One Size Fits All?!

I’ve written about this before, but it’s been on the forefront of my mind recently, and so I’m writing about it again.  I’ve been thinking about the biblical account of a young shepherd who slew a terrifying adversary.  For many, the story of David and Goliath calls forth memories of flannel graph storyboards in a Sunday school room and would-be slingshots created from felt and yarn.  It might also bring to mind phraseology wrought from the story over the years, such as “Face your giants.”  But I’ve been thinking about David’s fashion statement.

Then Saul outfitted David as a soldier in armor. He put his bronze helmet on his head and belted his sword on him over the armor. David tried to walk but he could hardly budge.

    David told Saul, "I can't even move with all this stuff on me. I'm not used to this." And he took it all off.

1 Samuel 17:38-39

David realized that what served Saul in battle was only going to trip him up.  Though Saul had the best of intentions, he was heaping onto David things that were ill-fitting and too heavy, and they immobilized David.  For David to move forward into his destiny, he had to be David.  One size, when it came to battle attire, did not fit all.

Neither does one size fit all when it comes to our moving forward into our destinies.  One aspect of our destinies that every other aspect spills out of is how we relate with God- not to him, but with him.  Perhaps the distinction is only in my own mind; yet it seems to make such an important, albeit subtle, difference.  It’s the difference between merely having reference of something or someone versus growing a relationship.  In any case, it is an ever-growing, intimate friendship with God that propels us into our true selves; it is the catalyst for our “becoming.”  Herein often lies the problem that many of us have dealt with in one form or another.  How often we miss the nuances of his gentle persuasion, his wooing of our hearts, his invitation to dance with him in a wide, open space because we’ve succumbed to One Size Fits All Christianity.  So many times, with the best of intentions, one or another of us as followers of Christ- individually or corporately- will attempt to be “helpful.”  We’ll take what has helped us in the past, but rather than offering it as something to try, we use it as a formula or rule, and we unintentionally heap heavy burdens onto others.  This tends to stunt that blossoming romance of the heart because there so often comes a paralysis of the soul as we (yes, I’m putting “we” onto both sides of the field because I would imagine that all of us have been on the giving as well as receiving sides at one point or another) try to move with “stuff” on us that we’re not used to.  The enemy is all too willing to point out that our helmet isn’t placed appropriately, or we’re not holding our shield just the right way.  We’re messing up, we’re failing, and how can we ever hope to have the kind of relationship with God and walk in freedom and joy with such a sense of destiny as so-and-so.

One size does NOT fit all.  I’m not speaking of the absolutes of wrong and right, nor of those things that all Christians have in common that are unchangeable and concrete.  I’m speaking about our own personal journeys of becoming.  God is a God of creativity and variety, and his relationship with you will look like his relationship with no one else’s.  I read a book recently wherein the author noted that “C.S. Lewis had once surmised that each person is created to see a different facet of God’s beauty- something that no one else can see in quite the same way- and then to bless all worshipers through all eternity with an aspect of God they could not otherwise see.”

There are beautiful robes with which God wants to adorn all his children, and they’re tailor-made; hand-crafted by a Father who loves each of his children with such incredible passion, that he elaborates on your attire as he does no one else’s.  You’re his favorite, you know!  And so am I.

So Father, here am I, your favorite daughter, and I thank you for each of these, my brothers and sisters, who likewise are your favorites.  For those who have for far too long now attempted to wear hand-me-downs or to don borrowed garments that were really meant for someone else, I ask you to wrap them up in your arms, first and foremost.  I ask you to give them a heavenly mirror, and as they gaze at their reflection, may they see only the person you see when you look at them- someone in whom you delight and find great joy; someone with whom you’re pleased; someone who is the apple of your eye.  May they then recognize the beauty and majesty of how you intend to outfit them.  To paraphrase a book title, Daddy God, my brothers and sisters were created originals; may they not be content to die as copies.

I love you, Jesus.

Did Anyone See That?!

Amazing the lessons we can learn from the Holy Spirit when we’re simply going around minding our own business- which was exactly what I was doing last week during an evening outing with my family.  We were going out to eat, and as we were walking into the restaurant, it happened.  I’m still not convinced that the ground didn’t shift beneath my feet, or that the sidewalk in front of me didn’t suddenly, without notice, spring up two feet.  Whatever the occurrence, it resulted in me taking a nosedive.  It was one of those happenstances wherein you know exactly what’s about to take place, yet there’s nothing you can do about it.  I knew I was going down, and all I could do was go with it.  As far as falls go, it wasn’t all that bad.  I scraped and bruised my hand a bit, and my right thigh was a little sore from landing on it, but nothing broken, fractured, or dislocated.  Not even any bleeding.  One would think that, after assessing any bodily harm and finding myself relatively free of any, I would have jumped up with a grateful sigh of relief; for, to be sure, on my quick trip to the ground, I was thinking, “Oh, man, I’m too old and too out of shape to be falling!  I sure hope I don’t break a hip!”  My reaction, however, was… different.  Once I hit the ground and realized I was okay, I immediately tuned out the concerned voices of my husband and son, rolled onto my back, lay out straight, and closed my eyes shut tightly.  The logic behind this was the same as it is for little children who believe you can’t see them if they can’t see you.  You see, I was mortified.  Incredibly embarrassed.  It didn’t help matters at all that my other son- the one whose voice I couldn’t tune out- was laughing and saying, “Wasn’t that kinda funny?”  [To his defense, he’s a little boy, and looking back at the situation, I imagine it probably was a bit comical to watch.]

            As I was lying on my back, hot tears of humiliation beginning to run down my cheeks, my husband’s voice broke through the mental wall of invisibility I had hoped to create.  He was kneeling by my side, holding out his hand to me, asking me if I was alright, and preparing to help me to my feet.  For a few moments, I refused his offer of help.  I wanted everyone to go away; I wanted to determine what damage control needed to be done by anyone who might have witnessed my ambulation faux pas so that I could possibly pretend like nothing had happened.  It occurred to me, however, that I could not lay on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant indefinitely.  I pushed aside my childish musings, took my husband’s hand, accepted the hug he gave me, and after assuring my family that I was okay, proceeded to enjoy my evening out.

            I was thinking about this incident in light of my walk with Jesus.  I was reminded that the writer of Hebrews admonishes us to “strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up.”  I’ve not always remembered to do that, and there have been times I’ve found myself scraping my spiritual knees or stubbing my spiritual toes, and there have been times when I’ve simply fallen flat on my spiritual face!  I recall a time several years ago when I was doing all I could in my own might to throw off weights and sin and run the race set before me with endurance.  Yet it seemed that, for all my effort, my impediments seemed all the greater.  I was figuratively at a point where I rolled over on my back, closed my eyes shut tightly, and determined that I would lay there until I could muster the grace and fortitude to get back to it.  I remember the Holy Spirit showing me a picture of myself walking down a dirt road with Jesus.  Having grown up with a dirt and gravel road running in front of my home, I was quite familiar with the ruts and potholes that are common on streets of this type, so when I saw these along the road in my vision, I knew exactly what they were.  I saw myself intently focused on these ankle-breaking holes, determined to walk around them, to avoid them.  Try as I might, I’d no sooner sidestep a rut before I tripped over a pothole.  I’d get back up, try again, and continue stumbling.  And where was Jesus during all of this?  He was- wait, where’d he go?  Why’d he stop back there?  Is he smelling a ROSE?!  To shorten the story a bit:  The Holy Spirit showed me that I was working really hard at making progress, doing my best to do what was right; yet I was focused on the wrong thing.  Life wasn’t simply about arriving at the finish line.  It was about living!  And there were things along this path that Jesus wanted me to experience with him; things that God had hidden for me to find and to take great delight and joy in; fulfillment to be found; discoveries to be made… and all of this was supposed to occur within the context of relationship with Christ.  Therefore, my focus should be on him alone.

            So back to falling… My thoughts on the subject…  I’m in the “already but not yet” phase of my journey with Christ.  I’ve already been reconciled to God and made whole in his sight, but I’m not yet to a place where I perfectly walk that out.  So it’s not a matter of if I fall, but when I fall- what do I do?  I believe it’s simple:  I must get back up.

            In the story Gulliver’s Travels, Lemuel Gulliver finds himself shipwrecked on the island of Lilliput and wakes to find that he has been bound by the Lilliputians, a race of tiny people.  They appear to be savage and relentless in their efforts as captors, yet all Gulliver need do is stand, and the Lilliputians will be scattered, their ropes useless in keeping him down.  When we walk in the power of the Holy Spirit and with the authority of Christ, the enemy has as little power to keep us down as the Lilliputians had to keep Gulliver down.  [Note:  I’ve not read the entire book of Gulliver’s Travels, so if by some chance the Lilliputians do succeed in holding Gulliver captive, forgive my ignorance; the point is simply that, in the life of a follower of Christ, Satan has only the power we allow him.]  However, the enemy doesn’t want us to get back up.  He’d prefer to keep us down and bring an end to our forward motion.  He’ll use the fear of exposure to cause us to want to remain hidden on the ground.  “I hope no one saw me!  What if they did see me?  Maybe if I just stay here awhile, I can sneak back up.”  He’ll whisper words of condemnation.  “How foolish was that!  Can you even believe you did such a stupid thing?”  All the while, Jesus is kneeling beside us, hand extended, telling us, “It’s okay.  Let me help you up.  Let me brush the dirt from you.  Let me hold you.”

Jesus, may I and anyone else with whom these words ring true have increased capacity to tune our hearts and minds to the gentle voice of love that beckons us to rise and walk; that speaks words of encouragement and edification and life; and may we become more capable of discerning from where come our thoughts.  May we rise up and stand boldly and make declaration to the enemy:  “You shall NOT succeed!”