I winced as I felt my teeth sink hard upon the inside of my cheek, showering my head with burning pain—I had just witnessed, all-too-firsthand, the dangers of eating a bagel too quickly. I immediately adjusted my manner of eating. A moment ago, my highest priority had been chewing the bagel before all the delectable cinnamon-sugar melted away; now I shifted to the more practical goal of not chewing up the inside of my mouth.
As the pain and my reactive wince subsided, I began contemplating what had just happened. I had not bitten myself of my own accord; for whatever reason, God willed that seemingly unfortunate event. I began to gaze warily at my surroundings. What else could God will at this moment? Might the roof come tumbling down upon my unsuspecting head? Or, perhaps, would the lake outside the window, in roaring tsunamic rampage, surge forward and wipe away the building in which I dined? Pondering such potential pains (all of which outweighed my bitten mouth by serious degrees), I finally began to understand what "fear of the Lord" means.
My rather macabre reveries revealed an underlying assumption which I'd never truly faced before: God has the power to do whatever He wants to us. Truly, the concept of an all-powerful deity, taken alone, contains some frightful implications. If God so chose, He could fly us up to the stratosphere, spin us around 18 times, then drop us like skydivers without parachutes. He could cause a rainstorm of rocks to thunder upon us—indoors. Dare I mention it, He could even cause the song "Thriller" to play, in a sort of eternal repeat mode, unceasingly through the maddened corridors of our own minds.
There is quite literally nothing that He could not do to us, if He so chose. Now thankfully, our religion tells us that He will most likely not do any of this. God loves us, and His actions in Scripture make that resoundingly clear. But the fact remains, and the story of Job stands out as an unsettling reminder of this, that God has the power to do whatsoever He wants.
Now a moment's reflection on this fact ought not result in fearful frenzy or dead-eyed depression. Quite the contrary, in fact—because such a solid conviction of God's power results in an equally-solid conviction of our own powerlessness.
At any moment, we could be rendered deaf and dumb for the rest of our days. Why should that scare us? It should just shock us into the realization that we aren't here for our own fulfillment. We are so powerless that we can't possibly fulfill ourselves, no matter how hard we try. Everything temporal that we've worked for and continue to work for—it could all be wiped away in a second. If that were to happen, what would remain? Self-fulfillment is not our job.
It comes as a surprise to remember this, every now and then. We are not here to fulfill our own desires, but to obey the Will of He Who made us. It's a simple but foundational change in perspective, a true inversion of our priorities. And it helps a lot. Of course, the greatest paradox arrives when we learn that God's Will is to fulfill us, but that fulfillment will only come when we submit ourselves to Him, cutting every string, surrendering every cheap battle, and embracing every human spirit with an open heart and a thankful soul.
Who knew that biting yourself could be so great?
Fearing the Lord (in a good way),
Joezilla
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