Gentle Reader,
But who indeed are you, a human, to argue with God? Will what is molded say to the one who molds it, “Why have you made me like this?” Has the potter no right over the clay, to make out of the same lump one object for special use and another for ordinary use?
– Romans 9:20-21 (NRSV)
Welcome to this week’s edition of Everyone Gets Their Toes Smashed.
The Bible is like that sometimes.
These verses are part of Paul’s three-chapter long discussion of God’s relationship with Israel following the resurrection of Christ. It’s dense stuff. I am not an expert on it. What I know for sure is that the Church does not replace Israel. In what is considered the first sentence of the thesis statement of the letter, Paul clearly states that salvation was extended to Jewish people first (vs. 1:16). This goes all the way back to God’s promise to Abraham (see Chapter 4 and Genesis 12). God didn’t ignore non-Jewish people back then and God doesn’t ignore non-Jewish people now. We get to be part of God’s people because of all that Christ has done for us. We are brought into the family that began with Abraham so long ago. We just don’t replace Jewish people. Does that mean I think there is a way of salvation for Jewish people other than Jesus? No. Again, it’s dense stuff and I don’t pretend to know how it all works out. I just know that God is faithful to follow through on everything God says that God will do, and God made promises to Jewish people. God hasn’t stopped loving them.
Anyway, that’s nowhere near what I want to write about today.
I’ve practicing lectio divina this year. It’s a way of reading Scripture that encourages you to slow down. Instead of taking on large chunks and trying to digest as much information as possible (which is important; getting a grasp on the whole narrative arc of the Bible is a very good thing), this reading practice involves just a handful of verses. You read them slowly and preferably aloud a few times. You note a word or sentence that stands out. Then, in prayer, you work through what God is saying to you in that moment.
I am not very good at reading this way, which is why, eight months into the year, I’m glad I’m doing it. God consistently reminds me that my identity is rooted in God. Nothing and nobody else.
The above-quoted sentences stood out to me yesterday. There are definitely times when I wonder why God made me as God did. But there’s something deeper in these lines. My lumpiness is not the same as someone else’s lumpiness, and that’s okay.
Stick with me.
I am an over-responsible person. I’m not a full-blown co-dependent person, but there are times when I cross over into taking on something that another can reasonably do for themselves. This is almost always subconscious. I don’t realize that I’m feeling the weight of addressing someone else’s problems until I’m already into it. And I don’t do this because I think I’m smarter or better or more capable than others. I do this because I attach my sense of value and place in the word to what I can do. Oh, you need this or that? Sure. I can provide that. Again, not because I think I’m better, but because I can or should.
I have to prove that I’m a decent person, that I’m a worthy friend, by what I do.
Works-based relationality. It’s ridiculous. I’m (slowly) recognizing when I’ve slipped into this unhealthy habit. It’s not one I want to keep up.
So, back to lumpiness. As God shapes me and guides the direction of my life, I see that there’s very little over which I have control. I’ve barely got a handle on my own thoughts and emotions some days. I have to say “yes” to God, again and again. I have to remember that I am the clay. This idea, it’s nothing new for me. What is new: When I am over-responsible and take on something that another person can reasonably do themselves, I am getting in the way of how God wants to shape them. I am denying them the chance to go through the difficult, holy work of learning to say “yes” to God, again and again.
Mind. Blown.
Other people’s lumpiness isn’t any of my business.
I’m not advocating for radical individuality or saying that any of us can do without community. I have weaknesses, a whole heap of them, and I need people who are strong in those areas in my life. That’s how God designed things. And obviously when disaster strikes, it’s good and right for all of us to be a little over-responsible and to help others. But on that day-to-day, ordinary life, wash the dishes and get to work on time level, your lumpiness is your lumpiness and mine is mine. I can’t and shouldn’t try to smooth you out, or smooth out things for you, nor should you for me. By the presence and power of the Holy Spirit within and all around us, we are more than capable of tackling the laundry pile or the to-do list.
I’ve said it so many times lately: God is infinitely more patient than we are. And I think that what God is asking of me, and maybe of you, is to just slow down. When that friend makes a decision that seems devoid of logic, or when that family member says something weird, just stop. Just wait. You don’t have to fix it. You don’t have to have an answer. God is present, and God inviting them to remember that they are lumpy clay.
Let them be their lump. You be yours.
GRACE AND PEACE ALONG THE WAY,
MARIE
Image Courtesy of Quino Al