In The Stillness Of The Night...Part Three

"I do not call you unfortunate," said the Large Voice.


As Shasta travelled in solitude that dark night, every breath he took, was filled with fear. How he saw himself and his life was to quickly and dramatically change with the spoken words: "I do not call you unfortunate." Like Shasta, how do we lift our gaze from our inner misery to consider the possibility that reality might be somthing different than what we suppose it to be.

First... consider that our ability to assess our present circumstances is affected by everything that has come before, in our lives: our relationships with our mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers; our successes and failures; our physical attributes and so much more. The memories that we pull from the past, have been shaped by our limited reasoning ability and further coloured by engaging our imagination. We brood over these poor unfortunate circumstances from the past. For example, if you were poorly treated by a certain young man,you might believe that all young men are not to be trusted. When you were also young, you may have been teased and told that you were unattractive; you might never believe that you are the beautiful young woman that you have grown into. Missing the loving attention that you should have received from a mother or father,you might go through life searching vainly for that love but never feeling truly loved. So before you decide that life, fate, God has been unfair to you, know where you have come from and what rules your heart.

The second thing that possibly leads us to poorly assessing our unfortunate circumstances is that, while you are a unique individual, so are those around you. While we enjoy the companionship of those who share similar beliefs, habits, goals, interests, it is rare to really understand another human being, their innermost thoughts, because we are all so complex and have all travelled different roads.

My husband and I, despite our love for each other, find it challenging to travel together. We just returned from Nova Scotia where we took some time to see some of the countryside after attending a conference in Halifax. I loved exploring the musty old churches, visiting an old graveyard, going from one used book store to another and finding the restaurant that served the best Atlantic fish chowder; he enjoyed the Amercian destroyer in the harbour, searching out all the Subaru's in Halifax, studying the lines and riggings on the tall ships, and settling for ordinary fish and chips. At home, his pace moves him quickly through his day's agenda, a driven man. I, in contrast, spin in circles, pausing frequently to reflect. However when we travel, it is I who becomes purpose driven, packing as much of the new sights and sounds into my world incase I never come there again. He slows down, relaxes, unwinds. Neither of us venture too far from our zones of comfort. You get the point...we are different in some... many ways.

The point of true confusion arrived when we went for a drive down the coast and had to decide which road to travel on. I was desperately longing to wander along the coast exploring all the outports. He wanted to take the main road which sort of ran by the coast. Gazing out at the sea, takes my breath away and at times moves me to tears. Even though it has been many years since we have lived there, my memories of living by the sea remain vivid and meaningful to me. I had promised myself that I would take away new memories of the seascape and its way of life . Well.... we ended up taking the faster road and I intensely pouted, feeling wounded and my poor husband didn't quite understand the reason for my unhappiness. It was at this time, that God checked my attitude by suggesting to me that perhaps things were not as they seemed. He was right. My excessive feelings were not to be trusted. My husband apologized for not understanding and I moved on to just being with my husband and enjoying his company. And I think that was really what this time was suppose to be about. We enjoyed the rest of our time together there and my hope is that we gave each other something that counted, that will make a difference in our relationship. With his perspective and mine, hopefully we both saw a larger view. The point is that we do travel on different paths and it is difficult to know another person's thoughts, shaped by their memories, as it is difficult to know God's thoughts, His plans for our lives. We just may not see things as they really are. If God is God, we must be content to go where He leads.

This leads us into one more important thought about assessing our unfortunate circumstances and that is: his design for our lives is perfect and we have yet to see the completed workmanship. Ravi Zacharias, in his book, "Walking From East to West," remembers the exquisitely beautiful wedding saris he saw as a boy growing up in India. With vibrant coloured, gold and silver threads, patterns are woven into fabrics which would make one think "they came from the perfect mind and the perfect pair of hands." Listen to his description of meeting a master weaver.

"I walked into a building and then into a little side room. In typical Indian fashion, the surroundings leave very much to be desired, but the final product is nothing short of a work of art. Essentially, a father and son team makes each sari. The father sits on a raised platform with huge spools of brilliantly colored threads within his reach. The son sits on the floor in the lotus position. The team wears basic and simple clothing. Their fingers move nimbly, their hands work, and their eyes focus on the pattern emerging with each move of the shuttle.

Before my eyes, though it did not appear so at first, a grand design appears. The father gathers some threads in his hand, then nods, and the son moves the shuttle from one side to the other. A few more threads, another nod, and again the son responds by moving the shuttle. The process seems almost Sisyphus-like in its repetition, the silence broken only occasionally with a comment or by some visitor who interrupts to ask a question about the end design. The father smiles and tries in broken English to explain the picture he has in his mind, but compared to the magnificence of the final product, it is a mere lisp. I know that if I were to come back a few weeks later- in some instances a few months later- I would see the spools of the thread almost empty and a six yard long sari, breathtaking in all of its splendor.

Throughout the process, the son has had a much easier task. Most likely he has often felt bored. Perhaps his back has ached and his legs have gone to sleep. Perhaps he has wished for some other calling in life- something he might find more stimulating or fulfilling. He has but one task, namely, to move the shuttle as directed by the father's nod, hoping to learn, to think like the father so that he can carry on the business at the appropriate time.

Yet the whole time, the design has remained in the mind of the father as he held the threads. In a few days, this sari will make its way to a shop in Delhi or Bombay or Calcutta. A lovely young lady with her mother will note the saris on display. This one will catch her eye and she will exclaim, "Bohut badiya (how grand)! Khupsurat (what a beautiful face)!" A sari with a beautiful face, because a grand weaver has purposefully designed it. Before long, it will be draped around her, beautifying the lovely bride."

If we could only see ourselves and our circumstances through God's eyes, we may not call ourselves unfortunate because we are part of a beautiful plan.