“The waters flooded the earth for a hundred and fifty days. But God remembered Noah and all the wild animals and the livestock that were with him in the ark, and He sent a wind over the earth, and the waters receded.” (Genesis 7:24-8:1 NIV)
We want resolution, don’t we?
We live in what I affectionately call a postage stamp parsonage and for the very first time in my life, I’m enjoying the new appliances that came with it. The clothes dryer especially pleases me because when it’s done, it plays a twenty-second tune. It drives my husband nuts and when he threatens to change the setting I remind him that laundry is a chore and if a pleasant tune makes it less dreary, it’s a good blessing, not an annoyance.
The odd thing about this little dryer ditty, though, is that it ends unresolved. The tinny tune is highly hummable until the final measure; it simply cuts off a note short, catching the attention of any listener. Our poor musician son practically climbs the walls when he visits, a couple years of music theory makes an unresolved note nothing short of melodic torture.
I’ve reasoned that the song is left undone on purpose. It’s intentionally designed to move the audience to action: “Hey, the laundry is done! Don’t let it get wrinkly!” But today I believe there’s a spiritual lesson in it’s tension, too.
Let’s look at Noah. We think we are familiar with the story until we sit down and study it. First of all, it’s a long story, covering four chapters in Genesis. God started talking to Noah and he obediently set about the hundred year business of building an ark. We tend to picture the loading, the rain, the flood and the drying up as a short little deal. But when we read the text, we realize that from flood to dry ground involved more than a year. Noah’s family was in the ark, in the boat for a trip around the sun. They were in the dark all those months. And then, when the door finally fell open, they had to begin again.
Noah’s first act on dry ground was building an altar. He made a sacrifice; such a tremendous show of faith! And then we picture him settling into a peaceful new existence. But his story surely didn’t resolve as quickly as we like to imagine. No, he had to find suitable land, a clean water source (oh the irony there). He needed to build a shelter and cultivate the land. He was essentially a pioneer in a new land without another family in sight.
We want to close the book after God puts a bow in the sky with a promise in Genesis 9:17. We long to call it a happy ending. But if we have the courage to keep reading, we see that some years later, after Noah has planted and harvested a vineyard, he’s drinking away his sorrows in his tent. Even Noah, a righteous man by God’s declaration, had trouble with his unresolved song. He couldn’t quite find that final note that made the whole ordeal make sense.
Some of us are still living there. We’re making the most of a new existence, a different existence brought on by devastation, but our hearts and minds are still searching for resolution. When I read the account of Noah, I realize I may just have to learn to live with the tension. There are things that happen in this life that just won’t make sense this side of eternity. My vantage point isn’t elevated enough. My paygrade doesn’t afford me that vantage point. There are contributing factors that I can’t see, that I can’t control. I can lose a lot of precious time trying to figure it out, or I can trust God and believe Him for a Kingdom outcome. I can let the unresolved note push me to prayer, to praise, to working out my own absolute confidence in His ability to redeem all things.
“Have mercy on me, my God, have mercy on me, for in you I take refuge. I will take refuge in the shadow of your wings until the disaster has passed.” (Psalm 57:1 NIV)
Lord, help us still in the ark or just venturing out on dry ground. We long to make sense of it, our hearts and minds are working overtime to find resolution. Let this tension send us in Your direction. Help us trust in You for finality in every paragraph and page of our story. Amen.