Leaving well enough alone
On that day, a shoot shall sprout from the stump of Jesse, and from his roots a bud shall blossom. The Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon him … The cow and the bear shall be neighbors, together their young shall rest. The lion will eat hay like the ox, the baby shall play by the cobra’s den, and there shall be no harm or ruin on all my holy mountain. And the earth shall be filled with knowledge of the Lord, as waters cover the sea.
– From Isaiah 11
That green field where I spread our cow’s manure stretched in front of me. My seat on our John Deere B, padded but cold, was patched with duct tape. Even young as I was, I knew the levers and pedals, and started the spreader where I’d left off with the last load.
Our dog (was her name really Lassie?) ran beside me, like she always did. But toward the end of the field she got mixed up, I guess, and ran under the wheels. I drove over her before I knew. Stopped the tractor with a scream. I jumped down.
Lassie made noises I had never heard. I screamed so scared, angry, guilty, panicked. We were as far away from the house as the field allowed, and I picked her up and began to run. I will not forget those breathless sobs, not in a thousand years. A lifetime’s not too long …
To live as friends was all she wanted, Lassie. And we did. So sweet to come outside on those cold days, walk frozen ground, fine yellow dog waiting for me, wagging her whole body with her tail. We had some wonderful times. In the summer I laid down on that same black dirt, smelled the grass while she licked my face.
Now, remembering instead her death and my part in it, the headlong heavy weight of that fancy Bible word “dominion” crushes me. Right there at the start of it all (Genesis 1:28) God puts us in charge. But I am not wise in the “knowledge of good and evil.” I go too far too fast, or too slow, not far enough. Mostly, I have not learned the magic of leaving well enough alone.
But still, that does seem to me to be the business of the Spirit of the Lord. I might track in those steps just a little bit, being made in the image, but I cannot make the cow and bear be neighbors. I must not train the cobra to play with my baby. When I try too much, too hard, too fast, harm and ruin fall down on me like desperate rain.
To let things be, accept my part in life’s simple fabric, in silence listen for the words of the Spirit of the Lord, follow them, that might be the secret of leaving well enough alone. This dawns on me often, surprising me, over and over new. And in good time my own earth is filled with the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea.
There’s no sense crying over spilled milk, Lord – there it goes. Drains down into the ground. But then deep within my dual rights of love and forgiveness, I discover regret, remorse, sadness, anger and guilt. These are real, and I am grateful for your permission to work them through, wrestle, wait, to finally be loved and forgiven again. Your peace is deep and strong and always so real.
https://www.davesandel.net/category/advent-and-christmas-devotions-2019/
http://www.christiancounselingservice.com/archive.php?year=2019
