Divine Danger

For the last month I've been flipping through the photo album of the life of David, the king of Israel, as told in I and II Samuel. A few of those snapshots have made their way into sermons that my congregation has been gracious enough not to cough and write notes through (at least not too much).

David was a man after God's own heart, which might lead some of us to think that God's anointing would guarantee that David's scrapbook would be stuffed with perfect pictures. We might expect his life to exemplify the easy exchange of faithfulness and fulfillment that some of those purple-suited preachers promise on television. Isn't that the way it is supposed to work? We do our part and God does His! Isn't life with God supposed to be comfortable and safe? The problem is that God is far to loving and passionate to not be dangerous.

Brent Curtis and John Eldredge put it this way:

"When we think of God being good, we perhaps picture someone like Al on the popular TV program,Home Improvement. He is someone who carefully plans out each task ahead of time and has all the proper tools and safety equipment in place; someone who has thought out every possible danger ahead of time and made allowances to ensure our safety as his workmate; someone who goes to bed early, gets plenty of rest, and wears flannel shirts as a mark of reliability."

"Being in partnership with God, though, often feels much more like being Mel Gibson's sidekick in the movie Lethal Weapon. In His determination to deal with the bad guy, he leaps from seventh-story balconies into swimming pools, surprised that we would have any hesitation in following after him. Like Indiana Jones's love interest in the movies, we find ourselves caught up in an adventure of heroic proportions with a God who both seduces us with his boldness and energy and repels us with his willingness to place us in mortal danger, suspended over pits of snakes."

God lives and loves adventure! That's why David's video yearbook has him darting in and out of caves, running for his life, fighting battles, killing giants and dancing before the Lord.

Life with God has never been safe. But oh, what an adventure!

The word on street is that a baby will be arriving at our house sometime in November. My wife, Rochelle, is well into her seventh month. We are entering the home stretch marks!

A child--even before she arrives--radically shifts your priorities. For instance, before Ro became pregnant, we planned and dreamed of an Alaskan cruise. I had thoughts of setting sail on a city on the sea. I panted for breath-taking views of snow-capped mountains shooting out of ice-crusted earth. I wanted to see God's overflowing beauty reflected in the open waters of the sea.

Having grown up in Mississippi, Georgia, and Texas, I thought I would see God at his grandest in Alaska. The tall pines of Mississippi, the red clay of Georgia and the desert brown of Texas never had given me that sense.

However, the financial necessities of baby-dom have arrested that dream for the time being. Our cruise turned into a crib, a car seat and cutesy clothes for a little girl.

I remember having a moment of immense selfishness, thinking to myself about how I missed Alaska. Then Rochelle grabbed my hand in the early hours of the morning and placed it on her stomach. Just then, my daughter-to-be kicked (she's bound to be the cutest little girl EVER), and Alaska melted away.

Rochelle beamed! Her smile is heaven's horizon.

That moment reminded me that God is grand--everywhere, always! May those who have eyes to see, see Him!

Every morning immediately after his 5 am potty break, my dog, Ralph nestles himself against my left leg. Like clockwork, he warms himself under our covers and into my heart. I've never really liked dogs. I bought Ralph for my wife's birthday last year--she is a lifelong dog lover. I figured that if I got her something she loved, her love for me would only increase.

Every day I see or realize something divine in living life with a pet. Each day I catch a glimpse of God through a 13-inch beagle. In many ways, Ralph has been the bearer of Good News in our home.

This morning as Ralph snored his day away, I was struck with the incredible trust he has in me. I am much larger and stronger than he is, but he has no fear that I might become malicious and hurt him. I make all the rules--some he likes (the 9 pm snack), some he's not so crazy about (he can't sleep in the bed at night), but he responds well to each of them. No barking, no pouting.

Ralph is a breathing toy. I tug his ears, play with his nose and make him chase his own tail. He never flinches. He knows I wasn't created to hurt him.

I've had to do many things to Ralph that I wish I didn't have to do. I've held him down while his vet performed the most invasive procedures. I've had to withhold meals on Dr.'s orders. I've had to bring him near strangulation when he once got too aggressive with my wife. In those moments, there is no way he can understand that what I'm doing isn't meant to cause pain. It is meant to heal and protect.

Each time I return home, Ralph races to door, eyes shining and tail waging. He rockets off the floor like Sputnik, jumping to near head high just to say "hello." He's glad to have the company of those who care for him.

So this morning as he dreamed of chasing rabbits and treeing bunnies I was reminded about trust. I thought about the myriad times I have failed to trust God. I secretly believed He wasn't there or didn't care. Ralph reminds me that my assessment couldn't be farther from the truth. I'm mindful of God's care for me during every trip to the vet's office as I take care of my dog.

Ralph whispers to me that when my mind's VCR replays scenes of suffering, God was there. He was there doing for my well-being the thing that had to be done. He was caring for me in situations when I could not care for myself.

Now surely, the question of suffering cannot be answered through the life of a short-haired dog (if it can be answered fully at all). But if a dog, who endured tremendous suffering before we adopted him, can learn to trust again, maybe I can too.

The Palmer Perspective is a new venture, set out in the hopes that this will be a place to unearth the relics of goodness and pleasure of our Lord on earth. Like most westerners, I have seen all the harm and evil that vast technologies like the Internet can create--or rather illuminate--and desire an oasis of goodness. A place where those who seek wonderment and faithfulness can find respite from a world retreating from the pleasures only our Lord can provide.

My hope is for people to be drawn nearer to whom they were created to be--a truer version of themselves. Let's enjoy the journey together.

--Sean