Reading... and Living... Between the Lines

A very wise man once said:

Of making many books there is no end, and much study is a weariness of the flesh.
Ecc. 12:12

I read a lot, on various topics. I read fluff and I read lead-weight tomes. I also listen to a couple of podcasts like White Horse Inn when I can. I have devotional books, weekly sermons, and multiple conversations on a variety of topics on a daily/weekly basis.

Sometimes I think this is good for me.

And sometimes I think it's... not.

Some things glide over and leave no lasting residue, some things settle and work on me, maturing me. And some things stick in the craw. And then there are some things that I just don't know what to make of.

That last part is the part that probably makes up the majority of anything of significance. It might be something that is worthy of effort and attention -- and then again, it might be worth tossing. The problem is, I don't always know from page 1: discernment takes time and concentration and an effort at understanding the whole. I find this extremely uncomfortable, this in-between place where ignorance is being exposed but wisdom hasn't yet made its appearance. It's humbling to learn or re-learn! Re-learning is probably more humbling than learning. Oh, how many times have I been so sure... only to find out that that particular house I was building had a sandy foundation.

I've been there enough times to know that I don't know it all. But here's the rub: you have to start somewhere if you want to get anywhere. And so I start with another topic, another book, and I go through periods of discomfort and restlessness, waiting for God to work on me and put all those jangling pieces in my head together into some cohesive whole.

And then...

And then comes the hardest part of all. Then comes the question:

So what?

What do I do with new ideas and new revelations? Maybe it's a revelation of error or ignorance. Maybe it's a lightbulb moment and another brick is laid instead of another stronghold being demolished. Either way, the result is discomfort for a season, a place where I am forced to trust God to keep what He has entrusted to me. A time to practice trusting Him with my soul and the outcome of my life's efforts.

Do you ever read something or learn something and think, "I've done it all wrong, now what? What a wasted opportunity I've had..." When I have moments like that my first reaction is to race to fix it, to look for the outline form to fill in with answers. That would be so satisfying --

But instead we're all asked to live in the not-knowing, the not-now, the not-yet. We're asked to believe that "He who began a good work in you will complete it" and that "He is able to keep" those people we love, whose lives we touch for good or ill. So for me, as I read and learn and re-learn, I have to remember this charge given by Peter:

"Be diligent to be found by Him... in peace."
2 Peter 3:14

Meekness, according to Elisabeth Elliott, is the willingness to be taught. It is the sister of humility. I am not a meek person by nature, neither am I naturally humble. To learn to be meek is one thing -- to learn to be meek and at peace is quite another.

"It is good for the heart to be strengthened by grace," said the writer of Hebrews. If it's one thing I'm learning of late, it's that this pilgrimage is a long one, and the destination is the only point of "arrival." Still, we have to live and move and be in this world... we have to make decisions and use our good judgment, even when we know our hearts are deceitful and wicked and our judgment is cloudy at best. Christians know better than anyone how our fallen state affects all corners of our daily lives. This is an uncomforable place, like I said - to be required and responsible to use fallen instruments righteously, to make wise judgments with fallen natures and to see clearly when the mirror is dark and the window pane is wonky.

So this is why Christ must be front and center. He alone is able to save us from ourselves, even redeeming the errors we make in order to use them for our good. This is grace, and it strengthens weak hearts. So I whisper to myself in moments of fear or panic, "His is able... It is kept."

Yes - "all shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well."