God Has Been Teaching Me about Giants

Several weeks ago, the sermon series at my church brought us to the account of Moses sending 12 spies into Canaan (Numbers 13, 14). Despite the bright promise of overflowing milk and honey, not to mention the flawless history of God”s provision for his people, the majority of this party chose to dwell on the negative: there were giants in the land.

Two weeks later I was seated on an airplane next to a friendly gentleman. I discovered he was a dentist and a member of a Methodist church. We talked about the changes we both have seen in the area of Sunday worship. We discussed our varying degrees of overseas travel. Then he took a small, shiny rock out of his pocket, and asked where this particular object could be found in the Bible.

As I tried to remember all of the biblical rock metaphors, he added, “First Samuel.” “One smooth stone,” I said. He recounted how, on a trip to Israel, he had talked a tour guide into taking him to the Valley of Elah, where he carefully chose this remembrance. Then he looked at me seriously and said, “There are still Goliaths in the world today.”

Fast-forward six weeks in the same sermon series, but with a different preacher. We were now in 2 Samuel 11, the record of David”s greatest shame. But we were reminded David had once been willing to face a giant in the name of God. On that day I wrote in my bulletin, “What are you afraid of?”

(I probably should apologize to preachers for the hundreds of times that the main point I took in from their sermon was not the one they intended to make; please know that I was listening””your voice was a conduit for another voice.)

I offer these vignettes because they highlight the manner in which the Bible often speaks to me. My day-to-day life is impacted by the depth, breadth, and wisdom that is always available through this living, breathing witness to God”s work. The characters in this Book are not lifeless people on a page, but heroes of the faith, whose stories give me hope and courage. Their message is timeless.

For me, familiarity with the Word has been building since the earliest days in my grandmother”s Sunday school class: flannelgraphs, memory work, and song lyrics forever embedded in my memory banks; photographs cut from magazines that just might be useful in telling a story or preparing a craft for my mother”s Whirlybirds class; gospel maps, exegesis, and lectures in Bible college; endless hours of preparation for my own lectures, worship gatherings, and speeches; searching Scripture for comfort, encouragement, or wisdom.

The Bible, while not always in my hand, is never far from my heart.

Without the living Word of God, how would I know him? My finite grasp of his character would be devoid of history, examples, metaphors, exhortation, and promise. How would I have handled my father”s death at the young age of 52, were it not for the image of a group of women discovering an empty tomb? How would I have taken a gigantic leap of faith by moving, as a fresh-out-of-college 22-year-old, to the unknown culture and climate that is Texas, were it not for the obedience of Abraham? How could I have trusted God in days of empty bank accounts were it not for the lesson of the sparrow? How could I find forgiveness for my egregious sin were it not for David”s outpouring of grief in Psalm 51, or make sense of tornadoes, tsunamis, and terrorist attacks, if I could not hear the despair of the lament psalms? How could I possibly be a productive member or leader of Christ”s church apart from exposure to the life and letters of the apostle Paul? How would I know when God is trying to tell me something?

As for my two-month interaction with God”s Word described above, you should know that I have been called to a formidable task right now and could easily be afraid, and that I often feel helpless, like the ten spies, and unworthy, like David. But I know that two men, Joshua and Caleb, trusted God and were allowed to enter the promised land. I know that “one little stone went up in the air and the giant came tumbling down.” I know the end of the story. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go face some giants.

Dinelle Frankland is professor of worship at Lincoln (Illinois) Christian Seminary and author of What the Bible Says about Worship: His Story, Our Response (College Press).