I am stunned by the kind of power we enjoy today. I never imagined a day when I could unlock my phone with my face, see my mom from a different continent, and then order a pie from Lucille’s, arguably the best pizzeria in Harlem (sorry, Patsy’s).
And that’s just the power we carry in our pockets. Nearly all our technological advancement, and our consumption of it, depends on this promise of power. No one is ever going back to a palm pilot, unless of course you are reading this from your AOL account.
Our ability to navigate the world with ease makes us live in an illusion of independence and invincibility. But no matter how much technology we own or access to power we have, before this day is over, we must all confront the limits of our power. To put it more starkly, in the next 24 hours, you and I will find ourselves in a state of complete vulnerability.
We must sleep.
In her book, Prayer in the Night, Tish Harrison Warren writes about how terrifying the night used to be.
“Imagine a world without electric light, a world lit dimly by torch or candle, a world full of shadows lurking with unseen terrors, a world in which no one could be summoned when a thief broke in and no ambulance could be called, a world where wild animals hid in the darkness, where demons and ghosts and other creatures of the night were living possibilities for everyone. This is the context in which the Christian practice of nighttime prayers arose…”1
People confronted their vulnerability every night. They faced danger from robbers, wild beasts, and weather, which not only revealed their weakness, but also led them to depend upon God’s protection. No wonder they thanked him in the morning. Waking must have felt like a miracle.
But are we really that much stronger? No one can argue that deadbolts, alarm systems, and electricity we can manipulate with our fingers makes us feel stronger. But have we actually become stronger? Because at some point today, no matter how determined we are, or how much we resist, we must relinquish. We must let go. We must accept our limits to remain vigilant over ourselves and the ones we love. We must entrust ourselves to Another.
But if, by God’s grace, we survive the night, it is still tragic when the sun wakes our bodies but not our faith to depend on God. When we start the day without any recognition of the total vulnerability we just experienced, and live out of the illusion of our independence, carrying the burdens of our work, relationships, and ministries as if it all depends on us, and not Jesus, who upholds the universe with his word.
The Bible calls us away from our disenchanted world.
It asks:
Who rules the tides and tells them, “This far and no more?”
“You set a boundary that they may not pass, so that they might not again cover the earth.” (Psalm 104:9 ESV)
Who waters the earth every day as if it is his garden?
“From your lofty abode you water the mountains; the earth is satisfied with the fruit of your work.” (Psalm 104:13 ESV)
Who causes the earth to yield its increase, not only to provide food for the animals, but also an opportunity for us to cultivate the earth for our gladness, sustenance, and even lotion for our faces?
“You cause the grass to grow for the livestock and plants for man to cultivate, that he may bring forth food from the earth and wine to gladden the heart of man, oil to make his face shine and bread to strengthen man's heart.” (Psalm 104:14-15 ESV)
We live in an enchanted world where the heavens declare his glory. The sun, moon, and stars in the sky are telling us something. Day after day and night after night, they speak without words. They tell us about the glory of God (Psalm 19:1-6).
And when we receive and hold onto this vision of God’s glory and activity in the world, the vulnerability we feel today is an invitation to depend upon him, just as we did in the night.
Warren, Tish Harrison. Prayer in the Night: For Those Who Work or Watch or Weep (Function). Kindle Edition.