" I Did Reluctantly Choose to Sing"

"Robert died of a disease that ravaged his body and his mind. I have Rachel’s permission to share with you parts of her letter. Two or three details have been altered to mask her identity, but the words are all hers, very lightly edited to ensure coherence. At this point in her letter she is talking about singing along, with her children, the songs live-streamed from her church:

    These songs are moving to me, especially “The Perfect Wisdom of Our God.” I picked it for Robert’s funeral because of the last verse:

           Each strand of sorrow has a place

           Within this tapestry of grace.

           So through the trials I choose to say,

           “Your perfect will in your perfect way.”

    As Robert was losing his health and his mind, I had about five big reasons why this did not seem remotely perfect. I can remember saying to Robert’s co-pastor that I was choking on the words. But at my lowest point I did reluctantly and sulkily choose to sing them. The significant thing wasn’t whether or not I was sulky. The significant thing was that I did actually sing them, declaring my faith in God and his big picture—my faith in him.…

    In terms of “moral goodness” (if there is such a thing), I think I’m pretty average. Or maybe I’m being generous to myself: I’m prone to being too carefree and selfish, given to extremes and self-indulgence. But I am often able to show commitment and kindness and integrity. So yeah, average, really, on crude terms.

    But I do feel marked out. I am marked out! And I’m convinced that what marks me out is where I choose to put my faith.

    That’s all!

    I believe myself to be constantly and undeservedly blessed, disproportionately upheld and provided for, unexpectedly finding myself surrounded by joy, peace, hope, love, wonderful people and uplifting children. My life has been rescued and redeemed over and over again despite my relentless failures and flaws. I have a genuine sense of “Why me?” in a good way.

    “Your perfect will in your perfect way”: I know where to place my faith. That’s my privilege. That’s the gift given me. I have been known to meander and drift and goof up in both trivial and profound ways, but in the end I always come back to the right place, to the right person—the only person. Brother, Friend, Redeemer, Deliverer, King, Lord, Bridegroom, Father, Savior, Creator. I have been able to trust God with my “strands of sorrow.” I am under his wings and always will be.

    That’s all!

    In a way, it’s so unfair that I should be able to recognize Jesus for who he is when so many other people whom I respect and love don’t seem to either want to or be able to. I hear his voice and I just know he’s the Good Shepherd. To me, it’s a no-brainer. Faith is a gift, but it’s a free gift, and there are no exams to pass or morality assessments.

    Our “strands of sorrow” are only a millimeter long on the rope disappearing off into the horizon where Robert invested his life. He taught and lived and died this “perfect wisdom.” [1]

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1. Carson, D. A. (2020). I’m so Grateful that I’m among the Elect. Themelios, 45(3), 484–485.