Here is my response to my sponsee, concerning things changing:
“Dear __________,
I was struck by the following sentence which set me thinking: “Still feeling ready for things to be different, still feeling willing to do whatever it takes for that to happen, and enjoying having a nice day as opposed to the miserable days I’ve had recently.”
“. . . ready for things to be different . . . .” Yes! I suspect that we all are. But, as you suggest, that is somewhat in our own hands. I think that it is not so much that things need to be different (in a good way) as it is that we need to be different.
But here is the problem, at least, as I see it: We become different—in a good or in a bad way—little by little, day by day. It is such a gradual process that we can hardly notice that it is even occurring.
George MacDonald, a writer from the late nineteenth century, spoke of “being a doer of the work.” I think that the immediate context went something like this: “He who would be a hero will barely be a man, but he who is a doer of the work, he will be blessed in his work.”
You, sir, are indeed a doer of the work. And remember what we say at the end of each meeting: “It works if you work it and give a lot of love.”
You can be the change, but you will probably never see the change.”
None of likes process, but life is primarily process. So, most of us don’t like our lives very much.
I hear someone asking, “But don’t you believe in miracles?” And the answer is, yes, I do. However, I also believe in process. Often, the process is the prelude to the miracle. Much of the time, the process is the miracle. And even when wonderful miracles unfold slowly, in a process manner, they are still miracles. Amazing things, even if they are so gradual as to be imperceptible to us, are still amazing things.
“Miracle is simply the religious name for event. Every event, even the most natural and usual, becomes a miracle, as soon as the religious view of it can be the dominant. To me all is miracle.” (Friedrich Schleiermacher, On Religion: Speeches to its Cultured Despisers)
(Source: https://quotepark.com/quotes/1723576-friedrich-schleiermacher-miracle-is-simply-the-religious-name-for-event-ev/, accessed 09-01-2022)
For me, process is itself a miracle. Let me explain.
I do believe that sometimes God interrupts the natural course of things and does something extraordinary. However, God has set the universe up as a place where things generally work according to regular (and fairly predictable) processes. Again, I am not saying that God doesn’t or can’t do miracles. I am simply saying that God doesn’t routinely do miracles. If God did that, we wouldn’t call it “miraculous”. We would call it “chaotic”.
In my case, process is the miracle. I am a fairly chaotic person. I am impulsive and sometimes downright lazy. I don’t like of to think my health in terms of diet and exercise. No, I’m not fond of processes at all!
So, when I actually go through a process—consistently and successfully—I call that “a miracle”. And it may well be a miracle. Even God may be amazed when I stick with a process.
Now, I am not opposed to praying for miracles, but maybe you are like me. Perhaps you too need to pray for the miracle of process.
“There are believers in the supernatural and then there are those who believe in science and natural law.” That is the attitude of lots of people these days.
What if I told you that there are believers who are also naturalists? That is what I’m going to tell you in this post.
I was listening to Genesis 18 yesterday. For the sake of context, here is part of the chapter relevant to the matter at hand:
“Gen. 18:1 And the LORD appeared to him by the oaks of Mamre, as he sat at the door of his tent in the heat of the day. 2 He lifted up his eyes and looked, and behold, three men were standing in front of him. When he saw them, he ran from the tent door to meet them and bowed himself to the earth 3 and said, “O Lord, if I have found favor in your sight, do not pass by your servant. 4 Let a little water be brought, and wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree, 5 while I bring a morsel of bread, that you may refresh yourselves, and after that you may pass on—since you have come to your servant.” So they said, “Do as you have said.” 6 And Abraham went quickly into the tent to Sarah and said, “Quick! Three seahs of fine flour! Knead it, and make cakes.” 7 And Abraham ran to the herd and took a calf, tender and good, and gave it to a young man, who prepared it quickly. 8 Then he took curds and milk and the calf that he had prepared, and set it before them. And he stood by them under the tree while they ate.
Gen. 18:9 They said to him, “Where is Sarah your wife?” And he said, “She is in the tent.” 10 The LORD said, “I will surely return to you about this time next year, and Sarah your wife shall have a son.” And Sarah was listening at the tent door behind him. 11 Now Abraham and Sarah were old, advanced in years. The way of women had ceased to be with Sarah. 12 So Sarah laughed to herself, saying, “After I am worn out, and my lord is old, shall I have pleasure?” 13 The LORD said to Abraham, “Why did Sarah laugh and say, ‘Shall I indeed bear a child, now that I am old?’ 14 Is anything too hard for the LORD? At the appointed time I will return to you, about this time next year, and Sarah shall have a son.” 15 But Sarah denied it, saying, “I did not laugh,” for she was afraid. He said, “No, but you did laugh.” (English Standard Version)
This is a story of two old, childless folks who lived about four thousand years ago. They knew the facts of life. And the fact was that they were never going to have a baby. Sarah laughed the laugh of a naturalist who had just been confronted with a supernatural prediction.
Let’s not be too hard on Sarah. Abraham had laughed too when confronted with this baby announcement (Genesis 17:17).
As C.S. Lewis pointed out, the ancients knew where babies came from. They were much more aware of the world (and of what we call “natural law”) than we frequently give them credit for being.
And let’s face it: Miracles are not God’s usual way of operating. If they were, they wouldn’t be so miraculous. If miracles were super common, we wouldn’t be impressed. Indeed, we would take them for granted.
I take great comfort from the fact that Abraham and Sarah were naturalists who came to believe in their own personal miracle. They were told to name the child “Isaac”. Why? Because the name Isaac means “laughter”. Every time the spoke their son’s name, they were reminded of their naturalistic and natural amusement at God’s miraculous prediction.
But God had the last laugh. God always does.
“Miracle is simply the religious name for event.” (Friedrich D. Schleiermacher, On Religion: Speeches to Its Cultured Despisers.)
The story is told of a wise old miracle worker. A skeptical young man went to the old man, and demanded, “Show me a miracle, so that I may believe in God!”
Without uttering a word, the old man planted a seed in a nearby pot. Immediately the seed grew into a tall green plant. In less than a minute, the plant had produced a lovely flower.
The young skeptic was in awe. “It is a miracle!” he exclaimed.
But the wise old miracle worker looked at the young man with compassion, though his words were stern. “Young fool!” he said, “The miracle of life, and growth, and beauty is all around you all the time. All I did was speed up the process in this one case.”
Perhaps the process for all good things is a miracle. Maybe all true beauty is an amazing thing. Maybe miracles are in the eye of the beholder—like beauty.
That was apparently Friedrich Schleiermacher’s point. If you’re amazed, an event is a miracle. I don’t entirely agree with Schleiermacher. Even if no one is around to observe an amazing thing, it is still a miracle. However, I do think Schleiermacher makes a valid observation—as long as it is not pressed too far. Miracle, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder.
Of course, life could be an accident, and beauty could be an illusion. However, I’ve had several accidents (automotive and other kinds of accidents as well), and I have yet to find an accident that leads to life or beauty.
I wonder what miracles will happen in my world and in yours today. I wonder if we will be aware of these miracles. Perhaps awareness itself is the one of the greatest miracles.
11 Soon afterward Jesus went with his disciples to the village of Nain, and a large crowd followed him.
12 A funeral procession was coming out as he approached the village gate. The young man who had died was a widow’s only son, and a large crowd from the village was with her.
13 When the Lord saw her, his heart overflowed with compassion. “Don’t cry!” he said.
14 Then he walked over to the coffin and touched it, and the bearers stopped. “Young man,” he said, “I tell you, get up.”
15 Then the dead boy sat up and began to talk! And Jesus gave him back to his mother.
16 Great fear swept the crowd, and they praised God, saying, “A mighty prophet has risen among us,” and “God has visited his people today.”
You have probably heard of “Jesus Freaks.” These are people who are fanatically (or deeply?) devoted to Jesus. But have you ever considered that Jesus himself tended to freak people out?
Take the above story, as an example. A boy was dead. His mom was a widow and she had only this one son. Now, she didn’t have him.
Tragic, yes! Freaky, no!
But then, Jesus showed up.
First, Jesus tells her not to cry.
That’s not freaky; that’s just a nasty blend of silly and cruel. Of course, she is crying. Who wouldn’t? Any of us who had just lost a loved one—especially a son or a daughter—would be even further devastated by such insensitivity. Any of us who would tell a grieving mother not to cry should probably be flogged.
But Jesus didn’t stop there. He touched the bier upon which the body was being carried to the tomb for burial. Then, Jesus said, very matter-of-factly, “Young man, I say to you, get up!”
And the young man sat up! Not only did he sit up. He also spoke up!
What did he say? We don’t know. It isn’t recorded. We can, of course, speculate.
“Thank you, Jesus!”
Maybe.
When he looked around, did he say, “What’s going on? Is this a funeral? Whose funeral is it?”
Perhaps.
“Hey! What am I doing in burial clothes?!?”
Could be.
“I’m not dead yet!”
That would be a famous line from a Monty Python movie, so perhaps not.
Whatever the young man said, I’m sure that the people were freaked out. Even his mother, as glad as she no doubt was, must have been at least temporarily wierded out.
Jesus did some strange things. He still does. I’ve never seen a miraculous resurrection, though I have heard of such things, and do believe that they happen once in a while.
But I have most certainly seen moral miracles. I’ve seen drunks and druggies raised from a living death—mostly death, with very little living. Jesus is still in the business of freaking people out. Jesus doesn’t seem to play be the rules.
Thank God for that! I myself am one of Jesus’ freaky miracles! So, perhaps, are you! Or, at least, you could be, if you would like.
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