Tag: providence

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Connecting the Dots

By Amy Spiegel

Several years ago, the Spiegel family spread out across multiple countries and continents in an unprecedented flurry of world travel. Jim was in Greece, Bailey in Israel, and Sam was in Bolivia while Maggie, Andrew and I kept the home fires burning back in Indiana. Multiple times a day, I would pull up our family chat and check the location of my family members. I got a rush of joy and a feeling of connecting to my far-flung husband and offspring as I watched them move jerkily across the screen like a technological version of the Marauders Map from Harry Potter. I am not sure that I could solemnly swear I was up to no good, but I did develop a terrible addiction. I became a “location dot” addict.

Something about seeing this tiny dot, so far away, made me feel closer to them. When everyone came home, I started checking to see if they had left soccer practice and were on their way home for dinner. Or if they were cutting it close for curfew. Now that we are quasi-empty nesters, I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and double-check that they have all made it home safe and sound. Ironically, my mom has started doing the same to me. I get texts from her saying, “Are you working from home today?” or “Traffic bad? Why are you stopped in the middle of the interstate?”

I recently learned this is a “thing.” When referring to my locations addiction at work, a male co-worker said, “What is it with women and dots?” Until he asked, I didn’t realize there was a thing with women and their dots. I thought it was just me.

If this is, in fact, a female phenomenon, I imagine there is more than one answer to that question. Typically, women are “running the show” when it comes to the family schedule, coordinating drop-offs and pick-ups, mealtimes and bedtimes, invites, and events. So it makes sense that they would look for a “leg up” in keeping all their family ducks in a row. I will confess to sending an innocently worded “Almost home?” which, given the location of the recipient, could also have read “Why haven’t you left yet?” Entirely a truthful reflection of my knowledge of their whereabouts? No. Highly effective way to both avoid an argument and get them to hightail it home? Heck yeah.

But beyond the convenience as a tool of the homemaker, I think there is something deeper, more visceral that calls to our maternal nature when we seek to “find my.” If you aren’t an Apple user, “Find My” is the app for Mac users to find their devices, items (e.g., air-tagged car keys, etc.) and people. Perhaps it is a stretch, but this app presents women with a temptation eerily similar to that first forbidden fruit of Eden. Tempted by Satan to disobey God, Eve was told that in doing so, “your eyes will be opened and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” (Genesis 3:5) What Satan predicted came true, Eve’s eyes were opened and she did gain the knowledge of good and evil, but she, along with all the women that followed, sure paid the price. Her relationship with God, Adam, and all of nature, even her own body, was irrevocably altered for the worse. The blessing of womanhood, our beauty, frailty, and unique reproductive role was turned against us in God’s curse and its devastating consequences.

Now I am fairly certain that I do not fall under God’s judgment each time I reach out and check my family’s locations. And I seriously doubt they are struggling under the burden of His wrath because I like to know where they are. But I do think there is a clear connection between Eve’s failure and my own obsession, both are rooted in a lack of trust and a longing for control. Eve didn’t want to obey; she wanted to rule. I don’t just want to know; I want to control. Somehow, I have convinced myself, however subconsciously, that by knowing where they are, I am protecting those I love. As if by knowing where they are, I am watching over them as well. But I am not, because I am not God. Only He can protect. Only He is in control. He not only knows how to find us, He knows how to bring us home. I am just an observer of dots. He is the one connecting us all.

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What Might Be or Could Have Been: Thoughts on Anxiety, Faith, and Providence

By Jim Spiegel

Several weeks ago a young friend of our family—I’ll call her Lisa—choked on a grape and required assistance in order to clear her windpipe and regain the ability to breathe. Once the grape was dislodged she was fine, and no medical attention was needed. However, understandably, Lisa was very shaken up by the incident, as were her parents.

In the days that followed, their entire family was prompted to some deep reflection about Lisa’s brush with death and the tragedy that was averted. As good friends of the family, we too reflected on the horrible “would could have been.” Eventually, this thought occurred to me: It was never God’s intention for Lisa to die that day, as is obvious from the fact that she did not die. In fact, from the standpoint of divine providence, it wasn’t even close. From our finite human perspective, yes, it seemed like “a close call.” But with God there are no close calls. There are just two categories: what he ordains and figments of our own imaginations.

A question for us, then, is whether we will let our imaginations cause us anxiety and fear.

Regarding the past, we may experience anxiety as we either regret or cringe over “close calls.” “If only I had done X, then situation Y would not have occurred.” Here we let our failure or oversight haunt us indefinitely. Or we may think, “if I had not done X, then this horrible thing would have happened. Oh no—I might not be so lucky next time!” In that case, we displace a positive turn of events with anxiety over a bad thing that nearly happened but didn’t.

And regarding the future, we worry over what might happen. “What if X happens, then Y or Z follows, which would be terrible!” Here we are allowing another kind of figment of our imagination to torment us. If it never happens, then we burden ourselves with something completely fictional. We are victims of our own psychological self-torture.

But, we may rationalize, doesn’t worry at least serve the positive function of preparing us for circumstances that will eventually come to pass? Well, not usually. This recent study showed that over 91% of the things we worry about never come true. And in the cases of many people, 100% of the things they dreaded never came to pass. This seems to suggest that worrying really is a waste of time and mental energy.

In all such cases, we choose to live in the subjunctive mood rather than reality. And we pay a costly price: peace of mind.

Of course, worry is a universal human experience. We all struggle with anxiety about the past and the future. The only differences among us is how much we do this.

In his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus addressed the problem, saying, “Do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?” (Mt. 6:25). And his disciple Peter would later say, “cast all your anxiety on the Lord, because he cares for you” (1 Pet. 5:7).

These and other biblical admonitions seem to suggest that worry is under our control. As Kant’s dictum goes, “ought implies can.” That is, if there is a duty to do X, then we must be capable of doing X. If Scripture tells us to cast our anxiety on the Lord, then it must be possible to do this. But how?

I wish I had a simple formula, but I don’t. Prayer is an obvious starting point. Perhaps it’s also the ending point. And all the points in between. Also, I believe consciously leaning on the fact of divine providence is critical. If God really is in ultimate control of all that happens and “all the days ordained for me were written in [His] book before one of them came to be” (Ps. 139:16), then there is no reality beyond what he stipulates. I have found that serious meditation on this fact can be a powerful mental salve.

What could be or what would be (logical possibilities and causal counterfactuals) may be worth our attention for the sake of contingency planning. But we are wise to fight against the temptation to obsess over them. And it is the fight of a lifetime, since the temptation to worry is among the most persistent of all temptations in human experience.

So, in the end, like all temptations, worry is a test of faith. How much do we really trust God’s power, love, and faithfulness?

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Unplanned Parenthood

By Jim Spiegel

Seeing as yesterday was my mom’s birthday and today is the 50th anniversary of the notorious Roe v. Wade decision, I thought I would share a few stories that both affirm the sanctity of human life and honor my late mother, Phyllis Moore Spiegel.

When my mom became pregnant with me, she was already the busy mother of three boys and thirty-six years of age. Although my parents were not planning to have a fourth child, they didn’t exactly take a rigorous approach in trying to prevent this, as they later informed me that at the time they were using a rather unreliable spermicide contraceptive. When my mom discovered she was pregnant, she was somewhat apprehensive because, being in her late thirties, she thought of herself as too old to have another child. At some point she shared her concern with her dad who responded by offering to pay for an abortion. My mom obviously declined the offer, essentially telling my grandfather that just because she felt anxious about being an older new mother (at least relative to those days), she had no thoughts of terminating the pregnancy. In fact, she was disturbed by the very suggestion.

Still, my mom continued to struggle with anxiety about having another kid at her age. This continued even after I was born and wasn’t put to rest until she heard some wise words from our pediatrician, Dr. Stopman. One day when she took me in for a check-up, Dr. Stopman asked her how she was doing and my mom shared her concerns with him, saying “I was sitting there in the waiting room, looking around at all those young mothers, and I just feel like I’m too old to be doing this again.” Dr. Stopman looked at my mom and, pointing at me, he said, “he doesn’t think you’re too old.” My mom would later say that after this she never thought about it again. And Dr. Stopman was right. Never once did I think of my mother as “old,” even when she was in her 90s. She was always just my mom—my insightful, kind, good-humored, sometimes curiously enigmatic mom. She remains one of the two most interesting women I’ve ever known. (I’m married to the other one.)

One day when my grandfather was visiting our house a few years later, my mother noticed him pensively staring out the window at me as I was romping around in the backyard. My mom asked him what was on his mind, and he replied, “I look at Jimmy playing and I just feel horrible about the offer I made you to get an abortion.” With the frank honesty that was so typical of Phyllis Spiegel, my mom replied, “Well, Dad, you should feel horrible about it. And you know what? I should have taken your money and used it to pay for a good trip somewhere.” My grandfather smiled and said, “You’re right, honey. That would have served me right.”

As I have reflected on these stories over the years, I have been struck by the profound impact that a simple conversation can have, deciding the direction—or even the existence of—an entire life. I also contemplate the fact that although, from a human perspective, the fate of any one of us might seem uncertain at times, we are all securely in the hands of God—from the moment of our conception until the day we depart this world. As the Psalmist says, “My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be” (Ps. 139:15-16).

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Lessons from the ER

By Amy Spiegel

Many of you know that a week ago yesterday, Jim had a strange and frightening “episode.” It began with his failure to remember the storyline of a Sherlock episode we had watched the night before (hardly unusual) and ended with an overnight hospital stay and an alphabet soup of tests. Final diagnosis? Transient Global Amnesia. Bottom line? Scariest day of my life ends with the assurance that Jim is healthy as a horse and will completely recover.

Jim wasn’t the only one to get a check-up that day. While his brain was getting poked and prodded by doctors and nurses, my heart was getting a good workup from the Holy Spirit. Nothing like a crisis to test your faith in your espoused theology. Feeling helpless in the face of the unknown taught me, or rather reminded me of, some important lessons that I hope to remember in the little moments of every day life as well as the big moments of crisis.

So here are some of the things I learned through our experience:

1) Remember that we are guaranteed nothing in this world. As I drove Jim to the hospital, I feared for the life of the man who ranks just below Jesus on my list of essentials to my well-being. In between answering his repeating loop of questions, I was pleading with God for his mind to be protected from whatever was happening. While doing so, I thought of all the people who have done the same thing, who have pleaded for protection, for healing, for restoration…only to be denied. Not unheard. Not unanswered. But denied. I never doubted that God was listening, only that He might have a different plan from mine.

I was reminded that my plans are not guaranteed but God’s are absolute. The day I had envisioned—running to the library, exchanging pants at Target, maybe a quick bite at Chick-Fil-A—never existed. But the day God had planned—rushing to the ER, frantically calling family and friends, waiting for answers—that day had been mapped out for all eternity. God’s day was a perfect day. A perfect day for displaying His ultimate will for Jim and for me and for the universe. Easy to say when the day ended on a happy note, but it is as true in grief as in rejoicing. God is our only guarantee.

2) Carefully consider the words you choose; they could be your last. One of the things I clung to during that day was the last conversation Jim and I had before everything went loopy. I was telling him how much I loved him and how thankful I was for having him in my life. Of course, now he doesn’t remember that I said all those nice things but I do. I kept thinking of how many times he walked out the door to a hurried good-bye or some nagging comment about not forgetting the milk. I know that if something happened to him or me on one of those less than stellar farewell days, Jim would still know how much I love him. Still, I had peace in knowing that, at least on this day, I had done well. Our words hold great power and we should always use them with care.

3) Maintain a deep appreciation for the community in which you live. The Spiegels are profoundly fortunate in our community. Not only does Jim work in the midst of deeply committed brothers and sisters in Christ, but we are a part of an immensely loving and supportive church body. As if that isn’t enough, we have great neighbors as well as a family that stays close despite the distance of miles. I knew all I had to do was call and bam—the kids would be cared for, emails would be sent, meals would be provided, and, most importantly, prayers would be offered.

While we have certainly been planted in green pastures, I told Jim afterwards that the love and care we received was, in part, a reflection of the love and care he had given. He had cultivated those relationships through time and sacrifice and it came back to us ten-fold. Cultivate your pastures whether they are green or stony. God will bless your efforts.

4) When people ask you to pray for something, no matter how big or small, do it. It would be easy for us to say “Well, Jim’s condition, while scary and disconcerting, was never serious. Those hundreds of prayers on his behalf were wasted on a benign disorder.” Poppycock! Our God, who is not limited by space or time, heard those prayers before the creation of the world. He ordained them for Jim’s benefit and no one will convince me otherwise. So thank you, to all those who lifted our family up. May we have the privilege of doing the same for you one day. God bless and keep you all.

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Thoughts on Providence and Hell

By Jim Spiegel

I hold to a high view of providence—what is sometimes called the “Augustinian” perspective.  This is essentially the view that God actively governs the entire cosmos, including human beings.  The Augustinian view jives well with the Calvinist doctrine of salvation, which I also espouse, but it is much broader than this, affirming that everything that happens in history is somehow part of the divine plan.  The Augustinian view of providence is strongly affirmed in the Westminster Confession of Faith, which declares that God ordains all things that come to pass.

This is a hard teaching, and frankly I can see why many Christians reject it.  The two principal objections to the Augustinian view appeal to human freedom and the problem of evil.  And between these two, the latter seems to me to be the stronger objection by far.  How could God ordain such terrible evils as the Holocaust or that a small child should suffer from a brain tumor?  Good questions indeed, and I certainly feel their force.

My wife, Amy, is also an Augustinian when it comes to providence.  (I distinctly recall when I first learned that this was her view.  It was early in our dating relationship, and this revelation, combined with her usual thoughtful articulation of her perspective, floored me.  Like so many other issues, she arrived at the same conclusion as I, but via a more intuitive path than my more logical-theoretical approach.  This was probably the clincher for me—when I knew I was falling for her.  Or was it when she turned me on to the band Cake?  Hmm…  Anyway, I digress.)  Recently, Amy had a long discussion with a friend about providence, and naturally, her friend posed the objection from evil, specifically challenging Amy to explain why God would allow a little child to have cancer.  Amy responded by noting that God does everything he does for greater goods, such as to glorify himself and bless others.  And sometimes this involves or even requires intense suffering.  And if God can bring greater goods through the crucifixion of Jesus, which is the worst evil in history, then why can’t he bring greater goods through lesser, though still horrific, evils, such as cancer?  Amy’s friend was not convinced, and they went on to discuss other things.

Later, when recounting their conversation, Amy noted how this same friend of hers affirms the traditional view of hell, known as the doctrine of “eternal conscious torment.”  This is the view that those who are condemned to hell suffer eternally.  Not only are the pains of hell unspeakably intense, but they last forever, according to this view.  One of the many reasons that Amy and I reject this doctrine (in addition to the fact that it is not biblical) is that such endless suffering constitutes infiniteevil for which there is no redemption or sufficiently greater good.  (Traditionalists, of course, argue that the greater good is that it demonstrates the justice of God.  But how can infinite punishment for finite sins be just?  In case you were wondering, we affirm “conditional immortalism,” the view that the damned are eventually annihilated in hell and that only those in Christ live eternally.)  Ironically, many of these traditionalists who believe God tortures the damned forever in hell are the same people who reject the high view of providence because it implicates God in our finite suffering here on Earth.  As Amy put it, some people can’t accept a God who allows cancer but they glibly confess that he allows infinite suffering in hell. 

I suppose part of the explanation for this inconsistency lies in the fact that all (or most) of us have known cancer victims and have witnessed its awful ravages.  None of us, however, have personally witnessed the horrors of hell.  So, in the end, the problem is that of an existential gap.  It’s easier to understand or appreciate what one has experienced than what one has not experienced.  And it often takes tremendous effort to close this gap.  When it comes to comparing the sufferings of the damned and suffering in this life, I suppose that gap could never truly be closed.  We just can’t imagine the pains of hell, while the suffering we witness here among friends and family is all too real and, at times, overwhelming.  But we can always do better to put these things into proper perspective, and if we do so, I believe it will help us to better formulate our views on the doctrines of providence and hell, among other issues.