“When shall I attain it?”
Psalm 101:2
For obvious reasons, I have been thinking a lot about the word transition lately. More specifically I have been thinking that the phrase smooth transition is probably an oxymoron. The passages that we make from one place to another are by their very nature disruptive. To leave something behind and venture into something new is a journey that is almost always accompanied by some degree or loss and fear: Loss as we say good bye to what was and fear as we anticipate what we do not yet know.
It was helpful to read the Seattle Times Op/Ed piece by Harry Truman’s grandson last week (Seattle Times, November 22) in which he reminded us of the historical tidbit that the notion of a smooth transition of power from one president to the next is a relatively recent phenomenon. Truman and Eisenhower couldn’t stand each other, but “Give-em Hell Harry” took the initiative to refrain from acting on his nick-name when it came to the matter managing the ending of his administration to make way for the beginning the Eisenhower administration. Prior to this there were apparently some very ugly Presidential transitions. Let’s just say that magnanimity and cordiality have not always been the rule of the day in this area.
Another transition that is not necessarily smooth is the one that we speak of during the birth of a baby. I asked Mary Ann, my birth doula wife, to help me understand what happens during the transition stage of labor and delivery. She told me that transition is the stage where the cervix of the mother’s uterus is fully effaced and dilated to 10 centimeters. Just before this happens is a time of extreme intensity where the mother feels like she can’t go on. Just after transition, she is more present and ready to prepare to push. One stage of labor is over, and another is beginning. The baby’s trip down the birth canal is ready to begin. Smooth is not a word I would use to describe any of this.
The cars on a roller coaster laboriously lunge and click as the chain pulls them ever upward to a pinnacle; for a short time at the top there is that pregnant pause which ends when the force of gravity pulls at the line of cars and the transition of that rapid, winding descent to the bottom begins. Also not smooth.
Yes, things end and things begin. One way to characterize our lives is in terms of the movements we make from one place to the next. But is the place we occupy between those two things merely a passageway? Isn’t it also a place where something is happening? In the long scope of history there are stories of some who have lived their whole lives in a period that we would call a transition. The writer of Hebrews reflects on this idea in chapter 11 of that book. Exploring the stories of many of the great saints who lived by faith he concludes: “All these died in faith without having received the promises, but from a distance they saw and greeted them (Hebrews 11:13).”
In short, there is something more to life than a list of departures from one gate and arrivals at another. There is that matter of simply being where we are. Movement does not cease in this place. It isn’t about merely biding our time as we wait for deliverance into a new thing. In some ways, there is no moment in life that is not a transition. We always only have the present moment and in that brief moment of acknowledging it, we are already moving on to the next thing. We can only be where we are and even where we are is not something we can hang onto for very long.
So, what is it that holds all these moments of transition together? The answer to this question is not a “what” but a “who.” I like the way John Calvin put it: “Every moment has everything to do with the Living God.” The One who made us is with us in every moment letting us know why and for whom we were made. The One who brought us into being is with us in every moment encouraging us to become who he created us to be. Cohesion is found in relationship, relationship with God and with one another.
The writer of the 101st Psalm begins his prayer “I will sing of loyalty and justice, to you, O Lord, will I sing.” In other words, I want to sing of the things that will give me life and help me to bring life to others. Ultimately that song is a song to you, O God. He goes on, “I will study the way that is blameless. When shall I attain it?” I want to walk in a way that blameless, but am I ever going to get there? We all know the answer to that question. Blamelessness is not really in the cards for any of us. In this life, we are not going to arrive at that destination.
Yet while perfection is not within our grasp, something else is firmly in hand. What is certain is that we are in God’s hand. The Source of all loyalty and justice has made space for us in his heart. Every moment is an opportunity to grow in our knowledge of the One who made us and the reason for which we were made.
Our lives are not reduceable to the lists of things that will no doubt one day appear in our obituaries. That series of departures and arrivals will only tell part of the story. The full story is actually much more exciting than the sum of the things on this list. For the adventure of this relationship will deliver up to us a life that is comprised of “abundantly far more all we can ask or imagine.”
Now to him who by the power at work within us
is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine,
to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations,
forever and ever. Amen.
Ephesians 3:20-21
David Rohrer
11/27/2020