“Take us the foxes, the little foxes that spoil the vines; for our vines have tender grapes.” (Song of Solomon 2:15)
Little foxes: those small
providences behind which we struggle to see a smiling face while we chase them
(or they chase us) through the vineyards of life. As I write this in my journal,
I sit at my desk waiting for my laptop to do a providentially permitted reboot which will
take several minutes - minutes from a pool of minutes which remained after I treated myself
to several earlier minutes of conversation with my son – a conversation which followed
a block of minutes invested in cleaning up a mess which was the result of
forgetting to put my cup on the espresso machine.
As I scrawl my thoughts (with an amazing display of self-control) I remember the counsel of Jennie Allen in her
book, “Get Out of Your Head.” She tells me I have a choice; and she is right,
of course. The problem is, my flesh helps me think, logically, that I
should not have to make a choice in these circumstances. THEY SHOULDN'T BE HAPPENING IN THE FIRST PLACE !!! Someone needs to be reminded that He is the one
who allows me to be distracted and do dumb stuff.
On other occasions foxes morph from
little things to interpersonal things. (It’s funny, now that I think of it, how
I tend to think of my laptop is somehow being conscious of what I’m telling it.) Someone needs to remind other some-ones in my life that they’ve got issues to
work on, too. I’m not the only one, you know. It is patently unfair for me to be
left to fume over distracting narratives of injustices and the like - injustices which lead
to forgotten coffee cups or which fill wait-time with irritation while my laptop gets its act
together.
I know full well, like Jonah at
Nineveh, that choosing to draw near to Someone and delight in Him instead of getting His attention with a good pout, will result in ongoing, providential blunders while grace is
shown to other people who need to get a good dose of smitten conscience like I get whenever I try to club foxes in my own way.
So, the thing to do is keep putting
pressure on Someone until He does something about the little (and the big)
foxes which fill me with so much resentment. I’ll sit right down under a vine
and fold my arms and wait – if I can find a vine that I haven’t already
trampled while chasing foxes with my noble club of victimhood.
Disclaimer: No one has complained about the above article. Nevertheless, I feel the need to make sure the reader is aware of what is happening. The events are true. The reactions are imagined on the basis of what could actually unfold in the thoughts you and me when self-pity misuses the truth of God's providence. Beware!
I have changed the title of the article to help clarify potential confusion.
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