Westminster Confessions

I, like just about everyone else, don’t like being frantic. I want peace and tranquility. I talk about living in the boat where Jesus was sleeping in the midst of the storm. I want to have that peace which supercedes the storms that swirl about me. But I have come to realize that if you were an “outside” observer to my life, you would often see just the opposite: a soul being tossed about on the sea, while she tried to claw her way back into the boat. Therein is the first problem! I know where I want to be (I’ve identified what peace and contentment should look like), but I am trying to claw my way back into the boat, instead of letting Jesus take my arm and place me there (I haven’t quite got the process right)!

I think this comes back to my lack of real apprehension of God’s sovereignty and sufficiency. I know Jesus is my hope, I know God is in control, I know He is all I need. Well, that is what I say. That is what I can “prove” from scripture. But the confession of my mouth and the creed of my behavior are not lining up! Obviously, there is something missing here. I think that one way I can grow in moving toward the goal of really believing God’s sovereignty and sufficiency is to honestly recognize that I don’t believe He is! How crushing! A (reformed!) seminarian who doesn’t really believe God is sovereign? I must think that I can do a better job (how prideful and arrogant!) I elevate my abilities to divine strength (isn’t this close to being blasphemous?) Well, at least that is exactly what my actions are proclaiming.

My two-year-old grandson, Ethan, loves trucks. He likes stories about trucks, he makes noises like trucks, he pretends he is pulling the whistle like a truck driver. But when he is walking down the street with his mom and a truck comes near, he is completely filled with fear—even though his mother is holding him and telling him he is safe. He does not believe that his mom can keep him safe from the truck. The very thing he desires to enjoy is ruined because he won’t trust that his mom is able to care for him and keep him safe. I’m just like that. I desire peace, but I don’t believe that the Lord is able to care for me and give me that peace. I scream and struggle even as I am in His strong, caring arms!

I, along with the father spoken of in Mark 9 (with the mute son), must cry out, “I believe; help my unbelief!” So that is the first step I take. Falling before God in prayer that he will help my unbelief. Then I will speak to my soul (like the Psalmist) with the scriptures that assure me that God is my very helper and strength, my sufficiency. These scriptures speak of the reason for the peace that I need to cling to. I need to memorize them!

God speaks to us in many different ways. A good exercise is to look at how different kinds of Scripture meet us in our daily living. Some scriptures give us models of behavior (Ps 131 and Mark 9) which instruct by example. Others offer words of promise and hope. Ps 54:4 “The Lord is the upholder of my life.” Ps 86:10,11 “For you are great and do wondrous things; you ALONE are God. Teach me your way, O Lord, that I may walk in your truth (not mine!); unite my heart (Oh I love that phrase!) to fear your name.”

Thinking through the issue of learning to “be still” opened a floodgate of evaluation of unbelief, pride, haughtiness, and arrogance… things I never thought about when previously trying to work on acquiring peace, stillness, and contentment. It wasn’t about the “busyness” around me, or about better time/commitment managment, it really is more about the things swirling in my heart. Peace, be still my soul.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, October 19th, 2004 at 8:57 pm and is filed under Academia, General. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.