All Shook Up

Right where I am is where I have to be.
—FOLK SONG

I rejoice greatly in the Lord that at last you have renewed your concern for me. Indeed, you have been concerned, but you had no opportunity to show it. I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength. (Philippians 4:10-13)

I agree with Satchel Paige: “The social ramble ain’t restful.” Everyone needs a place of quiet rest.

Carolyn and I have such a place—an old log cabin in the Sawtooths. No television, no newspapers, no telephones, no people, no problems, no deadlines, no demands, nothing that has to be done. George MacDonald got it right, “It’s good to have a long nothing-to-do when everything else is done.”

I always hate to go back to Boise from that quiet place, because I’ve learned over the years that homecomings are seldom sweet. Trouble always arrives about the same time as we do. Impending crises loom over us as we hit the highway; anticipated disasters form in our minds as we turn down our street.

“Expect the worst,” we say in cold comfort to one another. We know that our thoroughly tranquilized souls will almost certainly be discomposed by some harbinger of bad news. As any returning astronaut will tell you, reentry is a fiery ordeal!

Sometimes the upsets make me want to stay away for good. I get a yen to take early retirement. I sigh with King David, “Oh, that I had the wings of a dove. I would fly away and be at rest—I would flee far away and stay in the desert; I would hurry to my place of shelter, far from the tempest and storm” (Psalm 55:6–8). Running away is a regular fantasy of mine, but I know it won’t do. It’s not good to be undisturbed.

The prophet Jeremiah had this to say: “Moab has been at rest from youth, like wine left on its dregs, not poured from one jar to another. . . . She tastes as she did, and her aroma is unchanged” (Jeremiah 48:11).

Jeremiah was thinking of the process by which fine wine is made. Grape juice was allowed to stand for a time until fermentation had done its work and the thick sediments had settled to the bottom. The liquid at the top was then drawn off into another vessel. The pouring and settling process was repeated again and again until the wine was fragrant and clear.

God lets us get shook up now and then. Disturbance and disappointment are his discipline: He pours us from jar to jar, keeping us from settling on our dregs.

The unsettling processes of life are bothersome, but they’re essential. Rightly understood, they finish our faith: they teach us that the only resting place, as the old hymn has it, is “near to the heart of God.”

Dislocations make us more dependent on the peace of God and less dependent on external factors for our tranquility. We become less demanding, less complaining, more willing to let go of what we want. We get sweeter, more mellow, more fragrant, more palatable, more like fine wine.

As always, God has our best interests at heart. Every disappointing, unsettling circumstance of life, every shake-up, has been selected out of all possible options for our highest good. Our present place, no matter how disturbing, is not an accident. It is God’s best choice for us. Oh, if only we could see it as God sees it! We would select it as well.

“Disappointment—His appointment,”
Change one letter, then I see
That the changing of my life
Is God’s better choice for me.
For, like a loving parent,
He rejoices when He knows
That His child accepts, unquestioned,
All that from His wisdom flows.
—AUTHOR UNKNOWN

Taken from In Quietness and Confidence, ©1999 by David Roper. Used by permission of Discovery House Publishers, Box 3566 Grand Rapids, MI 49501. All rights reserved.