Making Deals

Making Deals

Admit it. At some point in your life, whether it was a low point, a high point, or maybe just a curious sunny afternoon, you have tried to make some kind of deal with God.

Five or so years ago, I wrangled with God over a young man that I knew, my niece’s husband, who was dying of a rare autoimmune disorder, unexpectedly, in the prime of life. He had three young children and a wife who loved him completely, desperately, and relentlessly.

In one afternoon, I offered it all to Him—everything I could think of. I prayed without ceasing as I wandered around my yard, crying and waiting for updates on Herb’s condition. He was hospitalized…couldn’t breathe…on a ventilator…then, gone.

As I have struggled with the senselessness of his death, I have no more answers than anyone else who loved him, and there were plenty. I have a few maybes. Maybe he had a spirit contract—a pledge he would keep with God that no one else was a part of.

Maybe his years were numbered ahead of time, to thirty-nine and a few months. Maybe it was just an ugly example of the unfairness and sorrow of this world, and for some reason Herb’s family was not spared it.

God didn’t accept my bargaining then.

As I think back on that summer day of tears, pleading, and hopelessness, my sole takeaway from his death has to be that God is good. Anyway. Anywhere. Anyhow.

I couldn’t fathom anything else.

This winter, I went on a desert foray of amateur rockhounding with family. In a light-hearted yet philosophical moment, I said to my Lord, “If you let me find a geode, I will know that you have some special wisdom to impart to me.” Very immature thought process, I know, but I have petitioned him for wisdom repeatedly, and I have very little evidence that He’s given me any.

Another Let’s Make a Deal with God, although the stakes this time were much lower.

Of course I found no geode, and if I had stubbed my toe on one, I doubt I would have even recognized it.

So here is the gist of it: do me a favor, God, show me some grace here, and I’ll…I’ll…well I don’t recall making any promises in return.

That afternoon, instead of the favor I had hoped for, I received a humbling in the form of a “short, half-mile hike” on a rocky mountain path, which left me feeling winded, tired and old, and a little bit left behind by the group I was with.

That’s how God has worked on me through the years: when I get a little cocky and ask for special treats, I get a spanking. That spanking probably did more for my out-of-control soul than a crackerjack prize from God (although I wouldn’t mind getting one of those, either). He dealt with my pride, which happened to be in full bloom at that time, along with the desert cacti.

I’ll probably continue to try to make deals with God, but I must always expect the unexpected. A whammy, perhaps. Because I’ve figured out that God makes the deals, I don’t. With the children of Israel, it was called a covenant, and God made it; they didn’t.

I’m thinking what I have to ask for is the grace to just stop, extend my hand, and say, “It’s a deal; I will.”