by Sarah Van Diest @SarahVanDiest
Educated as a teacher, Sarah taught school for nearly 20 years. As a young woman, she lived in China amid the rice paddies and water buffalo near Changsha, and then later taught English in Costa Rica for four years and raised her two sons.
We know
this to be true. When we stop breathing, we stop living. There is no life when
breath is absent.
It’s
allergy season here in Oregon, and other places, too, I’m sure. And because
this winter was Portland’s wettest on record, there is now no shortage of
growing, blooming things.
An afternoon doing simple gardening can turn into a
night of sneezes and snores. Last night was a perfect example.
You know
you are truly stuffed up when even breathing through your mouth becomes
difficult. I shall spare you the unpleasant details, but suffice it to say I
was overrun with my body’s opinion of how I had spent my day. I suppose it was
trying to wash away all evidence of my afternoon’s activities in the great
outdoors.
As I tried
to relax into sleep, attempting to ignore the struggle to breathe, I was
compelled to surrender to the truth that mind-over-matter just wasn’t going to
make it better. Believing you can breathe because you wish it doesn’t shrink
the membranes in your nasal passages!
It was
time to take action.
Following
a dead-of-night failed attempt at using my Costco “netty pot,” I turned to a
chemical solution. I don’t like taking medicine. I don’t like feeling drugged.
But more than that, I like breathing.
So, I drank those wonderful two tablespoons of colored syrup and was breathing
and asleep in 40 minutes. (Weird dreams and all, it was a decent night’s
sleep.)
Maybe
because of the medicine or maybe because I was just that tired of not getting
to breathe, I drifted off thinking about the passage in Ezekiel where God
breathed life into the lifeless.
In Ezekiel
37, God brings Ezekiel to a valley full of bones, dry bones. In other words, there is no longer flesh attached to
these bones, no hearts still caged in the ribs, no muscles or tendons or skin—just
bones tossed into a valley like trash. But God asks Ezekiel if these bones will
live again and tells him to prophesy saying:
Then he said to me,
“Prophesy to these bones and say to them, ‘Dry bones, hear the word of the Lord! 5 This is what the Sovereign Lord says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will
come to life. 6 I will attach tendons
to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin; I will put breath
in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the Lord.’”
In
the vision, those dry bones assembled,
rattling and making noise, then tendons and flesh covered them, but still they
had no life. God told Ezekiel to speak to breath itself and tell the four winds
to come to the bodies and breathe life into them. So when breath came to them,
they all stood up, as a great army, full of life.
The
vision was for Israel describing their sad state of hopelessness. They were
lost and scattered, their faith shattered and dry. But God came to them through
the prophet Ezekiel and gave them this hope of life through his spirit. His
spirit would breathe new life into their nation, his people.
The
story of Israel is one we relate to. Their path is not unlike our own. There
are times of great joy in obedience and relationship with God, and times of
deep sorrow and shame in rebellion and waywardness. Sound familiar? And what
was true for Israel in their lost-ness, is true of us. Our Father seeks us out,
faithfully, and offers new life through his spirit, no matter how dead we
believe we are. We can live again. Our faithlessness is never incurable.
I
love the repetitious talk about breath in this passage. When God tells Ezekiel
how to prophesy, he tells him twice how his breath will come into the dry bones
and cause them to live again:
“I will make breath enter you, and you will
come to life. 6 I
will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with
skin; I will put breath in you, and you will come to life.”
And then
when the prophecy is made and the bones come together, and flesh covers them,
breath has to be called out again to
fill them and bring life. This kind of repetition is about emphasis, a way to
bring attention to something. When we see that in Scripture, we ask why.
The answer
is in the text.
I think it
is noteworthy to mention that God speaks directly to the bones calling them
“you,” recognizing perhaps their potential, addressing them with a sense of
humanity even without life in them yet. He sees value and worth in what had
been cast into a valley as garbage, useless and lifeless. God’s eyes see with
much more graciousness than my own, though I think he simply sees what he sees.
Then God
causes the bones to assemble, and for muscle, sinew and flesh to cover them so
that the bones now look like bodies, but he stops short of filling them with
life just yet. —Does that picture resonate with you as it does with me? We can
pull ourselves together and fully look the part, but have no life in us, for
there is not life apart from God. It is God who gives life, not our bodies. It
is God who gives life, not ourselves.
The reason
God gave for why he did things this way is this, “…and you will know that I am
the Lord.”
God is
life, and he wants us to know he is the source of all life. He gives breath to
our bodies and hope to our hearts. All that lives relies on him for life and
even for each and every breath. There is a tremendous sense of awe that comes
when we recognize this truth. And God desires that we do recognize this. I
believe it is more than just a desire of his that we praise him, though it
brings him joy to hear our praise, but I also believe he knows it is best for
us when we know and remember he is our source of life.
There is
something right about the “created”
knowing and remembering what it is and where it came from. There is a profound
understand of worth embedded in the idea of being created intentionally.
Forgetting that we were made, and made very much on purpose, leads to the
ultimate conclusion that we were instead just some happy (or not so happy)
accident. There is little value intrinsic to an accident.
So, today,
as you go about your life, breathe deeply. Remember the source of each breath,
and know that he seeks you out even when your bones are dry and you have
forgotten your sense of value. And praise the Father for the life he has given
you.
TWEETABLE
Sarah is married for the second time, the mother of 2 boys and the step-mother to 3 more. She and her husband, David, work together in their agency The Van Diest Literary Agency. Her full name is Sarah Ruth Gerke Van Diest. She’s 5’5” and cuts her hair when stress overtakes her.
She is a freelance editor (including a New York Times and USA Today bestseller), blogger (The Write Conversation) and writer for hire. Her first book releases with NavPress in 2018.
A great reminder that no matter how much WE do, it's still HIS touch that is most important.
ReplyDeleteAmen, Molly Jo! Thank you and many blessings to you!
DeleteSarah
Yes, yes, and amen! Thank you for this awe-inspiring reminder, Sarah. Your grounded perspective rings fresh in this sometimes weary soul. When I see your name here, I know I'll never be quite the same again.
ReplyDeleteP.S. As a fellow allergy sufferer (3 shots a week) I would love you to PM me the name of the colored syrup!
You are such an encourager, Cathy! Thank you for your kind words!
DeleteI will send you a Facebook PM about the colored syrup!
Blessings, sweet lady! And may you sneeze very few times today!
Sarah
As one dealing with asthma, I take breathing very seriously. ☺ I enjoyed the good thought and reminder...
ReplyDeleteOh my. Yes, breath is so important!!! Blessings, sweet lady!
ReplyDelete