Flow like Water

How God's Constraints are Both Life Giving and Freeing

We take the ‘back way’ to school because it’s shorter, but I’d be tempted to take it even if it wasn’t. Like many side roads in our valley, it follows the course of water. Around steep hilly grades, across single lane bridges, through tree lined roads, we delight in God’s creative design. Oh, if only we could afford more time, what renewal of mind and spirit could take place there.

In dappled morning light, squirrels scamper across the pavement in search of lost acorns. We pass the groundhog munching a bit of clover. Occasionally, a doe will lift her head in surprise at our arrival.

In winter, glistening snow clings to each crevice and branch. In fall, the woods are aglow with burning hues of red and gold. The changing seasons are reflected in the meandering creek, too. We watch it rise and fall, freeze and thaw. It slows to a crawl in the drought of July and rushes with power full of spring rain.

Creation is pregnant with the presence of God and elicits due praise to the Creator and Sustainer of life!

“God of the glorious sunshine,
God of refreshing rain,
Whose voice bids earth awaken
And clothe itself again
With life of richest beauty
In plant, in flower, in tree,
Thou God of light and splendor,
We rise and worship thee.”¹

Some of my favorite verses in Scripture point to God’s sovereignty over creation—specifically the water. Such as these from Psalm 104:

“He set the earth on its foundations; it can never be moved.
You covered it with the deep as with a garment;
the waters stood above the mountains.
But at your rebuke the waters fled, at the sound of your thunder they took to flight;
they flowed over the mountains, they went down into the valleys,
to the place you assigned for them.
You set a boundary they cannot cross; never again will they cover the earth.”
(v. 5-9)

And here in Psalm 33 with its lovely imagery His great power is stated quite simply—perhaps to illustrate just how little effort is required of Him:

“He gathers the waters of the sea into jars; he puts the deep into storehouses.” (v. 7)

To the ancient world, the sea meant chaos, danger, and the unknown. Imagine the display of power fleeing Israel witnessed as they walked through the Red Sea on dry ground. I command creation, the Lord was saying. I tame even the seas.

How much better we feel when our households are put in order. How it calms the restless mind. Ours is a God of order; and we are made to reflect Him. In the beginning, He ordered the dark and shapeless void. He created the sun to rule the day and the moon to govern the night. He separated land from water giving each its purpose and place in His grand design.

I remember just a year ago, we watched in wonder as a combination of steady rain and melting ice overwhelmed the creek bed flooding the road and yards of surrounding homes. Traffic was rerouted as the roads became impassable. What was once tranquil and picturesque was now mud, mess, and ruin. For it is within its boundaries the creek is most useful and good.

Can we not apply the same lesson to ourselves?

Straying too far from His intended design for us, we live in either deficiency or disorder. When we stray from the virtuous path of generosity, for example, we fall into stinginess (deficiency) or extravagance (disorder). Abandoning patience, we experience either impatience or indifference. Deserting contentment we are left either discontent or complacent. How plainly we see the Fall’s devastating effects when we live outside God’s plan for abundant life.

In His sovereign power and wisdom, the Lord provides boundaries for all His creation. It is a loving thing to do for He remembers ‘how we are formed.’ I have found that when I experience stress, anxiety, or exhaustion it most often stems from trying to live outside my limitations. The creek along our back roads is not just simply lovely to view, it provides essential components of the ecosystem—animals and birds and humans depend on it. How useful it is, however, depends on how well it stays within its banks.

Have you ever considered that your limitations or handicaps might be the key to your usefulness in service to God?

The idea is utterly opposite anything the world would teach.

In his psalm, David declared: “Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; you have made my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.” (16: 5-6)

The first time I read this psalm, I couldn’t stop thinking about the ‘boundary lines’ God has placed in my life and confessed how much they frustrated me. I wanted more control—control over finances, our future, our health. I felt limited and I didn’t like it.

How often do we consider the ‘boundary lines’ of our lives as gifts from a loving Father?

I’m tempted to think rather that if I was smarter, or had more time, or wasn’t so inadequate that I could be more useful to God. But the Bible teaches us quite the opposite, doesn’t it? It was the weak and insecure Gideon the Lord used to lead Israel against the Midianites. Though he hated his speech impediment, God nevertheless chose Moses to do mighty miracles before powerful Pharoah. And it was an impulsive, uneducated fisherman who eventually became a pillar of the newly formed Church.

And this kind of usefulness through limitation isn’t constrained to Bible times.

One of the most inspiring people I’ve ever listened to has been Joni Eareckson Tada.

When Joni was 17, she dove into the Chesapeake Bay and hit her head on a sandbar breaking her spinal cord, leaving her body completely paralyzed. She struggled desperately with feelings of despair during her time in the hospital even hoping she could die. She had no idea how amazingly God would use her through (and perhaps because of) her limitations.

Despite living with quadriplegia for six decades, Joni is a sought-after and beloved Christian speaker and author (having written more than 48 books), has learned to paint (and beautifully too) by holding a brush between her teeth, and founded Joni and Friends, an organization dedicated to serving the disabled community. A tremendous example of resilience, perseverance, and a life lived for the glory of God, her honesty and courage are deeply moving and impactful.

When asked in an interview if depression still ensnares her, Joni said this:

“My girlfriends will tell you—in the morning when I wake up, I know they’ll be coming into my bedroom to give me a bed bath, do my toileting routines, pull up my pants, put me in the wheelchair, feed me breakfast, and push me out the front door. I lie there thinking, Oh God, I cannot face this. I’m so tired of this routine. My hip is killing me. I’m so weary. I don’t know how I’m going to make it to lunchtime. I have no energy for this day. God, I can’t do quadriplegia. But I can do all things through you as you strengthen me. So, God, I have no smile for these girlfriends of mine who are going to come in here with a happy face. Can I please borrow your smile? I need it desperately. I need you.

Maybe the really handicapped people are the ones who [think] “I got this Christian thing figured out. I’ll check in with you [God] now and then, but I can pretty much do it on my own.”

…He gives grace to the humble—the people who wake up in the morning knowing they can’t do this thing called life without the divine help of the Savior. That makes my disability such an advantage. I’m so blessed to have it force me into the arms of Christ every morning, because I know my human inclination is not to go to the Cross every morning.”

Joni often reminds her listeners of how Paul boasted in—even delighted in—his weaknesses because through his limitations, God displayed His mighty strength which should be an encouragement to us all.

Paul was a remarkable figure—highly intelligent, a strong leader, bold and passionate, but to keep him from growing conceited, God gave him a handicap—“a thorn in the flesh.” It tormented Paul. Rather than change his circumstances, however, God gave him perspective. “My grace is sufficient for you.” (See 2 Cor 12:1-10)

Through new vision, Paul was able to see and celebrate the gift God had given him. Like Joni, Paul’s insufficiency caused him to depend on and exult in our Lord’s sufficiency which remains the very best place to flourish. His deep wells of Life are not only sufficient but satisfying.

---

Though God doesn’t constrain everyone in such physical ways, many rebel against any kind of limitation—particularly ones of choice. The Christian life is often considered too restrictive by outsiders. ‘Too many rules,’ they say. ‘I just want to be free.’

Author and musician, Andrew Peterson, has been writing and sharing Lenten Sonnets this season, and I’m loving them. His creativity has inspired me to try my hand at writing one. A sonnet, considered one of the more difficult forms to master, restricts the composer to fourteen lines, a specific rhyme scheme, and iambic pentameter.

I’m no Shakespeare (or Andrew Peterson, for that matter!) but I found the limitations arousing to my creativity, rather than detracting. The strict meter and rhyme harnessed my imagination and channeled it toward greater focus and productivity. Rather than “flood” the page like an overwhelmed creek bed, I was forced to be succinct and use only the words which would most efficiently carry my theme to its provoking conclusion.

Why shouldn’t this experience carry over to the Christian life as well?

The yoke of the world is broad. Anything goes. No limits. No restrictions. No boundaries. Our passing whims deluge the field of life—leaving mess and ruin in its wake.

Wearing the yoke of Christ, I am set on the narrow path—a channel. I am safely held in bounds, and within those ‘boundary lines’ I am free to explore and move about—knowing the path is defined with purpose and intention leading me towards a Good End.

All the while, I rely on Him to quench the thirst of dry seasons and cause the flourishing of fruit in due time. Contrary to what the world believes, my limitations are the key to my usefulness in the service of God. For in my weakness, His power is made manifest.

No longer aimless, I am confident of my direction and continue in the streams of His Living Water which move me ever steadily toward His City.

“There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy place where the Most High dwells.
God is within her, she will not fall;
God will help her at break of day.”
Psalm 46: 4-5

1. from Thomas Paxton’s hymn: “God of the Glorious Sunshine”