About a week later, I took my bike to the shop to get a tune-up because the chain had no oil on it, the spiky discs were rusty, and the brake levers were in two different places as a result of my last crash. I ran 9.7km to the bike shop to pick it up days later. The ride back to my place was perfect; the bike was in great condition.
The next day, I got up extra early to go pick blueberries on a farm to earn some money hoping to supplement my life as an author. Apparently you need to bring your own buckets when you pick blueberries, so I strapped a rather large light blue pail to the outside of my red backpack. I mounted my bike at 7:14 and about three minutes into the ride, my chain fell off. I pulled over, threw my bucket bag on the ground and fixed my chain. I wiped the grease that covered my hands on the grass and a tree trunk. In Africa, the people I lived with did not use tissues to blow their noses; they blow snot into their hand and wiped it on a tree. I hopped back on my bike and peddled down the road into farm country and realized that I had selected the most popular trucking road, which also happened to have no shoulder. I was honked at and it was definitely not because I was looking good. As soon as I turned onto a quieter road, I realized that I had a flat tire...
and no repair kit. It was now 7:45 in the morning, so I decided to keep walking. I passed an old Indo-Canadian couple on their farm and the woman yelled out something that sounded like "painter." Maybe she thought my bucket was for painting? I shook my head, said no and kept walking. Right away the old man said "No air? Puncture?" "Ahh yes puncture." I repeated. He gave me a wave and said, "Very sorry." About half an hour later, I reached the berry farm only to find out that they didn’t need any pickers. So, I crossed the street and walked into the only other field I saw with workers in it. I asked if I could pick for them and all they said was, “No.” At 8:27 I sent a text to my room-mate apologetically asking her to come pick me up. However, I knew she would not be available for another hour or so.
I lay my bike down on the side of the road and lay myself down beside it. Of the hundred cars that passed by, only one stopped to ask if I was injured or needed a ride. My stranger danger instinct kicked in and instead of accepting the ride I politely declined. Denying strangers the opportunity to rape or murder me seemed smart but I was still stranded. This seemed odd to me because I was not paranoid when my car was stolen, but I was paranoid that I was offered help and turned it down. After about 20 minutes had passed I was tired of sitting, so I picked up my bike and walked towards home. It was moments later that my roommate received my message and sent word that she was on her way. As I continued walking, I found a blackberry bush in the ditch. I stopped to pick the few ripe ones. By the time my wonderful roommate showed up I had about 20 berries, which my housemates gratefully enjoyed.
The point of interest here is that when I was an idiot about my car it was stolen, yet when I was diligent with my bike by making sure it was tuned-up things still broke and went wrong. This experience begs the questions: How hard do we push? How hard to we try? How hard do we knock on the door? How many things need to go wrong before we give up and try something else?
Unhelpfully I think the answer is: "it depends".
ReplyDeleteAre there alternatives? What do they cost (in terms of time or effort or money)? What is it worth?
Sticking with your (probably allegorically intended) example:
Are there alternatives?
Sure: buy a car, carry a patch kit, maybe take a different route (that has less danger to your (thin) bike tires, etc. etc.
The costs of these alternatives vary. And the original objective has a benefit associated with it. As long as there is an alternative that has a reasonable probability of producing a benefit that meaningfully outweighs the cost of an alternative, it is reasonable to keep at it.
In thinking over that response, I think it can be misread. The final paragraph indicates that the question of how much effort to put into something depends on a cost/benefit analysis. And, as long as we're talking about transportation that is certainly true.
ReplyDeleteI think, in retrospect, the final paragraph could easily be read to mean that a relationship with God should depend on a detailed cost/benefit analysis; which is certainly not what I meant. I had intended to hint, along with your transportation allegory, that, since a relationship with God, our creator, is of infinite value, it is worth almost infinite effort.
A parent child relationship is perhaps the better analogy here. How much effort does one put into a such a relationship? You don't really count the cost.
But I'm sure that's not a helpful remark either. So, here's a different answer.
Your question is, I believe, why is God so invisible? Why do I not perceive his care at any level? Why, if he is a God who is all about relationship, do I experience so little relationship?
I, and many Christians, often day dream that the Christian life would be so much better if there were tangible manifestations of God in our lives. If God would, incontrovertibly, *show* himself; the way he did in the Old Testament. The 10 plagues, the parting of the Red Sea, Pillars of Cloud and Fire, huge national armies defeated by 300 men etc. etc.
Not that I am waiting for people to be slaughtered (which is part of many of those events); but "better miracles", more "voices from heaven" and such would go such a long way to being more sure about all this stuff in the Bible and, we imagine, make it much easier to deal with all these questions and doubts.
I came across a startling remark on the topic in a Phillip Yancey book (a great questioner). He pointed out that he thinks the reason God doesn't, by and large, do stuff like that anymore is because it never really *worked* in the first place.
The Israelites had just been through the escape from Egypt, through the Red Sea, with the Pillars of Cloud and Fire and settled beside Mt. Sinai to wait for Moses to get and bring back the 10 commandments. Within *days* they had made an idol and were worshipping it.
From our perspective that seems unbelievable and we imagine that if *we* had been there, we couldn't possibly have been that dumb. But the reality is that we are unlikely to be so very different from the Israelites. If God is so present and overwhelming, will we have the relationship with him that he desires? Or will we see him as one of a number of tangible alternatives? Or will we rebel like a child being smothered by an overprotective parent? If he "retreats", like a lover wishing to be sure of love, will we persue him?
Danielle, I think you successfully highlight the unpredictable and often frustrating nature of life. We work very hard to be in "control" and yet at the end of the day too many things are outside of our control for our sense of security and stability to be anything much more than an illusion. We try and manage risks, we try and be prepared but there are always things that occur that one has not prepared for. The phrase expect the unexpected is in reality a nonsense statement because the truly unexpected is impossible to expect, a black swan if you will. A chicken wakes up and enjoys life with his family and a delicious meal every day and is cared for by the farmer. Every moment of the chicken's experience indicates that the world is safe and that there is nothing to worry about. But then one day that chicken is slaughtered... This is not meant to be a comment on our relationship with God although I'm sure we could explore that. Rather it is to reiterate the frustrating and unpredictable nature of life, it is an example used by Nassim Taleb author of the book Black Swan about his theory: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_swan_theory .
ReplyDeleteThe terrifying possibility that perhaps chaos rather than order dominate our existence. Meaningless, meaningless... The relationship between effort and results is not as stable as we would like or are taught to believe.