christianity

Merely the hem of his garment

One of my favorite stories in the Gospels is when the woman who had been bleeding for twelve years was healed through faith by simply touching the hem of Jesus’s garment. This story exists in three of the four Gospels: Matthew 9:20-22, Mark 5:25-34, and Luke 8:43-48. In some translations, it says hem (NKJV). In others it says edge (NIV), fringe (ESV), or border (KJV). But what they all have in common is that the bleeding woman was healed by Jesus by reaching out in faith and touching only some small, distal part of Jesus’s clothing. 

And suddenly, a woman who had a flow of blood for twelve years came from behind and touched the hem of His garment. For she said to herself, “If only I may touch His garment, I shall be made well.” But Jesus turned around, and when He saw her He said, “Be of good cheer, daughter; your faith has made you well.” And the woman was made well from that hour (Matthew 9:20-22, NKJV). 

There are a couple of remarkable things about this passage to me. The first thing that strikes me is just how little it actually took for this woman to be healed by Jesus. He didn’t lay his hands on her. He didn’t bless her or pray over her. He didn’t even know who she was until the moment she touched his clothes. 

All she did was touch the hem of his garment, not even the sleeve or the collar, but simply the hem. Through this simple gesture, she was healed. This goes to show just how powerful Jesus’s healing powers were and are. He is able to heal all manner of illness and malady with even the smallest amount of connection to him. 

The other remarkable thing about this story is that it teaches us the power of faith. This woman had been bleeding for twelve years. She had no realistic reason to believe that Jesus would or could heal her. And yet, she reached out in faith and was made instantly well. 

With faith and the smallest amount of effort on our part, Jesus is able to accomplish miracles in our lives. We cannot heal ourselves but, when we find ourselves in a position wherein we are beyond human aid, if we reach out to Jesus, he will heal us. As it is written in Matthew 17:20, “If you have faith as a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move; and nothing will be impossible for you (NKJV).”

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

He began to teach them many things

Yesterday morning during my prayer hour, my Biblical readings contained the following story from the Gospel of Mark:

The Apostles gathered together with Jesus and reported all they had done and taught. He said to them, “Come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while.” People were coming and going in great numbers, and they had no opportunity even to eat. So they went off in the boat by themselves to a deserted place. People saw them leaving and many came to know about it. They hastened there on foot from all the towns and arrived at the place before them. When Jesus disembarked and saw the vast crowd, his heart was moved with pity for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things (Mark 6:30-34, NABRE).

As with all of the Gospels, there is a lot to contemplate in this passage, but the part of the story that really caught my attention was the last verse that says, “When Jesus disembarked and saw the vast crowd, his heart was moved with pity for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things.” 

For whatever reason, “…and he began to teach them many things,” really stuck in my mind. I couldn’t let it go. What are the many things that Jesus taught them? Why didn’t Mark write these teachings down? What did those he taught do with the teachings? Were they converted? Were they saved? Did they, in turn, share Jesus’s teachings with others?

As I meditated on this for a while, the thought came to me, “What if Mark intentionally left this statement open-ended? Perhaps it’s left open-ended like that because he is telling us that we are them to whom he taught and is teaching many things. His teaching didn’t end there with that crowd. When he left them, he continued teaching up until the moment of this death. Even after his death, burial, resurrection, and ascension, he continued teaching. In fact, he is still with us teaching us through the spirit.”

This thought immediately brought me a sense of comfort. In truth, I am one of the crowd hastening to Jesus and without him, I am like a sheep without a shepherd. And like that crowd, Jesus has taught and continues to teach me many things. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Outgrowing our spiritual travel companions

On the spiritual path, as we ascend toward God, we will have to let people go along the way. No matter how close we may be to them or how big of an influence someone may have had on us, not everyone is meant to be our spiritual travel companion forever. We all have to make our own decisions in life and God will call us in different directions. 

It can be painful parting ways. Some people have literally helped to shape our hearts. The impact and impression made by them on our lives can be deep and long-lasting. If we have loved them, we will experience grief, sorrow, and even anger or disbelief when it is time to part, but when it’s time to let go, it’s time to let go. 

God will not allow us to hold onto that which is no longer for us. If we try, we only make things worse and prolong our suffering. We are asked, especially in times like these, to have faith, to trust that our Heavenly Father truly loves us and wants what is best for us. 

It helps to remember, although it can be difficult to do so when we are in pain, that we are never really alone. No matter how lonely we get, no matter how hopeless we may feel, God is always with us. All we have to do is reach out for help and his loving hand will be there to guide us through whatever darkness we find ourselves in. 

As we move with and toward God, we will inevitably change. This means our relationships will change also. Like a butterfly breaking free from the chrysalis that once contained and nourished it, we must shrug off our old selves and our old relationships as God calls us to grow closer to him. 

If we have friends and family who are willing and able to grow with us, we should consider ourselves fortunate because the spiritual path is often one of solitude, even when we are not actually alone. Prayerful solitude should lead us back to community, however. Spiritual community helps to form, guide, and motivate us through the darkest nights when we feel lost, scared, and forsaken. Our spiritual community may not be who we expected or even desired, but they will be who we need. Our Heavenly Father always provides. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

It’s okay to question God

Having faith does not mean that we don’t question God. God is not a dictator demanding that we blindly follow his orders. Rather, as Jesus tells us when he teaches his disciples how to pray, God is our heavenly father (Matthew 6:9). As such, he loves us and wants the best for us, but he ultimately leaves it up to us to choose. 

When God told Moses to tell the Pharaoh to free his people, Moses questioned him (Exodus 3-4). The prophet Jeremiah questioned God about why he allows evil men to prosper and faithless men to be comfortable (Jeremiah 12). The Psalms are filled with questions to God about why he seems to hide from us and to have forsaken us (Psalm 10 & 22). Even Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane before the crucifixion says to God, “My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me (Matthew 26:39)” before conceding to God’s will. 

It is okay to question God, to be reluctant, and to be hesitant to follow his will. You are not alone in this if you do. Even while God asks us to be obedient and faithful to his word, he is not asking that we be mindless automatons who do not think for ourselves. He doesn’t want robot servants. God wants a relationship with us and relationships require communication.

God wants to hear from us. He wants us to confide in him, to tell him we are reluctant, afraid, or even angry. And while we may not change his mind, he will always listen. 

I once heard someone ask the question, “What if the only things God knows about you are what you tell him?” Ask yourself this next time you pray, and then invite God into your heart. Tell him how you feel. Tell him what worries you, what frustrates you, and what upsets you. He wants to know. He wants to help you and comfort you. 

Faith, then, is not acting without fear, without questions, and without resistance. Faith is doing God’s will in spite of these things and trusting that it will be alright. But if you are afraid, if you have questions, and if you are feeling resistant to what it seems like God is calling you to do, talk to him. 

God wants nothing more than to have a relationship with you, but he will not force himself upon you. “Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you (Psalm 55:22)… [He] will never let you down; he’ll never let you be pushed past your limit (1 Corinthians 10:13-18).”

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox.  

Our primary purpose

On Tuesday, September 11, 2001, I was working at a bank as a floating teller. As a floating teller, I traveled from branch to branch to fill in as needed. On this particular day, I was working in one of the Annapolis branches and I had a doctor’s appointment scheduled at lunchtime, so I was going to be leaving work early. 

As we set up the branch, getting all of our cash drawers ready for when the doors opened to the public, we saw the news that a plane had just crashed into one of the towers of the World Trade Center. We were all shocked and not quite sure what to do, but it was time to open. Then, just after we opened the doors, the news came in that another plane hit the World Trade Center and we all sensed that the world as we knew it had just changed forever. 

There was a haunting sense of concern and confusion throughout the branch as we did our best to do our jobs as usual, but as the towers collapsed, we all just wanted to go home. I tried to call the doctor’s office to confirm my appointment, but no one answered the phones. I soon realized that, whether the doctor’s office was open or not, I still had an appointment, I still wanted to go home, and this was my chance to do so. So, when it was time for me to go to the doctor, I left work as planned and went home instead. 

At home were my two roommates, both older than me but also very good friends of mine. In fact, we are still friends to this day and stay in touch often. We briefly discussed what had happened and kept our eyes on the news. As the day went on and the initial shock wore off, the realness of it all started to sink in. 

That evening, like every other Tuesday night at that time in my life, we had a meeting to attend in a church basement. Every week a bunch of us gathered together to discuss our lives, our relationship with God, and the spiritual experiences we had each had, through which we shared a common bond. We met regularly, and still do in a different forum, so that others who may be interested in what we have to offer may find us and a way to change their lives. 

As was our custom, we gathered, had some coffee or tea, talked for an hour, said a prayer, and then began to part ways. Before we left, however, one of the members of our group pointed out that no one, not a single person, had spoken of or even alluded to the events of that morning in our meeting. In spite of the severity and gravity of the event, it simply never came up, and the reason it never came up was because that was not what we were there for. 

We knew our purpose for being together, which was to carry the message of the profound change that had taken place in our lives after we gave our lives to God, cleaned up our pasts, and then shared this good news freely with others. We were not there to talk about current events, no matter how tragic. For that hour, the only thing that mattered was that we share with each other and whoever else wanted to listen, what our lives were like, the spiritual transformation we had experienced, the process through which we experienced that transformation, and what our lives were like as the result of that transformation, and, as this gentleman pointed out, we stuck to that primary purpose, even on what is now infamously known as 9/11. 

I think about this experience and the lesson it offers quite often. If I know my purpose in life or in specific relationships or situations, and I stick to that purpose, I am much less likely to get caught up in all of the other things going on in life that either don’t concern me or that I cannot do anything about. This is not the same as apathy, however. I care a lot about a lot of things. Rather, it is about purpose and effectiveness. 

If, on that day, we had allowed the events of 9/11 to seep into our gathering, we would not have been able to do the work we were there to do. It would have made us less effective. And, the work we were there to do was and is extremely important. It literally changed my life and the lives of many others. By talking about the events of 9/11, we would not have been talking about God and spiritual transformation, and that would have been a shame. 

I have found that this principle carries over quite well into other aspects of my life. For example, when I am with my family, if I focus on my family and not on current events or politics, I am much more useful to them and we enjoy our time together more fully. When I’m at work and my attention is on the work itself and on my relationships with my coworkers, as opposed to gossip or personal opinions for example, I not only get more work done, but it is also much more satisfying and fulfilling to be at work in general. Likewise, when I’m at jiu-jitsu, my primary purpose is to teach or practice jiu-jitsu, and when I’m at church my primary purpose is to worship and praise God. 

In every aspect of my life, if I can define my purpose for being there and give my attention to that purpose without being distracted by extraneous issues that I have no control or influence over, my life is better and I am able to serve others more effectively. Of course, there is a time and place for current events, politics, etc. and for having an opinion on these things. There are even people whose purpose and profession it is to do so. However, I find that when I adhere to my life’s primary purpose, which is to love and serve God and to love and serve my fellows, I don’t actually have much time or desire to get caught up in those things or to drag them into places they don’t belong. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

I’m afraid of losing her

Ever since my daughter was born, I would check on her multiple times each night to make sure she was still breathing. Nearly ten years later and I still do this. If she goes to sleep before me, when I go upstairs, I check on her before I go to bed. If I wake up in the middle of the night, I go in her room to check on her before going back to sleep. If I wake up before her in the morning, I check on her before I go downstairs. 

I’ve often thought about why this I do this. I’m sure it’s partly out of habit. I’ve been doing it for so long that it’s just something I do. But there’s more to it than that. 

Of course, I check on her because I love her. She’s my only child and we are extremely close. She means the world to me and I adore her. But if I’m being honest with myself, that’s only part of why I check on her so often. 

Having reflected on this behavior quite a bit over the years, the thing I keep coming back to is fear. I’m afraid of losing her, of something happening to her in her sleep, and of her dying suddenly with no warning or explanation. I’m afraid of this because, deep down, I still feel like I don’t deserve her. 

My daughter is such an amazing soul. She is thoughtful, compassionate, kind, creative, hardworking, and extremely smart. I’m in awe of her and I have more love for her than I ever thought I was capable of having for another human being. The thought of losing her terrifies me. 

I have done a lot wrong in my life. At times, I have been selfish, careless, and unkind. Especially in my youth, I have done many things that I regret. And while I know that my shortcomings and mistakes do not define who I am, I also know that I have a life better than I deserve, especially when it comes to her. In the back of my mind, and sometimes in the forefront, I am haunted by the thought of losing her as some kind of divine punishment for my pride, anger, and other wrongdoings. 

Sometimes, this fear drives me to be a better father. It motivates me to spend as much time with her as possible, to be as present for her as I am capable of being, to guide her as best I can, and to let her know that I love her often. Other times, it’s just fear. It results in worry, anxiety, and restless nights. 

The thing is that I know that God loves me and forgives me for my past mistakes. I have confessed them to him and another person, and I have tried to right my wrongs to the best of my ability. I also know, however, that what’s done is done and I cannot change the past. I have to live with my mistakes. 

I’m not sure why I’m writing all of this other than that I needed to get it out. I needed to acknowledge it and put it “on paper” so to speak. Perhaps I wonder if other fathers have the same feelings toward their children, a feeling of absolute unworthiness for the unfathomable miracle that they are. Maybe this is my way of reaching out for connection with those who feel the same way that I do, or maybe someone else needs to know that they are not alone. 

What I am sure of, however, is that God is loving and merciful, so loving in fact that he sacrificed his own son to pay for my sins. For me to continue to wallow in grief and remorse is almost ungrateful, almost a denial of that gift, and it certainly does not make me more useful to God or the people around me. My fear is a subtle way of rejecting God’s grace. 

Perhaps that’s what this is all about. Maybe, through the deep and unexplainable feelings I have for my daughter, God is showing me how much he loves me. I might be making too much out of nothing, but it doesn’t feel like nothing to me. It feels like everything and, as I check on her this evening and kiss her goodnight, I will do so as a form of prayer. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Fumbling into spirituality

When I was first getting clean and sober over twenty seven years ago, I was told that I had an illness for which the only known treatment was a spiritual experience, a complete personality transformation through the development of a conscious contact with a higher power. Up until this point, I’m not sure I’d ever even heard the word spiritual before, let alone understood what it meant to have a spiritual experience. I did have some concept of God from going to church as a kid and I knew about religion in a general sense, but spirituality was entirely new territory for me. 

This newness may be one of the reasons I was attracted to, or at least not opposed to, this idea that felt revolutionary to me. At that point in my life, religion scared me and I had rejected the idea of God as a teenager, but I was willing, mostly through pain and desperation, to take a shot at this thing called spirituality. And I feel very fortunate that the person helping me at the time, my spiritual director, so to speak, never pushed his own beliefs on me. Rather, he introduced me to a variety of spiritual and religious ideas, books, and teachings, and encouraged me to find my own way. 

In the beginning, however, this all confused me, as I thought I had to construct a higher power for myself from all of the different source material I was studying. I tried to take a little bit from here and a little bit from there, keeping what I liked and ignoring or discarding what I didn’t. It was as if I was working on my own Create-A-God kit with the hope of coming up with a higher power I could trust and rely on. It wasn’t until much later when I realized that, if God is anything, he isn’t what I want or imagine him to be. He is what and who he is, beyond my limitations, expectations, and understanding. 

All of this to say, my first steps onto the spiritual path were clumsy to say the least. I was like a man fumbling around in the dark for a light-switch, bumping into furniture, tripping on the carpet, and knocking over lamps along the way. But the beautiful thing about the spiritual path, especially in the beginning, is that it is broad and forgiving, leaving room for mistakes, misunderstandings, and missteps, and I made many. 

In hindsight, I see that God’s grace allowed me this time of discovery. My curiosity and sincerity have always been rewarded by him with the love and understanding of a patient father, even if sometimes I tested the limits of this patience and he let me know it. But God is forgiving – it’s a good thing too because I have done and continue to do plenty for which I have needed forgiveness – and the longer I walk this path, the more I can feel the truth of this. All he asks is that, whether we call it spirituality, religion, or something more specific, we step forward in faith. If we do this, he will always be there to help us up when we fall. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Pray without ceasing

There is so much temptation to argue with the world over worldly things and I often give in to that temptation, but every time I do, it leaves me feeling empty and disappointed. Specifically when I engage in online debate, whatever dubious, fleeting pleasure I get out of trying to be right is quickly replaced by hollow dissatisfaction. Even if I perceive myself as having won whatever debate I interjected myself into, the cost is almost always greater than the reward. 

What is there to even win? What will I gain compared to my lost time, attention, and happiness? The answer is little to nothing. In fact, it’s not even a net zero. I inevitably end up feeling worse than when I started after having wasted precious minutes and hours focused on something other than what is actually good, healthy, and fulfilling. 

In spite of this, I still find myself battling the temptation to get involved in things that don’t really concern me. It’s not even that I am drawn in by some righteous or noble cause, and I’m not trying to create some great change through debate. It’s my pride and vanity driving me to engage in this pointless conflict for the sake of conflict. The truth is most people are not arguing online to have their minds changed anyway. Rather, I’m simply trying to seem smart or to prove others wrong. This is not the path to heaven or even contentment. It’s quite the opposite, in fact. 

Case in point, after the recent election, I found myself engaging with some posts on my social media feed. I then shared an old friends post which expressed a controversial political opinion. Adding to this, I created a post stating a dissenting view on my own post, hoping for validation, but expecting negative attention.

As time passed, I started getting comments on my posts. I engaged with some of them. Others I ignored. But what I started to notice was that, even when I was not on social media, I was thinking about what comments others were making on my posts. What did the think about me? What were they saying about me? Who else agreed with them? Was I upsetting people? How was this affecting my public image? All of this self-centered fear drove me to check my social media feed on my phone over and over again for hours. 

The more I checked my phone, the worse I felt. This was not because people were criticizing me and my point of view. I expected that and I could have predicted exactly who would do so, as well as what they would say. I felt worse over time because I began realizing just how fruitless this activity was. More so, it was becoming clear to me that, aside from this not adding value to my life, it was actually detracting from my joy, my peace of mind, and my ability to focus the things that truly matter. 

Most importantly, however, I realized that all of this time spent worrying about what other people were thinking or saying was time I was not thinking about God. That is, instead of engaging people in political debate on social media, I could have been praying. I don’t mean on my knees prayer, which I do at the beginning and end of the day, but “praying without ceasing (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18)” through meditation, contemplation, spiritual reading, Christian podcasts, or service work. By obsessing over worldly matters, I was ignoring my higher calling. I was ignoring God. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

In stillness

“I invite you to sit still, sit straight, fold your hands and bow. Repeat after me:
Be still, and know that I am God (Psalm 46:10 NIV).
Be still, and know that I am.
Be still, and know.
Be still.
Be.” 

Followed by several minutes of silence, this simple, but beautifully powerful prayer is how Dr. James Finley closes out each podcast episode of Turning to the Mystics. In addition to leading theTurning to the Mystics podcast with co-host Kristen Oats, Dr. Finley is an author, clinical psychologist, retreat leader, public speaker, and former student of the late, modern mystic Thomas Merton. In each episode, drawing from his vast knowledge of and experience with the material, Dr. Finley gives listeners modern, practical perspective on the writings and teachings of various figureheads in the Christian mystical tradition. 

A now devout listener of the Turning to the Mystics podcast, which came into my life at exactly the right time (funny how God seems to always work that way), this prayer was on my mind this morning as I did my morning meditation. Being still has always been difficult for me, especially in the sense that God means it in this particular Psalm. I’m a worrier, a planner, and a doer. Sitting in silence for an extended period of time, being still and allowing God to be God, goes against every instinct I have. 

This resistance to stillness has come at a cost. Several years ago, I essentially worried, planned, and worked my way into a series of anxiety attacks. I had reached my limit, the jumping off place, where my best best ideas and my best thinking were no longer working. I was working two jobs, one of which was my own business, training jiu-jitsu as much as I could, and trying to navigate family life to the best of my ability, all while neglecting my physical, mental, and spiritual health. 

As covid swept through the world and things began to shut down, I crashed. Life came to a grinding halt and I, who had been running full speed for longer than I can remember, broke down. At the time, I had no idea what was happening, but it felt like my life, and my sanity, was ending. I couldn’t sit still, let alone be still, and I had no where to go. Forced to be with myself, undistracted by the hectic pace I to which I had grown accustomed, I crumbled under the weight of my own unresolved issues. 

Like so many times before, in this moment of desperation, I said a prayer. At the time, I didn’t know it was a prayer. I prayed on my knees every day upon awakening and before going to sleep, but this was not like that. This was my soul crying out for help. From the deepest part of my being, I admitted that what I was doing wasn’t working, that who I had become was not who I was intended to be, and that I couldn’t go on anymore like this. 

I’d like to say that I changed immediately and all was well from that moment on, but the truth is that it has been a long, difficult road from there to here. Along the way, I began working with a therapist, I left my job of twelve years and my career of almost twenty, I refocused my attention on my family and my health, and, most importantly, I was led back to my spiritual path in a deeper, more meaningful way than I previously thought possible. God is now at the center at my life where he belongs and it is easy for me to see where and how things went so wrong when, in spite of my stated beliefs and habitual prayers, my life did not reflect this simple truth. 

That brings us back to stillness. As I sat this morning to read, pray, and meditate, it occurred to me that what was once the most difficult thing in the world for me to do is now the thing that feels the most natural, the most necessary, and the most fulfilling. That, in spite of my resistance, obstinance, and even defiance, I can, and do, sit down every morning to simply be with God is nothing less than a miracle. 

In stillness, I find the peace, rest, and connection that no amount of running, chasing, or hustling was ever going to bring me. In stillness, I learn that life goes on around and without me, and that I do not have to involve myself with or react to every little thing that crosses my mind or my path. In stillness, there is freedom from boredom, worry, and desire. In stillness, I surrender to the love that sustains me. In stillness, I am allowed, or rather commanded, to merely be, to trust and know that God is God.

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Invest in spiritual tools

When I was a teenager, my father told me something like, “Invest in quality tools. If you buy cheap tools, they will break. Then, you’ll be buying them twice, the first time when you buy the cheap tools and the second time when you buy the expensive tools to replace the broken cheap tools.” Needless to say, I didn’t listen. For as long as I can remember, defiance against authority has plagued my decision making, even when it means self-sabotage. 

Many years later, I was in the middle of a project for work in the city and I realized that I didn’t have a flat-head screwdriver. So I made a quick run to the store. But there are not many hardware or tool stores in the city, so I stopped at the closest place I could find, which happened to be some sort of dollar store. 

Hesitant but in a hurry, I grabbed a screwdriver and checked out with the cashier. All the while, I thought to myself, “This thing is cheap, but it’s a screwdriver. What could go wrong? It’s not the best screwdriver, but it will get the job done. How could they mess up a screwdriver?” I wasn’t convinced, but I was trying to keep my spirits up. 

I made my way back to the job-site and put the screwdriver in the screw-head. As I attempted to turn the screw, the entire tip of the screwdriver broke off in the slot. I immediately thought back to my father’s warning about buying cheap tools and my head fell in shame and frustration. 

As much as I wanted to be angry at the manufacturer, the store I bought it from, or even the screwdriver itself, I knew that this was my fault and I couldn’t blame anyone else. After all, the signs were there – my father had warned me, I knew it was a dollar store, and my spidey-sense was tingling, even if I tried to shut it up – I just chose to ignore them.

More important than the dollar and some change that I spent on a screwdriver that couldn’t drive screws, I had just wasted an hour of my life and the job still wasn’t done. So I found a hardware store, bought a decent screwdriver, and went back to the job-site to finish what I’d started. It’s been several years since this happened, but both the lesson and the image of that broken screwdriver are burned into my memory.

I recently recounted this story to a friend when we were talking about how fortunate we are to have a set of spiritual tools with which to navigate our lives and through which to solve the problems we face. This wasn’t always the case and I’m beyond grateful that, through God’s grace, I have been given a new lease on life. I spent many years trying to manage with a set of cheap, broken, or non-existent tools. 

It wasn’t until I hit a spiritual, emotional, and psychological bottom that I was able to admit that what I was doing wasn’t working – that I was using a broken screwdriver – and I had no idea where to go or who to ask for help. But “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18 NIV)” and, through the kindness of people in my life who loved me, as well as the help countless generous strangers, God heard my cries and delivered me out of my suffering. 

It’s been many years since I made the decision to turn my will and life over to the care of God and more recently Jesus Christ, but I now have an entirely different outlook on life and an entirely new set of tools with which to work. Of course, I still make poor decisions rather frequently, whether out of obstinance, impatience, or ignorance, but I now know that in God’s word and in his grace, there is an infinite store of wisdom, love, and peace at my disposal if only I am willing to trust him and not settle for cheap tools that don’t work anyway. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox.