I absolutely love this post by Gavin Ortlund
and tender they are.
A child’s trusting questions;
a maid’s querying scruple.
A gentle zephyr
ruffles sparrow wings.
The book in my hand
settles to my thigh,
My bent fore-finger
piercing its pages.
My weary spirit weighted
by trenchant worldly worries.
The quack of a drake;
a fluttering finch;
The whisper of wind
through rose-red leaves.
The white petal-head
nodding in the breeze.
A hard-backed wooden chair,
and welcome interruptions.
Cross my scarred heart
adheres a fragile
Layer’d by the voice
upon Mount Horeb.
“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep.” Genesis 1:1-2b
What is the significance of this verse? Existence without purpose yields darkness rather than light. Purpose in the hands of a competent craftsman brings light…and beauty, and wonder. One made in the image of God, takes (what is his to take) and shapes: nurtures, cares for, reforms, and bends to his will in order to improve, to provide, to shelter, to invoke glory.
Having begun we wend our way through the creation narrative reading, “And God said,” thus connecting the litany of actions with the purpose of verses 1 and 2, until we get to verse 26, where we read, “Then God said,” which tells us that we have arrived at God’s ulterior motive. All that preceded this moment was preparatory for what we are about to read. Having done all this; having formed the universe and imbued it with purpose, God arrives at his goal;we pause with baited breath… and read,
Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion over (all that I previously fashioned). So, God created man in his own image….
…and man alone, in His image. All that has preceded the making of man was made by God, but not formed in His image. Man, therefore, is an imitating being; designed to follow the pattern and purpose of God and God’s actions.
And in like manner, we now arrive at my ulterior motive for this post. I contend that we may conclude God was intently purposeful in His design of all creation, including of mankind. So, what may we learn by observation of marital intimacy?
Men are designed to be hard when the occasion requires.
Men experience pleasure being themselves as a result of having been gentle (gentleness is strength under restraint; the stronger you are, the gentler you may be).
A man cannot live life in a hardened state, but prepares ahead of time to be ready when called upon.
The joy of a moment is enabled and enhanced by preparatory denial.
Men rise to the occasion and provide what is needed.
The satisfaction of a goal achieved is reached by virtue of planning.
The delight of spontaneity is enabled by previous preparation.
One’s purpose must be received and shared in order to be achieved.
As a hardened one, a man’s greatest longing and pinnacle experience is reception by and intermingling with softness.
Hardness is exhausting; softness is comforting. Provision exhausts; reception inspires and renews.
Pleasure is good, but momentary, and not to be the main focus of our daily pursuits.
As life goes on it becomes increasingly evident that mutual interdependence is required for each partner to be most thoroughly themselves.
The pinnacle of pleasure is intimate, private, and unveiling; within the protective bonds and boundaries of covenant shelter, dignity may be safely shed in the face of pure delight and total acceptance.
Mutual satisfaction and ultimate personal expression is conditionally experienced within the confines of, and after the provision of shelter and sustenance.
Fruitfulness is the natural result of careful preparation and mutual service.
Woman is the glory of man, because in her softness she celebrates, enhances, and embodies what it took a man’s hardness to provide. Hardness, however, is not comforting and man therefore longs to see, to touch, and to connect with the softness his flinty determination has provided for and enabled.
Children come with a built-in, living instruction manual called parents. Calling God “Abba, Father” means accepting things like, “Hear, O sons, a father’s instruction, and be attentive, that you may gain insight, for I give you good precepts; do not forsake my teaching.” (Proverbs 4:1-2 ESV)
I read the following words in Fountain of Federalism: Heinrich Bullinger and the Covenantal Tradition by Charles McCoy and J. Wayne Baker today, and I think it sparked a light bulb moment.
“Second, federalism understand the relationships between God and the world and among humans as based on covenants among their members, some tacit and inherited from the past, others explicit and made or renewed in the present” (p 12).
The idea of tacit vs. explicit covenants sparked what seems to me the implications of the above quote, and which I have attempted to state succinctly as follows:
When eternal, inviolate beings have a tacit understanding of relationship, formed in virtue of their purposive unity and common character, that agreement forms what in human terms we call a covenant.
The term “covenant” is required to lend the strength of Divine imitation to human relational compact(s). In other words, implicit agreement among the Godhead is, by virtue of their nature, a covenant in human terms, though human covenants must be explicit due to the depravity of human character.
This is why it is proper to speak of a “Covenant of Redemption” among the Trinity, even though such a covenant, as such, is never named in Scripture.
How do I go about learning to navigate the Psalms better? I struggle to understand them unless I have a context or topic associated with them beforehand.
- Turn to the Psalms in moments of felt need
Age and experience will embed the Psalms in your affections as you find in them, sometimes, your only comfort.
Make their review a habitual part of your life. I recommend using a through the Psalms every two months approach, with psalms for every morning and evening. Only by deep familiarity can you practice biblical meditation (haggah), and then as life take its inevitably difficult twists and turns, the Psalms become the soundtrack of your sanity (or your sanctification; both are true).
A specific example comes to mind. I recall being on a six-hour road trip some 12 years ago when I was unexpectedly struck by the most intense sexual temptation I’ve ever experienced. I made it home faithfully by popping in a Sons of Korah CD and playing Psalm 116 on repeat for an hour or two, singing along at full volume like a fool for Jesus.
As you can likely imagine, Psalm 116 now has a very special place in my affections. The difficult path of discipleship, what we otherwise call “life”, brings the Psalms home to us all, if we will but listen to them. It is evidence of God’s phenomenal grace and amazing providence that He gave us such an emotion-packed and ever applicable tool.
“By the discovery of God, … I do not mean anything mysterious, or mystical, or unattainable. I simply mean becoming acquainted with Him as one becomes acquainted with a human friend; that is, finding out what is His nature, and His character, and coming to understand His ways.”
“My own experience has been something like this. My knowledge of God, beginning on a very low plane, and in the midst of greatest darkness and ignorance, advanced slowly through many stages, and with a vast amount of useless conflict and wrestling, to the place where I learned at last that Christ was the ‘express image’ of God, and where I became therefore in measure acquainted with Him, and discovered to my amazement and delight His utter unselfishness, and saw it was safe to trust in Him. And from this time all my doubts and questioning have been slowly disappearing in the blaze of this magnificent knowledge.”[i]
My experience, which may not be universal but seems to me as if it should be, is that our pain or confusion is best sorted in the Divine Presence. The immediacy of His reality puts ourselves into proper perspective, while the intensity of His love for and attitude toward us heals our hurts. We arrive at these moments via study, practice, intentionality, and His sovereignty.
I had the opportunity to pray to God with a good friend listening a few mornings ago. He happened to invite me to pray when I had just been moved in spirit by contemplating a truth about God’s character. I knew that if I began praying in that moment it was going to be very personal—the kind of praying that only happens in my prayer closet and even then is restrained by my (damnable) reluctance to seem (to myself, ironically) as if I am so enchanted by God as to have no thought of dignity—I was reluctant to go there, as I am unaccustomed to anyone else being privy to my personal prayer life with God, and because I care too much about what others might think, but after a few moments of hesitation I went there anyway. In His Presence all thoughts of my friend’s opinions or even attendance were erased, as I was caught up in the recognition of God’s character.
I came away from this experience—of a few moments—a changed man. This is the kind of thing I have in mind, and am trying to capture in my first paragraph.
[i] Hannah Whitall Smith, The Unselfishness of God (New York: Fleming H. Revell Company, 1903), p. 14. as quoted in Hannah Whitall Smith and Melvin Easterday Dieter, The Christian’s Secret of a Holy Life: The Unpublished Personal Writings of Hannah Whitall Smith (Oak Harbor: Logos Research Systems, Inc., 1997).