons. Oops; they gang up against him, sell him as a slave, export him to Egypt with tall-tales for dad about his untimely death by wild beasts. You know the story: he ends up COO for Pharaoh in Egypt, administering the food program in a severe regional drought. His brothers come begging; Joseph secretly provides for them, then pops out of the cake (so to speak) and “surprises” them. Later, fearing for their lives, they ask him if he is going for revenge. His answer? “…Don't be afraid. Am I in the place of God? You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives…” (Genesis 50:19-20). But God…
Paul got it. Sharing the Gospel with Jewish expatriates in Pisidian Antioch, he explained it this way: “When they carried out all that was written about him, they took him down from the tree and laid him in a tomb. But God raised him from the dead…” (Acts 13:30). But God…
The point? I call them Divine Inflection Points; they are the places in any story when the trend-line is interrupted by a turning point of massive importance. They are the moments in the movie when you don't want to be out getting popcorn: the whole story depends on the dramatic shift. In the Big Story – God's Story – He steps away from predictability when he signals His exception to the momentum with those two words: But God…
We spent yesterday – Easter! – declaring a “But God…” event in that tomb! Wow! Don't know how you're doing right now, but you may be approaching a But God… moment …
Bob Shank