When CHRISTIANITY TODAY asked its readers which religious questions seemed important to them, “Does God have a plan for my life, and if so, am I living it?” received the second-highest number of “high interest” ratings—62 per cent of those surveyed.
The editors knew divine guidance was an important topic to young Christians. But when we considered that the average CT reader is in his or her forties, we were surprised at the high rating, and decided to consider what the question of divine guidance means for persons in midlife.
Many religious people expend their spiritual energies telling God how much they love him and about the wonderful plan they have for his life. Of course, they don’t put it that way, but—cloaked in proper pious platitudes—they devote their prayers to telling God what to do.
On the other hand, mature followers of Jesus Christ are more concerned about God’s will for their lives. Thus they may spend more prayer time in listening than in talking.
But listening for God’s voice has become a problem for many Christians. Some seem to hear his voice as perhaps Joan of Arc heard it, getting her instructions from Saints Michael, Catherine, and Margaret—and then they proceed to take on impossible and irrational projects just as the Maid of Orleans did. Others listen, if not exactly expecting to hear voices, at least hoping for some solid assurance that God wants them to choose a particular path at a crossroads in their lives. And when they don’t get it, their faith may falter as they raise the wrong question: whether God is present in their lives, rather than whether some of the talk they have heard on guidance might not be a bit vacant. To add to the puzzlement, there are indeed some who listen faithfully, act on what they hear, and live lives of exemplary spiritual achievement.
Have I Done Well?
The puzzlement is unfortunately complicated for people who are reaching midlife. Much of the writing about knowing God’s will for our lives has been focused on questions and spiritual approaches appropriate to youth.
After World War II came to an end and the United States was flooded by GIs seeking jobs, educations, and sweethearts, Christian thinkers addressed the question of God’s will largely in terms of choosing a career and finding a mate. Twenty years later, as the leading edge of the baby boom entered college, the concerns were largely the same. But in the last decade of the twentieth century, the the leading edge of the baby boom is entering the bewildering landscape of “midlife crisis”—and facing a new series of questions.
While both young adults and midlife Christians are dealing with issues of identity, these Who-am-I questions take a different form at different stages of life. Young adults ask, “Who am I?” by asking which career to pursue or whether to pursue a career at all. Midlife adults are more likely to ask whether they have been successful in their chosen careers. Young adults try to understand their sexual future by asking whether they should marry and, if so, whom. Midlife adults are more likely to examine their sexual past, asking whether their earlier choices about marriage and children were indeed the right ones, and whether they have fulfilled their obligations and, in turn, been fulfilled by them. Young adults try to gain knowledge by earning degrees and honing their techniques. Midlifers, by contrast, try to consolidate wisdom by asking what they have learned.
The questions of midlife, thus, are essentially evaluations (Have I done well?), while the questions of young adulthood are choices (What shall I do?). This process of evaluation is an opportunity for growth as well as a door to disaster.
For example, giving a negative answer to the question “Have I paid enough attention to my children and instructed them well?” can help midlifers recognize shortcomings and do what they can to improve relations with their offspring. But in some circumstances, it can call forth a neurotic response that imposes moralistic and restrictive religion on teenagers who are supposed to be discovering their own values and testing their own judgment.
Likewise, a sense of failure within marriage can lead to deepened intimacy and understanding. Or it can produce a panicky search for intimacy and excitement outside of marriage, resulting in the pain of separation, divorce, and child-support payments.
Unworkable Ideas
Not only are the kinds of questions asked in midlife different, but the understandings that are often taught to young people of how God guides are no longer workable in a period of adjustment to imperfection and limits.
A number of erroneous ideas were at least tolerable in the energy of youth: (1) that missing God’s preferred choice in a situation by choosing some other, but equally God-honoring and moral, path will lead to spiritual ruin; (2) that the special guidance given to apostles and prophets as they spread the Good News or corrected God’s people is somehow the norm for what all Christians should expect; and (3) that God’s scriptural revelation of right, of wrong, and of principles to live by is not sufficient information for us to please God.
Young people, who are more spiritually idealistic, energetic, and resilient, may survive this kind of erroneous teaching. But these ideas, if taken seriously at midlife, can be much more potent for spiritual ruin. Either midlifers will give up hope of special guidance and therefore give up hope in God, or they will listen to their subjectivity, follow their impulses, and claim God’s blessing for the turmoil they create. In this regard, I never cease to be amazed at those who abandon hope for their marriages and pass through an illicit affair or two on their way to a second union, only to interpret that experience as God releasing them from bondage and bringing them a blessing in the guise of a new spouse. However unwise our early choices may have been, there is never an excuse for trying to improve the situation by violating the clear and inspired commands of Scripture.
Why Ask?
Why then do we even bother ourselves about seeking God’s plan for our lives? Why do we so often put ourselves through the anguish of searching? While all Christians wish to live within God’s will, most of us proceed in our day-by-day routine doing the tasks we find at hand. We feel settled that it is God’s will for us to change the baby’s diapers, go to the office, mow the lawn, and teach our children well. We also know it is God’s will that we not do certain things—lie to the Internal Revenue Service, for example, or sexually abuse children.
And we do not bother much to ask God about the incidental affairs of living. These questions we recognize as having no moral significance.
But as midlife adults, it is natural for us to ask about God’s will for our lives partly because of what Scripture says, and partly because of what our psyches tell us.
The Intimate God
Scripture tells us of a God who is near to us: one who keeps account of the hairs on our heads (Matt. 10:20; Luke 12:7); one who has plans for some of us from the moment of conception (Judges 13:5; Ps. 139:13–15; Jer. 1:5); one who wants good things for us in the same way a father wants good things for each of his children (Luke 11:11–13). God even keeps track of the two-for-a-farthing sparrows, Jesus said. Of how much more value are we human beings than birds to him (Matt. 10:29, 31; Luke 12:6–7)!
We could infer from these texts that God has a plan for us. How could an all wise God who knows us better than we know ourselves not have a blueprint for our lives, an itinerary through the bewildering choices of career and job assignment, housing and community choice, mate and offspring? The fact that certain biblical characters were chosen before their births to do special work for God seems to reinforce this idea. And the mystical direction of the Spirit experienced by such as Paul and Philip (Acts 8:26–29; 13:1–7; 16:10, 6–7) likewise gives the impression that God has our lives mapped out for us.
But is that the necessary implication? Healthy parental love wishes for its offspring a rich and rewarding life. But healthy parental love does not force its specific hopes—that a daughter should marry a doctor, for example, or be one herself—on its children. Healthy parental love gives guidelines for safety. (“Don’t stick your fingers in electrical outlets,” we tell our little ones, and when they are older, “Just say no to drugs.”) Wise parents try to inculcate good habits and edifying practices (brushing regularly, going to church and giving to charity, and changing the oil in your car every three to four thousand miles). But within wise guidelines, our children face a creation that is bulging with good possibilities. And healthy parents encourage their offspring to invest themselves in those possibilities.
Likewise, God seems to have given our first parents only a few limitations (“Don’t touch that tree, but from all the others you may freely eat”) and a host of possibilities. And our spiritual ancestors received moral and spiritual laws (the Ten Commandments in particular and the Mosaic legislation in general) that guarded their heritage of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” (not strictly biblical terms, I realize, but not exactly unbiblical either).
Under the New Covenant, Christians are encouraged to live in a spirit of freedom and sonship rather than in a spirit of fear and slavery (Rom. 8:14–17; Gal. 4–5). In fact, without revoking any of his former guidelines, God has articulated for those who walk in the Spirit a summary guideline of sacrificial love; for those who live by a rule of self-sacrifice in search of the good of their fellow human beings will surely fulfill all of the moral and spiritual laws.
It seems from Scripture that God does on occasion have special purposes for chosen individuals. But it also appears from Scripture that the bulk of humanity is given the freedom and responsibility to choose wisely within the limits of the moral law. This has been argued briefly but cogently by J. I. Packer on the pages of Eternity (April, May, June 1986) and at length by Gary Friesen with J. Robin Maxson in their book Decision Making and the Will of God: A Biblical Alternative to the Traditional View (Multnomah Press, 1980). It seems only reasonable that to those creatures he has made in his image, God gives the principle and burden of freedom. The daunting truth about our high calling is well put by Bishop Dafyd in Stephen R. Lawhead’s Merlin (Crossway, 1988): “The higher a man’s call and vision, the more choices are given him. This is our work in creation: to decide. And what we decide is woven into the thread of time and being forever. Choose wisely, then, but you must choose” (p. 328).
God’s Will—and a Little Creativity
Never have I seen a time when people are busier but with less sense of direction in their lives. Lou Harris tells us that 86 percent of Americans are chronically stressed out—and that number includes Christians. The question is why. Why are we so willing to tolerate stressed-out living? Why are our lives so lacking in direction and purpose?
I have particularly wondered about this in light of the fact that there is so much sermonizing and writing on how to find God’s will for our lives by “open and closed doors,” “fleeces,” and assorted “pulse taking” measures. Virtually all the personal-growth books, career-planning texts, and financial manuals for Christians provide simple, direct formulas for finding God’s will. And yet there is a majority of men and women who still seem to be wandering in the wastelands of uncertainty and confusion.
Back to basics
One reason why people are so stressed out and confused is that we are trying to do it all, have it all, and follow Jesus too. But we won’t find God’s will by doing the American Dream with a Jesus overlay. If we seriously want to find God’s will for our lives, we must begin with very different questions than “What do I want?” and “What will God let me have?” Instead, we must ask, “What does God want?” “What is God doing in history?” and “How does he want to use my life?” And the way we answer these questions is simply to go back to the Bible. There we discover God’s purposes for his people and his world. I usually begin by studying Isaiah.
The vision of the prophet is absolutely breathtaking. He describes a spectacular new heaven and new earth—nations of the world in which the blind see, the deaf hear, and the lame dance with joy; captives are set free, and a sumptuous banquet is spread for the people of God.
God purposes to create a new order of righteousness under his reign in which there is no more sin. He purposes a new kingdom of justice in which there is no more oppression of the poor; a new era of peace in which the weapons of war are transformed into the implements of peace; a new age of wholeness in which the partial are made whole; and a new day of celebration when suffering and death are put away and we share in the wedding feast of our God forever.
Clearly, Jesus Christ understood God’s purposes for the human future. And as the Messiah, he made God’s purposes his purposes, singularly devoting his life to that vision. The author of Hebrews encourages us to look “unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross” (Heb. 12:2). What was the joy set before him? It was the complete realization of the purposes of God, a world in which all things are made new.
This same Jesus taught us to pray a very radical prayer: “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” It is clear in the Gospels that he expects his followers to join him in his vocation of praying and working to see the kingdom purposes of God realized on earth as they are in heaven. He repeatedly urged us not to worry about the self-involving agendas of a secular society but to seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, assuring us that he will supply our essential needs (Matt. 6:33).
In other words, if God is ultimately opposed to sin and plans to create a new order of righteousness, then we too must work for righteousness. If God is opposed to the oppression of the poor and wants to create a new society of justice, then we too must work for justice for the poor. If God is opposed to the suffering of the innocent and intends to create a new era of peace, then we too must commit our lives to work for peace and reconciliation. If God’s heart breaks over those who are partial, and he wills sight to the blind and healing for the disabled, then we too must work to bring wholeness to the broken. And if God wills to create a wedding feast to celebrate the establishment of his reign, then we too must join him in celebrating his reign now in anticipation of that day when Christ returns and God’s kingdom is fully established.
Obviously, we can’t all fully devote our lives to all that God intends for the human future, but we can through prayer, retreat, and community discover how God wants to use our lives and gifts to work intentionally for his purposes now. Some will be called to work one evening a week doing evangelism among international students. Others will discover their vocation in working with the growing number of abused kids in our cities. Still others will become involved in agricultural projects in Somalia. All, however, must find ways to express God’s loving purposes through their lives.
What I am suggesting is this; (1) Once we have clarified what God’s purposes are through biblical study, (2) discerned through prayer how God wants to link our lives to his purposes, and (3) had that call confirmed in community, then we have the opportunity to orchestrate our whole lives around that sense of purpose. I call this whole-life discipleship.
Whole-life discipleship
Al felt called of God to go into engineering when he graduated from the University of Washington. He turned down the first job he was offered because even though the pay was good, building cruise missiles was, for him, counter-kingdom. He looked a little while longer and took a job redesigning cardiology equipment. One day a friend invited him to visit a home for cerebral-palsied kids. During that visit it all came together for Al. He is now at the University of Chicago learning to use advanced engineering design and computer systems to help cerebral-palsied kids move and communicate for the kingdom of God.
Virtually any occupational or professional training can, with a little imagination, be intentionally directed for God’s loving purposes. But if we can’t do it through our occupations, then each of us needs to find some way through our leisure to work for the purposes of God. Most of us, with some modest changes in our timestyles, could find one evening a week to do ministry.
Recently, I received amazed stares when I told a church congregation that one of the top discipleship decisions they will ever make is the decision to purchase a home. I explained, “Talk all you want about the lordship of Jesus in your life, but once you sign that contract, both husband and wife are working for the mortgage company for the next 30 years.” Usually it is a decision not to do short-term overseas service. It is a decision to have less time for family life. And with both spouses working, they probably won’t have any time during the week to be involved in service to anyone else.
John and Pam created an alternative so that they and their family could place God’s purposes first. They decided to build their own house. Since they only have two little boys, they decided to construct a simple, two-bedroom house. John and Pam have just completed construction of their suburban house. The total cost: $25,000 (not including land costs), paid up front (as opposed to a mortgage that would have cost nearly $500,000 over 30 years).
Since they have no mortgage, Pam does not have to work outside the home. She has more time for family life and working in the church. As for John, he can afford to take time off from work periodically to go overseas and do video work for World Concern in Nepal.
I realize we can’t all build our own homes, but with a little imagination, most of us can find creative ways to free up some time to join our Lord in “bringing sight to the blind, release to the captives, and good news to the poor.” We can discover a way of life that is less stressed and more festive and satisfying than anything the rat race can offer.
By Tom Sine, author of Why Settle for More & Miss the Best? (Word).
The Desperate Search For God’S Favor
But despite God’s gift of freedom, it seems that many people expect him to have an agenda for their existence, perhaps not because of what Scripture tells them, but because of what their psyches whisper. Of course, the desire to please God in making our choices great and small is a sign of spiritual health. But there is another drive to please—a desperate desire to pacify God and win his favor by divining exactly what he wants and doing only precisely that. That desire is a sign of spiritual pathology. This inability to live with uncertainty, to allow God to allow us freedom, may often be rooted in a bad experience with a parent or other authority figure. I have seen this consuming passion most often in people who felt abandoned by a parent—an adopted teen whose adoptive parents beat her; a collegiate man whose father died early and unexpectedly of cancer; another whose father still lived but had grown cold, distant, and uncommunicative. In counseling, all of these persons came to recognize that they subconsciously feared God would abandon them (as the human parents had) if they failed to win his favor at every juncture in their lives.
Midlife can bring this fear of abandonment even more intensely than young adulthood. And thus midlife anxieties can produce an even more intense search for being “in the will of God” as an assurance that when other aspects of life are decaying, at least one can Jacoblike tighten a full-nelson hold on God.
At midlife, many adults discover they are not going to rise any higher in their organizations. They discover they will probably never enter a higher salary bracket than they already have. They find their superiors at work noticing the industry, creativity, and stamina of younger employees—all at the very point when their own energies begin to ebb and their joints begin to stiffen. They discover their children are not achieving all they had hoped. And they realize their children are no longer malleable, but already set steadily on their own courses.
Midlife adults may also find their own marriages have lost their luster and that, as the children grow older and leave home, the needs of offspring can no longer distract attention from deficiencies in their marriage. And then their friends and former classmates begin to die off, just one or two, in accidents or with untimely coronaries; but the person in midlife has entered the valley of the shadow of death.
Loss is real at this stage. Loss of goals. Loss of energy. Loss of a sense of accomplishment. Loss of family pride. Loss of friends. And loss of faith—for those who have been good churchgoing, pillar-of-the-community Christians discover that even their faithfulness to religion has not made them exceptions to the life patterns of the rest of humanity. As Raymond Studzinski writes:
The desire to totally control one’s environment and one’s future, frequently through a close relationship with God, the all-good provider, has proven to be unrealizable. Plagued by unfulfilled dreams and by shattered ideals, persons at midlife find that the enemy of their fulfillment and happiness is less outside themselves in other people or in situations and more within, in their own hearts. They experience their internal chaos in terms of not knowing what they want, what they care for, or if anything is worthwhile. Rather than being fulfilled, they feel drained by all they have done in their lives. Life looks like a series of losses with the greatest loss, that of life itself, still ahead. (Raymond Studzinski, O.S.B., Spiritual Direction and Midlife Development [Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1985], p. 37.)
Holding On To An Idealized Past
Whenever a person is moving into a new phase of life, it is not unusual for him or her to want to hold on to elements of the former stage. Every parent learns how a teenager can act remarkably mature one minute and revert to utter childishness the next. At least for the teen there is the promise of increased freedom and responsibility that will lure him or her to “put away childish things.” But what is to motivate the person in middle age to move ahead developmentally? The promise of false teeth and bifocals? Thus it is only natural that the midlife person will try to grasp at the piety of his or her youth, longing for the excitement and enthusiasm that followed conversion and trying to revive the sense of God’s intimacy that accompanied an important personal spiritual experience. But that energy cannot be contrived. A spiritual discovery once made cannot be made again. And thus the midlife adult often feels the loss of God’s presence along with the loss of youth, idealism, and opportunity.
The most healthy reaction is not to look for God in an idealized past, but to move into the future, confident that God will present himself to us in new and different ways.
For example, the believer who does not try to recreate his or her spiritual past can find God’s presence and a sense of direction in different scriptural stories and motifs from the ones that appealed in the passionate and energetic days of youth. Teens and college students are often challenged by images of the young Daniel and his friends standing firm for truth in the court schools of Babylon. Or perhaps they are inspired by the exploits of a young Gideon, David, or Esther. Stories of courage and accomplishment are models for the channeling of the spiritual energies of the young in the service of God.
But the midlife believer, who sees that his tomorrows are fewer than his yesterdays, and who realistically understands that many of his earlier goals may be unreachable, will find inspiration in the biblical tales of failure, of repentance, and of persistence: Peter’s rebounding from faithlessness to take a post of apostolic leadership; Paul’s wisdom and faithfulness in spite of the physical torment of his “thorn in the flesh” and the politicization of the churches he had helped found; Hosea’s faithfulness in the face of Gomer’s promiscuity; the aging David’s acceptance of his inability to complete the building of the temple, yet doing what he could to amass the materials. These stories can be inspirations at midlife.
Similarly, persons in midlife must look for God’s presence and listen for his direction in the new challenges that come with a new phase of living. Many midlife men, for example, are given a new opportunity in the workplace. Instead of being rising young stars, they now find themselves in a position to become mentors—to take the skills, wisdom, and savvy acquired in the first 20 years of work life and use them to help younger, more energetic workers to develop themselves and make a contribution to their field. Thus one can find God’s presence in these new serving relationships.
And more than ever, midlife persons can seek God’s presence and guidance in their relationships with fellow believers. The achievement-oriented lives of so many young adults effectively prevent them from developing deep relationships in either the family or the church. So much energy and time are devoted to making it financially and achieving advancement that barely enough is left for perfunctory family meals and church attendance. But midlife can be a time of consolidation rather than expansion. Wise midlifers may recognize that they have reached a career plateau. For these individuals, the pressure is off if they will allow themselves to be thankful for what they have achieved with God’s help. If they will, they can then turn their attentions to mining the riches of their relationships. And in these relationships, they can find God’s presence and his guidance.
A few years before I formally became a midlifer (the transition begins at about age 40 and ends at about 45, says Studzinski), I was considering a career change. Should I return to school for a degree in clinical psychology? I asked myself. After all, I had done a fair amount of pastoral counseling, something I had enjoyed. I asked God for guidance, and then asked four Christian friends who knew me well: a former student who had graded papers for me; a former secretary who was now involved in career guidance counseling; a fellow campus minister with whom I shared racquetball games and lockerroom chat twice a week; and my wife. All four said it would be the wrong choice—and each of them gave different reasons. And all of the reasons were compelling. Later, when I considered becoming an editor, the voices of friends confirmed the decision. At all stages of our lives, God makes himself present to us in our relationships. But at midlife, we need to turn to our friends more than ever. And in addition, we need to avail ourselves of the spiritual mentors God has given us in the church.
Love For The Unlovely
Understanding two aspects of the character of God is important to the person in midlife, for these scriptural themes help us feel yet more comfortable in our relationship with God at the same time they help us make decisions consistent with God’s character.
First, God is characterized by covenant faithfulness. So, too, should his people be. If there is any aspect of God’s character that through sheer repetition in the Hebrew Scriptures should impress us, it is this characteristic. The Hebrew word chesedh appears nearly 250 times in Scripture—mostly in connection with God’s character. Often translated “lovingkindness” and still more often “mercy” in the older translations, when associated with divine love the word is perhaps best rendered as “covenant faithfulness.” Or as E. M. Good writes, chesedh is “a faithful love, a steadfast, unshakable maintenance of the covenantal relationship” (“Love in the OT,” The Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible, vol. 3, p. 167).
The steadiness of God’s covenant love is spotlighted repeatedly by the unfaithfulness of Israel. In spite of their whoring after other gods, their syncretistic adaptations of pagan deities, and their grinding the faces of the poor, Yahweh’s lovingkindness seems to endure forever. He continues to send his messengers to woo them and warn them.
The biblical covenant between Yahweh and his people has both a unilateral and a bilateral character. It is radically one-sided, of course, for Yahweh chooses a group of people who have little to recommend them, leads them forth from bondage, gives them civil and moral laws by which to live, gives them food and drink, and finally, he gives them a land in which to live. All this he does when they are so disorganized and disorderly they cannot hope to take any credit themselves. Thus his covenant with them, his agreement or contract, is one-sided. Knowing their weakness, Yahweh nevertheless promises to be faithful.
Yet there is a subtle two-sidedness here. While Yahweh knows their weakness, while he realistically understands that he will not receive perfect obedience from this nation newly formed, he places upon them the condition of keeping covenant, that is, to remember him as the source of their existence (Deut. 6:10–15), to obey his commands (Deut. 7:6–11), and to be holy as he is holy (Lev. 11:45). After all, as David sings in 2 Samuel 22:26, with those who are faithful, God is faithful (“With the chasidh you practice chesedh”).
Christian theologians differ on whether God’s covenant love for Israel is in some way conditioned on their continued obedience. A case can be made from Scripture for the idea that God’s covenant faithfulness has its limits. And a case can be made for the completely unlimited character of that chesedh. But most biblical scholars will agree that God’s covenant faithfulness includes a tolerance far beyond any human comprehension.
Human covenants are by their nature more bilateral than divine covenants. But the promises we make (as in the marriage service) and the promises inherent in our very existence (as in our relationships to our children) are to be characterized by a divinely unilateral quality. No matter what my children may do, they are still my children. No matter what my spouse may do, she is still spouse to me. Wise Christians therefore treat these bonds as indissoluble. And in the turmoil of midlife, they preserve these covenant relationships by practicing a longsuffering lovingkindness.
Faithful In The Face Of Failure
The painful story of Hosea and his fidelity to the faithless Gomer is recorded in Scripture as a parable of God’s utter faithfulness and an example of how human love can partake of divine chesedh. In the face of Israel’s spiritual adultery, God says he will romance her: “Therefore”—that is, because of Israel’s idolatry (Gomer’s adultery)—“therefore, behold, I will allure her, and bring her into the wilderness, and speak tenderly to her.… And there she shall answer as in the days of her youth as at the time when she came out of the land of Egypt.… And I will betroth you to me for ever; I will betroth you to me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love [chesedh] and in mercy. I will betroth you to me in faithfulness; and you shall know the LORD” (Hosea 2:14, 15b, 19–20).
The word of the Lord through Hosea is the word of faithfulness in the face of infidelity. When midlife Christians evaluate the “success” of their relationships, they must remember that God, who condemns his people’s idolatry, lives yet by his covenant with them.
It is natural for persons in midlife to evaluate the health and success of their relationships. But midlife Christians must resist the temptation to write off completely the relationship that did not fulfill their romantic (and perhaps unreasonable) expectations. Seeking solace or excitement in an affair is anything but practicing covenant faithfulness. Love does not seek solace; love does not thrive on thrills. Love suffers; love forgives; love nurtures; and love heals when possible. And rather than discarding a relationship, love examines it to see whether it might be entering a new chapter of existence.
Such covenant faithfulness is difficult, to be sure. But it can indeed be rewarding—even when a divorce seems inevitable.
Divorce certainly seemed inevitable when Ellen returned from a trip abroad. Charles could tell from her distant coolness that something had changed for the worse and that the marriage was over. That was over five years ago. Charles still doesn’t know if Ellen was unfaithful to him on that trip. But whatever had happened had caused Ellen to turn on him and blame him for all her bad experiences and turbulent emotions. Charles, hurt though he was, decided to exercise covenant faithfulness, to act like a husband even though Ellen wouldn’t let him be a husband. Over the next few years, Charles insisted that she see a counselor and face her inner turmoil; he insisted that they come to an agreement about their property and avoid expensive and upsetting legal wrangles; he helped Ellen get launched on a new career (she now makes significantly more than his ministerial salary); and when she wanted to save money for a down payment on a new house for herself and their son, he invited her to move back in with him so she could set the money aside. Over five years passed between their separation and their divorce, but those five years were a time of growth for both and, in a curious kind of way, faithfulness for Charles. Ellen’s midlife turmoil could have spelled emotional and financial disaster for them both. Charles’s Hosea-like commitment avoided ruin even when he could not singlehandedly avoid divorce.
To be godlike at midlife means to hold faithfully on course, as Charles did, even when faced with failure. But Charles’s story also demonstrates another aspect of God’s character.
The Chess Master
God is the master of creative possibilities, one who is not boxed in by our bad choices. Having been created in his image, we share in that creativity. Surely Charles would have chosen another course for his ill-fated marriage; but given the realities of a sin-ripped world, Charles chose a creative path that wrung more good out of a painful situation than anyone might have hoped for. Likewise, the sovereign God (who is all wise) would often have chosen a course different from those chosen by his people through the ages. But given the hard realities of human history, the creative God finds ways to bring victory from tragedy, success from failure, and hope from disappointment.
Einstein reputedly said, “God doesn’t play dice.” True, but I believe God does play chess. The essence of dice is chance; but the essence of chess is strategy; and the essence of strategy is looking beyond the narrow confines of the immediate challenge to the multitude of options that are open beyond. Human beings often feel squeezed by the either/or-ness of daily life. We may feel we have a narrow range of options, none of them particularly attractive. But like a good chess player, our sovereign God in his foreknowledge sees his second, third, and fourth moves hence. Thus he can—and does—bring good out of evil. This is illustrated in the wisdom of Joseph, who had been betrayed by his jealous brothers only to be made governor of Egypt. In Genesis 50, Joseph faces his fearful brothers and says, “You meant evil against me; but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today” (v. 20). No one could have advised those foolish brothers that it was God’s will that they sell their sibling into slavery. But it was God’s will that many should be preserved from starvation; and, like a chess master, he took the deplorable circumstances of Joseph’s life and brought good to many. This must be the meaning of Romans 8:28, “We know that in everything God works for good with those who love him, who are called according to his purpose.” It is not that Paul affirms the goodness of all circumstances, but that he affirms God’s creative good will in all circumstances.
Can Christians find a way to be creatively godlike when faced with hard choices? Yes; they can choose not to follow their flesh-bound instincts and sulk, rebel, or give up. Instead, they can follow the intuitions of God’s Spirit, which leads them to “be imitators of God,” to “walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God” (Eph. 5:1–2).
What gives us the courage to act in sacrificial and creative love, in unorthodox (by the world’s standards) ways as Charles did in his disappointment with Ellen? It is the surety of God’s faithful and creative love. When we love creatively, we can and do make mistakes. But we gain the courage to act from knowing that our mistakes are more than matched by God’s creative opportunities. Nothing we do in the spirit of sacrificial love can permanently thwart his good and loving purpose for us.
Excerpted from the book Tough Questions Christians Ask (Christianity Today/Victor Books)
