Peace amongst the noise

1 Kings 6:1, 7 (NIV)

In the four hundred and eightieth year after the Israelites came out of Egypt, in the fourth year of Solomon’s reign over Israel, in the month of Ziv, the second month, he began to build the temple of the Lord. In building the temple, only blocks dressed at the quarry were used, and no hammer, chisel or any other iron tool was heard at the temple site while it was being built.

It’s not explicitly stated, but the implication here seems to be the decision to keep iron tools from the temple worksite had something to do with the sacred nature of the work, that the noticeable din of human labor would somehow be an unwelcome contradiction with the sanctity of what was intended as God’s house in the holy city.

Anyone with brief exposure to a construction site can understand the noise potential. Even without modern power tools, hammers and other still common iron tools raise plenty of ruckus. I’m reminded of my high school summers on youth group mission trips, pounding shingles in the hot North Carolina sun (as well as the hot Colorado sun and the hot Arkansas sun… I got sent on the roof a lot) and how all day long there was constant noise, until such time when we’d all set down our tools for a meal or a look at the day’s devotional material.

Noise generally makes me think of my children. And with good reason. Tonight, after the world’s loudest shower and ten minutes of simply running form one end of the living room to the other, all three of them treated us to a techno dance party in the playroom (complete with a spinning, multi-colored light ball) because how else does one get ready for bed after the first full week of school?

But there’s so much more noise in my life. The air conditioner running almost nonstop in a valiant attempt to keep my very pregnant wife as comfortable as possible. The laundry machine running through cycles in the basement. The lawnmower our meticulous neighbor fires up whenever the grass remotely exceeds optimal height. The dog who goes completely bonkers when a delivery truck pulls in my parents’ driveway. The pounding rain I drove through on my way home tonight. The earbuds I constantly pop in whenever I’ve alone because I have 17 hours of podcasts I simply must hear.

Noise is everywhere, and there’s plenty of times I choose noise over silence. I don’t have time for quiet, I think. Even when one specific sound becomes too much to tolerate, I seek retreat in the comfort of a different sound, one of my choosing. Somehow the remedy for “SpongeBob SquarePants” is “Jeopardy!” Perhaps counter-intuitive, but it seems to work for me, for now.

I don’t think silence is necessary to hear God. Often my deepest connections are felt when music is involved. Generally during a formal worship service, but not exclusively. It would be rare for me to choose contemplative silence over reverent song. Yet I can’t deny the opportunity for powerful moments in the midst of genuine calm.

Maybe I really do need more silence in my life and I’m just telling myself I don’t because getting there these days requires such effort. Maybe the 90 seconds or so it takes to follow Jack to the bust stop each morning is just the right amount of time and I shouldn’t go overboard seeking more solitude. Maybe solitude and silence don’t need to be mutually inclusive. Maybe this daily typing ritual does more for my soul and spirit than I’m inclined to assume.

Regardless which, if any, of those possibilities are most true, I am very happy to say we do not live near a construction site. Iron tools or not, I’m pretty happy to look out the front window and see a generally quiet cul-de-sac. It’s nothing any adventurous world traveler would dream of ranking on a must-see list, but it soothes me to no end. Home is a sanctuary, quiet or otherwise. The credit for that goes to the people who make this house a home, and the credit for that goes to the one who brought us all together as a family.

I don’t need to understand the peace to appreciate the way it changes my life.

A prayer for August 30:

Lord, thank you for speaking to me in so many different ways. I can hear you in the silence, but also in the many different sounds that punctuate my day. When my children laugh, when the faithful pray and sing, when nature can’t contain itself just outside my windows and doors. The work of your hands is visible and audible at every turn, and yet somehow I know you still care about me and the matters of my own heart and mind. Thank you for the gift of this life in your creation. Amen.

'A wise and discerning heart'

1 Kings 3:4-15a (NIV)

The king went to Gibeon to offer sacrifices, for that was the most important high place, and Solomon offered a thousand burnt offerings on that altar. At Gibeon the Lord appeared to Solomon during the night in a dream, and God said, “Ask for whatever you want me to give you.”

Solomon answered, “You have shown great kindness to your servant, my father David, because he was faithful to you and righteous and upright in heart. You have continued this great kindness to him and have given him a son to sit on his throne this very day.

“Now, Lord my God, you have made your servant king in place of my father David. But I am only a little child and do not know how to carry out my duties. Your servant is here among the people you have chosen, a great people, too numerous to count or number. So give your servant a discerning heart to govern your people and to distinguish between right and wrong. For who is able to govern this great people of yours?”

The Lord was pleased that Solomon had asked for this. So God said to him, “Since you have asked for this and not for long life or wealth for yourself, nor have asked for the death of your enemies but for discernment in administering justice, I will do what you have asked. I will give you a wise and discerning heart, so that there will never have been anyone like you, nor will there ever be. Moreover, I will give you what you have not asked for — both wealth and honor — so that in your lifetime you will have no equal among kings. And if you walk in obedience to me and keep my decrees and commands as David your father did, I will give you a long life.” Then Solomon awoke — and he realized it had been a dream.

Hang around long enough in churches and you tend to stop noticing the interesting ways in which words get smushed together. In the world of sports, we joke about terms like “ensuing kickoff” and remark the word ensuing is rarely used in any other context. But in church, it’s more of a case of using everyday words but partnering them uniquely.

I don’t know if this is some sort of special vocabulary taught at seminary, but when pastors write or speak formally they simply have a different spin on English. I’ve been lucky enough to be conversationally friendly with dozens of ordained folks, and they can all pretty much carry on a decent conversation. But I can still listen to those same people from the pulpit and wonder how they invented or chose a given term.

For example, we say scripture is “God-breathed” when “inspired by God” would suffice. A congregational prayer of confession I read recently includes the phrase, “If we have received blessings with scant gratitude.” These are just a few off the top of my head, and I’m trying to avoid singling anyone out or taking a notepad to worship next Sunday. But the topic comes to mind as I find myself wondering where else , outside of a religious setting or Bible reading, could I or would I encounter the notion of “a wise and discerning heart”?

And yet as odd as the phrase may seem grammatically, especially to those with no religious inclination, what a wonderfully crafted image of something I so desperately want for myself. Not just a heart for love, but one with wisdom and the ability to perceive and understand God’s intended direction. Each day I pray the phrase “thy will be done,” and the subtext is not for God to simply roll over me but for me to be able to see and then do what God wants to have done. It is a plea to have an active role, to be used in pursuit of the greater good.

The difference between Solomon, crowned the king of his people, and me, average mid-30s suburban father, is I have no need to govern a great people. Just the three (soon to be four) kids, and I have a pretty good partner leading the way. But just like Solomon when he ascended to the throne, so do I remember the early days of fatherhood when I felt way to young and unsure of how exactly I was supposed to behave. Even now, with almost a decade of experience, I still encounter circumstances that leave me wondering how best to respond.

And so that quest for a wise and discerning heart seems to make sense, day after day, week after week, year after year. It’s not something I seek to better myself but to improve the way I relate to those around me. It goes beyond the banality of “what would Jesus do?” by digging more deeply in a quest to not just respond properly to a given situation but to ultimately see the world in a different way, to look not with human eyes but to legitimately approach the whole of life with a God-breathed perspective.

Understand that as I sort these thoughts out in this forum I am realizing precisely how much of a gap exists between what I say I want and how I actually function right now. There are good days and bad days, but even the best-case scenario makes me feel I’m standing on the shore and gazing at my goal like some far-off island. But there is comfort in at least having something to aim for, in trusting that if I set sail I won’t just be hopelessly adrift forever.

I don’t want to pursue wealth and honor. A long life would be great but is a byproduct at best. What I want is to be a good husband and a good father, to give my family the best version of myself I can possibly muster and to show love for the world in accordance with the love God has given me. And I can think of no better foundation, for myself or anyone else, than the gift of a wise and discerning heart.

A prayer for August 28:

Lord, teach me your way. Lead me in a straight path. Open my eyes fully to the world around me. Do not let me be blind to chances to love, to serve and to make a difference. Help me teach my children, and continue to learn myself, what it takes to give you complete control. Change me, not just for a moment or two throughout the day, but for good. Your will be done. Amen.

Deathbed advice and focus on the present

1 Kings 2:1-4 (NIV)

When the time drew near for David to die, he gave a charge to Solomon his son.

“I am about to go the way of all the earth,” he said. “So be strong, act like a man, and observe what the Lord your God requires: Walk in obedience to him, and keep his decrees and commands, his laws and regulations, as written in the Law of Moses. Do this so that you may prosper in all you do and wherever you go and that the Lord may keep his promise to me: ‘If your descendants watch how they live, and if they walk faithfully before me with all their heart and soul, you will never fail to have a successor on the throne of Israel.’ …”

With the new school year underway and a baby expected in the next 40 days or so, a lot of the focus around here is on new beginnings. It’s a comfort to be able to enter this season with stability in where we live, where we work, the cars we drive and so on, but the changes looming are going to be significant. So naturally, there’s a sense of the family just marking time until the actual upheaval starts.

But all that anticipation of what tomorrow (figuratively) holds is flipped on its head in light of the scene painted at the beginning of this chapter. King David, about whom I’ve been reading for weeks and weeks now on account of the lectionary, is on his deathbed and making solemn remarks to the son who will succeed him on the throne.

I don’t spend a lot of time picturing myself in David’s shoes here. Quite the opposite, I try to focus as much as possible on the present, hoping to make the most of the life I’m allowed to live this moment without worrying about going the way of all the Earth. Obviously that part is inevitable, but it’s far beyond my control.

Still, there’s something richly poetic about the way David speaks in this instance. “So be strong, act like a man, and observe what the Lord your God requires.” This need not be delivered on a deathbed to be effective. “Walk in obedience.” I like to think of David as delivering these lessons to Solomon throughout his youth so what’s happening now is repetition for emphasis and not some last-minute revelation.

Perhaps I should be identifying more closely with the father as I read these sentences over and over, but I still see myself more as the son, hoping to soak up wisdom and realizing how much more I have to do in order to live up to the goals set forth. Yes, I want my children to be strong and act like men, but first I have to show them how that looks in real life.

We’ll all go the way of the Earth some day. Many won’t have the chance to leave final words of wisdom in David’s manner, so it’s best to make those feelings known during the robustness of life. And so I ask myself what my message should be to my children. What do I want them to learn from me? What kind of person do I hope each becomes? What am I doing to help get them there, and am I holding myself to those same standards?

These are common themes here, and it seems no matter how I start thinking about the big picture I end up at a strikingly similar narrow focus. Follow God’s lead for myself. Let my children see how that affects my life. Encourage them to discern how God may be leading them. Strive for mutual accountability. Be the dad they deserve and hope and pray they’ll grow to be twice the man I ever was.

These kids are a remarkable blessing, and I owe them everything I have in order to make them as ready as possible to take on life. I have the gift of many years still with them at home, but I can’t forget that window is not open indefinitely. It’s never a bad time to be a good influence.

A prayer for August 27:

Lord, teach me your way. Lead me in a straight path. Help me do the same for my children, that we may follow you together. I want so much to be a good example for them, but I know the best way to do that is to focus on my own walk in obedience and strength. I am trying to walk faithfully before you with all my heart and soul, for me and for them. I know I often stumble, and I rely on you to pick me up and set me back on the course. Lead me always. Amen.