Abba, Part 5: I Knew You

 

Hey, Cobblestone,

     Perhaps you know someone who consistently tries to solve too many problems at once. Perhaps that someone is you. Or me. Nothing can be simple because simplifying one box complicates the one next to it. Every situation is shoulders and elbows, hard parts. Whatever heals one relationship harms another. Having all things reconciled seems attainable, but only like the carrot hanging from that long, long stick.

     This morning, I’ve been asking the Father what else he wants you and me to know about him as I wrap up this series of “Abba” letters. His answer: “I knew you.”

     In the press and crush to solve all problems at once, a weed, a lie, entangles us: Nobody knows. Nobody knows how convoluted my relationships are. Nobody knows how far my responsibilities outrun my capabilities. Nobody knows how desperate I really am. And our adversary, the father of lies, propagates this one to the max, giving us full permission to believe it.

     Meanwhile, Abba has spoken truth:

    Now the word of the Lord came to me, saying,

    “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,
    and before you were born I consecrated you;
    I appointed you a prophet to the nations.”

    Then I said, “Ah, Lord God! Behold, I do not know how to speak, for I am only a youth.” 

    But the Lord said to me,

    “Do not say, ‘I am only a youth’;
    for to all to whom I send you, you shall go,
    and whatever I command you, you shall speak.
    Do not be afraid of them,
    for I am with you to deliver you,
    declares the Lord.”

    Then the Lord put out his hand and touched my mouth. And the Lord said to me,

    “Behold, I have put my words in your mouth.
    See, I have set you this day over nations and over kingdoms,
    to pluck up and to break down,
    to destroy and to overthrow,
    to build and to plant.” (Jeremiah 1:4-10)

     Before you and I object, saying, “Oh, but that was Jeremiah, the prophet,” know this: Jeremiah himself tried to claim insignificance and insufficiency… “I do not know how to speak… I am only a youth.” But it didn’t stick. He pointed out his littleness, and God wasn’t bothered at all.

     The Father picks up our stories at the point of “I do not know…” and “I am only…” and takes it from there. How is he able to do that? He already knew the story.

     The first words of the Lord to Jeremiah were not marching orders or job description. He didn’t lead with where, precisely, or to whom Jeremiah would be sent or exactly what to say. “Before I formed you in the womb,” he said, “I knew you.”  

     On any given day, and some days more than once, I’ll get the feeling that I’ve burst headlong into a dim, empty room – devoid of ideas, bereft of wisdom, without help. It takes a little while to remember: the room is never empty. Abba was here before I arrived. And he knows that, even before receiving instruction or counsel, I need to know he already knew me.

     One more little weed is trying to emerge, though, isn’t it? “Jeremiah was more important to God than I am.” Pluck the weed and flick it on the burn pile. Good fathers don’t play favorites; the Everlasting Father least of all. His plans for you and me are no less a part of his will than his plans for the prophets and apostles. Though we may imagine an order of importance, he does not.

     Before he formed you in the womb, Abba knew you. “I am with you to deliver you” he declares over his daughters and sons. Whatever nation, kingdom, cubicle or garden patch he sets you over, yours is to pluck up and break down, destroy and overthrow, build and plant – in the power of Abba, Father.

     Grace and Peace (for one thing at a time and all things at once),

 

John