Christian Living
FREEDOM TO FAIL
It seems to me that genuine freedom involves the possibility of failure. One cannot expect some person or persons to assume the outcome. It is not surprising given this prospect that some have chosen slavery as a preferable option. If not for an indefinite time, then until the situation seemed more favorable.
Accordingly, “In the desert the whole community grumbled against Moses and Aaron. The Israelites said to them, ‘If only we had died by the Lord’s hand in Egypt! There we sat around pots of meat and ate all the food we wanted, but you have brought us out into the desert to starve this entire assembly to death’” (Exod. 16:2-3).
Initially, we are struck by the fact that the entire community expressed a common concern. Not a few who deviated from the general perception. Such was the pervasive character of the complaint.
This was incited by the seriousness of the situation. The wilderness was a precarious place for humans. As such, it required a cautious approach to circumstances.
Conversely, the wilderness came to have mixed implications. Since God provided for the needs of his chosen people in that context. So that it has continued to be inviting as a place to commune with God, and mature in faith.
Moreover, their effort would not be in vain. A second generation, less intimidated by the prospect of gaining entrance into the promised land, would succeed. Whereupon, a cherished legacy would be passed on from one generation to the next.
This, in turn, recalls times when freedom exposed me to failure. My parental home provided security for me during my youth. Early on, I was restricted to our front yard and the area around our residence. I was not allowed to walk out into the road unless accompanied by an adult. This amounted to a calculated risk.
I left for military service the day after my eighteenth birthday. It was during World War II. I was eventually deployed overseas. My mother had the premonition that I would not return, although she did not share this with me at the time.
My return home following the deployment was especially memorable. World War II lyrics come readily to mind, “Gonna take a sentimental journey, gonna set my mind as ease. Gonna take a sentimental journey, to renew old memories.” It remained to complete my time in the service, since I had no intention of extending it. Even though this would have provided a degree of security unlike negotiating life on my own.
I felt impressed to train for the ministry, and so enrolled in college. The competition was much greater than I had previously experienced. So it was that I determined to put out greater effort to compensate for any personal deficiency. Free to fail, I was likewise free to succeed.
Fast forward. The time came when I was scheduled to serve a short term teaching assignment in Nigeria. I had as a child thought that if there were a God, he would likely have a task for me. The mission field seemed a likely option, and Africa especially came to mind. Now, at long last, that which I had imagined was coming to pass.
This was well outside my comfort zone. I arrived at the mission compound during the evening. After being warmly welcomed, I was taken to the cabin which would serve as my residence. The generator was turned off, as was the custom, to conserve energy. A single oil lamp provided the only light within my abode. It, however, attracted an assortment of insects. So that I soon turned in for the night.
Only then to become aware of strange noises, quite unlike those associated with an urban environ to which I had become accustomed. At one point, it sounded as if some wild beast was making its approach. I peered out into the darkness, but could make out only the dim outline of the foliage.
Shortly thereafter, I heard the sound of gunfire in the distance. This was obviously not reassuring. The next morning I learned that this was a common practice, meant to drive away troublesome spirits who roamed in the darkness. This further raised the question as to how well I would succeed in this unfamiliar environ.
As it turned out, seventeen of my former Nigerian students subsequently matriculated to the college where I was employed for their graduate training. This, in turn, recalls one of them observing: “When I think of you, it is as if you were a Nigerian rather than an American.” We had thus bonded together. Something that would not have been possible except for the fact that freedom entertains the possibility of failure.
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