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March 2004 An author has told of a diplomat from a tropical country who early in life won a scholarship to study in the United States. The author writes, “Later the diplomat confessed that he had always known the idea of cold. But that meant nothing. College years in Minnesota instructed him about its reality. Out of necessity, he learned to protect himself by adding layers of outer clothes. For a time, he resisted embarrassing earmuffs. Yet eventually he welcomed even the silly-looking garment that, being close to his frail ear, gave him comfort and helped him survive. Through it all, he noticed that life went on. People went about their business, having planned for the cold and barren times to come.” The author goes on to comment that the “same God who promised seedtime and harvest would never disappear form the earth gave people the brains to face the season.” Farmers learned to store up food, set aside fodder for their animals, prepare for harsh winter months. In this way, they came to share in the providence, the providing of God, and those who believed in God acknowledged the source of that providing and gave thanks for divine protection. The author then concludes, “The promises of God can appear pointless to those who do not use the provided means for finding help that this God offers, as when in the gift Jesus Christ more love than we need is made available.” Perhaps because I grew up in Minnesota, this nation of divine providence strikes a chord. God does provide. God provides brains and abilities, friends and strangers, help in all kinds of forms to survive even the harshest of seasons. Of course, sometimes we refuse to use the provided means. Maybe because we feel silly or foolish or weak. I remember waiting for the school bus on January mornings when the temperature was thirty degrees below zero. Being in high school and wanting to impress the girls, my friends and I would not wear stocking caps or earmuffs. We paid dearly with frozen ears. The other concern was not messing up our hair. Most of us finally figured out a way to wear earmuffs and yet look tough and manly and keep our hair neat. Even then, we paid the price. But we were not about to be seen as silly or foolish or weak. How often, I wonder, do we refuse the help God provides in the form of friends or counselors or family to face the harsh seasons of grief or difficulty? Then again, it may be our theology. “I’m going to put it in the hands of the Lord,” we will say. Then we wait to see if God will do something about it. The problem is that God does respond, but not in a way that we consider being directly from God. It’s like the old joke about a man on a rooftop with the floodwaters rising. A neighbor in a rowboat comes by and offers help, as does a fireman in a motorboat and even a rescue helicopter, but each time the man refuses help and says, “The Lord will save me.” At last the floodwaters consume him and he drowns. Upon entering heaven, he immediately questions God: “Why didn’t you save me?” God replies, “Hey, I sent you two boats and a helicopter — what more do you want?” God does provide. In a recent novel, a character says something to the effect that there are answers to our prayers all around us, if only we would look. And there are answers within as well. God does provide. Even more love than we would ever need in the gift of Christ. More than enough even for the harshest seasons. During the season of Lent, perhaps we each should consider again how we share God’s providing, and use the help God provides no matter how silly or foolish we feel. Then give thanks and go about our lives knowing that even the harshest of seasons finally give way to seasons of new life and hope. God be with you, Jeff
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