“Intervention strategy”
By Rev. Michael Stonhouse
Meditation – Friday, January 7, 2022
Psalm 114 (Forward, p. 70) CEV p. 627
Something that was rather in its infancy when I was a social worker was the practice of putting into place an intentional and well-planning intervention in certain cases where it was felt that an all-hands on deck confrontation might ‘work’ to jolt a person into a consciousness—and hopefully a departure—from a well-rooted addiction. Certainly, from what little I observed, and experienced, it was a very promising technique, at least for some cases.
God, it might be said, is the original interventionalist. All of Biblical history certainly, and of much church history ever since, speaks of the ways that God intervenes in human history, and particularly in the histories and experiences of His people.
Today’s psalm speaks of three instances of this intervention, His parting of the Red (Reed) Sea and the Jordan River, and His provision of water from solid rock in the midst of the Sinai Desert, all of which were rather pivotal in the history of Israel. Much, much more, many more stories of His intervention, could be said from later narratives of its history.
But then, for me at least, this begs a question, namely when does God choose to intervene and when does He not? Is it, to suggest just one plausible explanation, when His people have reached a point of desperation? And what might that point of desperation be? Surely the threat of the rampaging Egyptian army close on the heels of the Hebrew people was such a time. But the crossing of the Jordan River, and the bestowal of water in the desert? Well, maybe. But how about the siege of Jerusalem? God did intervene on one occasion, but not the next. Perhaps it was because God felt that its destruction would provide a much needed ‘wakeup call’.
Or, does God intervene when a particular ‘opportunity’ presents itself? Galatians tells us that God acted in Christ Jesus ‘in the fulness of time’—when the time was right--and certainly a whole constellation of factors were in place to facilitate the Christian mission.
And, then there is the human factor? In almost all of the interventions, whether Biblical or since then that I can think of, there was a necessity of some action on the part of some mortal being, some human. In today’s three instances, Moses had to raise his staff over the Red (Reed) Sea, the priests had to walk into the flooding waters of the Jordan River bearing the Ark of the Covenant and Moses had to strike the rock in the Sinai.
And, even in modern ‘interventions’, such as the Welsh Revival or the revival at Azusa Street or the Charismatic renewal, there were human factors like prayer and fasting and a prolonged and systematic seeking of the Lord.
So, what about us today? Why are there so few obvious instances of God’s intervention in our lives or in our world today? Maybe—this is my own idea—there once again needs to be that sense of desperation, of intense need, and once again that seeking of God in prayer and fasting and waiting upon Him. I would say that our world, our society and nation, and indeed our churches, are in desperate need of this, witness the crime, the despair, the hopelessness, the factionalism, and the breakdown of trust in our established institutions. Yes, I would say that we desperately need God’s intervention once again. But—here is the crunch—are we willing to do what it takes on our parts, to face the hard work of prayer and fasting and simply seeking the Lord and His will. I pray that more of us will be up to that task during this new year and take it on. Amen.
Forward notes: “Who turned the hard rock into a pool of water and flint-stone into a flowing spring” (verse 8).
“Do you remember the first time you saw snow? I was into my twenties when I experienced snow for the first time on a trip to Gallup, New Mexico.
“I always imagined snow to be a powdery substance, something you could toss up and watch fall with utter grace. So, when I first dug my foot into the snow, the crunch took me by surprise. When I stared down, I saw tiny granules of ice reflecting the sun at different angles. It had texture. If I stared at it too long, it hurt. The snow would, at some point, melt into water, recreating rivers, lakes, and puddles of water. I was in awe.
“I didn’t play in the snow that day; I sat on a chair and looked off into the mountains. I stared at all God had made in the desert. All of the earth was alive under my feet, under the snow, in the line of my gaze and beyond.
MOVING FORWARD: “Do you ever sit and marvel at what God has made, despite us? Today, take time to sit in awe and marvel at the world outside of your home, under your feet, in the line of your gaze, and beyond.”
A concluding note: It is quite obvious that the author of today’s Forward Movement meditation is not from the northern states of America or from Canada, the way that she rhapsodizes over her first experience of snow. Most of us who experience it over and over again over the course of long, cold winters, and have done so since we were ‘wee high to a grasshopper’, no longer feel the wonder of snow. But, maybe we should. Sure, it poses great hardship and adversity, but there is also something of wonder there, both in what it is and what it does.
