As part of my daily discipline, I have been reading through the Bible in a year. Currently, I am well into Ecclesiastes, and have just begun 1 Chronicles. The program I am following has me reading a wisdom/poetry book, and either an Old or New Testament book.
Two very separate thoughts collided today. Ecclesiastes keeps reiterating that all is meaningless, good and evil, wisdom and folly. That within the confines of mortal life, every creature on earth suffers the same end, and the work they have done is forgotten.
1 Chronicles begins with a long list of names, a genealogy from Adam until the writer’s time. Chapter 4 contains the “Prayer of Jabez”, a cry to God for an increase in territory, God’s hand to be on Jabez, and to be kept safe from all pain and harm. This prayer has received a fair amount of press in Christian circles thanks to a book by Bruce Wilkinson.
The juxtaposition of these two readings intrigues me. Both seem very focused on the four-score-and-ten existence that we are given on this earth, without drawing any real conclusion for the reason behind it all.
The long list of names found in 1 Chronicles is one of those passages in the Bible that I find myself skimming over quickly. Many of the names mean nothing to me. I have no information of what they did beyond being a stepping-stone to an important character in God’s narrative. And yet they were each real people, with real lives, and real struggles and triumphs. Just like me. (Only I think many of them lived in a tent. I am very grateful to not live in a tent.)
In their time here on earth, all that we know of many of them is the name(s) of their children. We are told nothing about their individual gifts, careers, passions, hobbies, favorite foods, quirky habits – all those things on which we focus our relationships. Yet they are named in God’s word, and therefore must have lived lives of some kind of import.
Our culture is consumed with fame. While I believe there has always been some of this – we do have histories and legacies left by significant people, mostly preserved in written word – there seems an unholy desire in our time to be known. People bare their very souls on television, to millions of enthralled viewers on a regular basis. We don’t see just the good whitewashed exteriors, but revel in the dirty awful corners of people’s lives. Misery loves company. And frequently gives us a sense of superiority.
I think humans have always wanted to be known. I think we are wired to be known. And like all good things of God, man has perverted that desire. What I believe we are wired for is to be known by God. We desire relationship, and intimacy, and purpose. We just misplace where we seek these things and grasp at them anyway we can.
But nothing is new under the sun, the writer of Ecclesiastes tells me. So neither is this search for meaning. There is an incompleteness in us that longs for, passionately, purpose.
I recognize it in myself. I vacillate between knowing that what I do matters, and feeling like none of it does. Like I am walking in the will of God, and that it is never enough. That I am in relationship with God and others, and that I am totally alone. That I want my life to have lasting purpose and meaning, and feeling like I live in vain. The sheer insecurity of my existence brings me dis-ease and confusion. Some days I live in the confidence and security of knowing I have a Creator that has a purpose for my life, and other days cry out like the Ecclesiastical writer that all is “meaningless.”
So what do I do with all that? How do I live my life with that constant tension between “it’s all good” and “what’s the point?”
I don’t know.
I have theories.
I could condense it all into a pat little answer that all I need is Jesus. Which is true. All I really need is Jesus. As the old spiritual says, “You can have all the rest, give me Jesus.” I know this is true. I cling to this with all my might. This is what I seek after.
But really, sometimes it is hard. Sometimes I let go of that life-ring and forget. It’s a good thing Jesus doesn’t forget and holds on when I don’t and start floundering. For those times when I’m not walking on water, but sinking fast.
What is particularly odd to me is that in the difficult times it is easy for me to cling to the life-ring. Why is so hard in the everyday living in the land of milk and honey?
Which brings me to Jabez. Jabez prays for three things: to have an increase in territory, to have God’s hand of protection, and to be safe from pain and harm. This prayer comes in the midst of the long list of genealogy, and we know nothing about Jabez except that he was more honorable than his brothers, his mother bore him in pain, and that God granted his request. I couldn’t even figure out precisely where he fit in the genealogy, but I am also not a biblical scholar. This passage appears as a complete non sequitur.
Why is it there? There has been a movement to grabbing hold of this prayer and making it our own, which has received both good and bad press. That is not my focus – if you google it you will find plenty of arguments for both sides of the equation.
What strikes me about Jabez is that he has the audacity, the courage, to ask for exactly what he wants. It is simple, and it is direct, and it is with purpose. If we read between the lines, (and even within them) Jabez was a man who walked with God. Who was in relationship somehow with God. He states his desire openly to God, and in the answer receives not only what he asked for but also a meaning or purpose for his life. Nowhere in the text does it say that if we pray this prayer, it will give meaning or purpose to our lives. This one is for Jabez.
I would love to know what Jabez did when his prayer was answered. What was his response in the land of milk and honey. Did he find meaning and purpose in the answer, in how his life played out post-prayer?
We don’t know. The Bible is curiously silent on that topic.
I think we can infer from this prayer that if we ask for meaning and purpose from God, it will be granted, because by our sheer existence we serve a purpose in God’s great plan. Because of our redemption through Jesus (give me Jesus), the purpose is being served. The purpose may not be fame or notoriety. We may be one of those quiet in-between names that are skimmed over in history. Probably we are. But that doesn’t make us any less important in the great narrative. Our name is there for a reason, EVEN IF WE DON’T SEE IT.
Maybe that is our problem. For the first time in history, we have the time to spend navel-gazing. We have the time to be all-consumed with our own purpose and our own importance and so we actually miss what that is. The Teacher of Ecclesiastes comes to this conclusion: Remember your Creator. Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man. This is our purpose. What or how we do this is less important. Our purpose is to, however we do it, to follow after God.
