“God knows what it takes to make a man”
These were the words spoken by the dear brother who had discipled me in his own home for three years. I had recently moved to England to work, still a relatively young believer, with a difficult new church situation, and more than anything, a lament of my spiritual weakness. I was visiting Ireland for a weekend Bible teaching event and one evening we got to talking. My own weakness in all areas loomed high, while the load compounded by circumstances just piled its way on top. I was not feeling at all like I was progressing spiritually, or fighting for the kingdom like I ought. And it wasn’t long before the tears of lament poured from my eyes.
My brother didn’t offer me any platitudes. He didn’t try to convince me things would work themselves out, he didn’t promise me I’d be victorious, or offer a five step plan to better spirituality. Through the highs and lows, the various wastelands that he had surveyed, he knew that those things were not the answer. No matter how hard we (rightly) try to work out spiritual disciplines and walk according to certain principles, in reality, there is no formula for the Christian life. But there is the deep conviction that the Potter knows what he’s doing with his clay. He knows what it takes to make a man.
A decade on, and I look in the mirror at myself. The wrinkles on my forehead and around my eyes are lines penned over the years in the story God is writing. To open the book is to dive into the eyes that stare back, now deeper than they were ten years ago. The wastelands have never stopped. If anything, they sometimes stretch further into the horizon. The pains of ministry, the hardships of priestly duties in this world, haven’t ceased to deal their blows and leave wounds, some lighter, some deeper. The spiritual battles have been many, and I would tremble to think how many I still carry out in my own strength. How many I still lose.
And yet, somehow, I do know God more. He has drawn me closer. He has fit me for ministry in ways that I didn’t even know I needed. He has taught me weakness in order to show his strength. Somehow, through all the things I wish were different in my life, he has shaped me.
He knows how to make a man.
And maybe more importantly. I usually don’t. I so often try to mould myself and others.
Not that I am now where I wish I that I were. Not by a long shot. But in the words of John Newton, playing off the Apostle’s words:
“I am not what I ought to be, I am not what I want to be, I am not what I hope to be in another world; but still I am not what I once used to be, and by the grace of God I am what I am.”
– John Newton
Over the last thirteen years I have learned that he is good. He is dedicated to my sanctification, far more than I am. And he is more than capable of turning me out the way I will one day be.
As I recalled the above conversation last week, I called to mind two Ebenezers. The first was Ebenezer Scrooge from Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. He encounters the ghost of his ex-business partner Jacob Marley, who was, in life, as miserly as Scrooge, and who is now bound by a long chain made up of money boxes, and account ledgers etc. The exchange goes as follows:
‘ “You are fettered,” said Scrooge, trembling. “Tell me why?”
“I wear the chain I forged in life,” replied the Ghost. “I made it link by link, and yard by yard; I girded it on of my own free will, and of my own free will I wore it. Is its pattern strange to you?” ‘
This is where his hard-hearted actions had taken him. He had, through many small decisions, been brought on a long journey. Links added up to yards, yards added up to long lengths. And this is where it had brought him. A slow journey in a singular direction added up in the end.
The other Ebenezer is the Biblical location, where Samuel raises a stone as a reminder to what God has done and names it Ebenezer. Chapter 4 to chapter 7 of 1 Samuel tell this story of where the stone got its name. It is a story that arises in the midst of a corrupt priesthood, a superstitious people, and a failed army. But it is a story where God steps in to show his power against the enemy, sans human help. Where he demonstrates his utter holiness in the midst of those who would draw near. And where he brings a people, who firstly relied on the ark as a lucky charm, to their knees in acknowledgement that he is Lord, and they need to call out to him for salvation instead.
It is only then that Samuel raises a stone and calls it Ebenezer, saying, “Thus far the Lord has helped us.” And how far it has been. Was it simply a journey of how to win battles? Hardly. The Lord had revealed himself in various moments along the way, bringing the people ona journey of understanding of weakness, and a need for reliance on him.
We have a long way to go. And for better or for worse, life will be made up of a thousand little steps, link by link, yard by yard, forging a chain which tells a story. And what will be the last line of that story? Bound by a chain of our own making, or raising a stone that will stand for eternity saying Thus far the Lord has helped us”. Praise God he knows how to write it the right way.
Dear pilgrim, don’t despair the many long miles, the many weary footsteps. Don’t fret over the circumstances you would otherwise have avoided. Don’t resent that which makes us weak. Cling to the promise that the Lord is out for your good.
And he knows what it takes to make a man (or woman!).
Imitators of Those 
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