Do not drag me away with the wicked, with those who are workers of evil, who speak peace with their neighbors while mischief is in their hearts. (Psalm 28)
It is strange. I’ve never thought or worried about God “dragging me away with the wicked.” I’ve always assumed the wicked would be dragged away, of course. I’ve always assumed I would enjoy seeing “their” demise. It is always “they” who work evil; it is always “they” who speak peace out one side of their mouth while their hearts are plotting mischief of one sort or another.
That’s a pretty cynical view of life, though, isn’t it? I know I always want people to judge me by my intentions, which (by the way) are always gentle, noble, and kind. Right? And I want others to be judged by their actual deeds. I want you to look into my heart and see good, while I look at your actions and see mischief, evil, wickedness, and … You get the point.
I don’t know if the psalmist understood the irony of this psalm. He’s in trouble. He’s hurting. He’s beset by enemies; he prays to God for help, and also prays for God not to accidentally sweep him up with the wicked as they get whisked away into the dustbin of history. “Swing your battle axe swiftly and powerfully, but don’t get so carried away you forget I’m going to be in your line of fire at times” (if you’ll pardon the mix of metaphors).
I don’t think I have ever prayed for God to mow down my enemies. I’ve always thought of prayer as a sort of spiritual boomerang. You may have one target in mind as you throw it, but I’m a Card Carrying (and Life-time Member) of the Murphy’s Law Club. Those boomerangs tend to come back (unless having it come back is one’s intention, in which case it is my experience it won’t). I may “think” I want the heavy hand of judgment to fall on someone, but if it does, I suspect it will fall twice as hard on me for, you see, I’m not as pure as some of my poor readers may think I am.
I know. I know. You may feel I have veered off into science fiction, but it’s true. If you open up a can of worms, there is a good chance you’ll find I am squiggling around somewhere in it. I am neither bragging nor exercising false humility. I’m a human being; I know what I think; I know what I do; I know what I want; and it’s not always the best for me or for you.
So I don’t pray for God to come down on others. I prefer to pray the Golden Rule: “Do unto them, Lord, as I would want you to do unto me.” Why? Because judging the heart of another is above my paygrade. How do I know what’s in someone else’s heart? How can I know what they are going through?
I know I have a very parochial view of life; I suspect all of us do. I’m one of the “good guys,” and everyone else is (naturally) on Inspector Clouseau’s list of evil-doers. But I also know my goodness is mixed in with other less-than-good stuff, thoughts, ideas, and actions. I know that trying to undo that mix is beyond my capacity. Whenever I try to untangle strands of spaghetti, I know I am going to end up with sauce on my clothes, face, glasses, and everywhere else. That is the nature of both spaghetti and spaghetti sauce.
So it is important for me not to think of myself as better than I am, or others as worse than they are. Yes, there are some wicked people “out” there, but I suspect they are farther and fewer between than I would otherwise think. What’s important is to know that whatever we may be struggling with, it’s OK to be honest to God about it (like the psalmist), but once we get it off our chest, to let God be God and simply ask what sort of boomerang God would have us toss around here in this, our valley. As for me, I choose the Boomerang of Blessing.
Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of newly released: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available exclusively through Amazon in Print and e-book)
No comments:
Post a Comment