Coincidental Confluence

My wife and I often remark sarcastically about the little “coincidences” God orchestrates in our lives. One dictionary defines coincidence as, “a remarkable concurrence of events or circumstances without apparent causal connection.” As a synonym the dictionary offers “providence.” This strikes nearer the truth I am getting at. Because I believe in a sovereign God, there really is nothing that happens by coincidence, at least not in the sense the term is usually applied. Divine “Providence” is always behind every “coincidence.”

By way of illustration, let me describe a coincidence that happened today. I was reading an article in Christianity Today by Russel Moore in which he recommends the writings of Frederick Buechner (Pronounced Beek-ner), a twentieth century theologian/essayist/novelist. Moore, being a staunch conservative is quick to say that Buechner is not typically read by such as he, but that he finds much to recommend, if with careful discernment. Moore suggests that an overriding theme in Buechner is that every life has a plot, meaning that if we want to understand ourselves and get some meaning from life, we should notice the everyday trivialities that form the warp and woof of living.

Coinciding with this thought from Moore/Buechner, I happened to read Charles Spurgeon’s devotional thought for this morning. Spurgeon drew his ideas from Colossians 1 where Paul explains his calling to the Gentiles by saying, “To them God chose to make known how great among the Gentiles are the riches of the glory of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory. Him we proclaim, warning everyone and teaching everyone with all wisdom, that we may present everyone mature in Christ.” That we will one day be “mature in Christ” is the happy reminder Spurgeon leaves with his readers.

In the confluence of these coincidental readings I find the assurance that all the things that happen to believers, the good, the bad, and the ugly, “work together for our good,” as Paul said elsewhere. The end result of this working together according to Paul is, “to be conformed to the image of his Son.” In other words, the plot of every believer’s life is the working out of sometimes painful, sometimes beautiful incidents that piece by piece write the story of our being made in Christ’s image.

Finally, the backdrop in my life story into which this confluence falls is this: a very dear friend of mine made his way from this life into Glory last week. He was a young man, not that age matters, who had spent the last dozen years in a wheelchair. A fanatic hunter, he had fallen from a tree stand and become paralyzed from the waist down. We all watched as he saw his twin girls grow into teens, and his wife spend herself in his care. To those of us in the little body of Christ where they worshiped, it was a story of struggle and commitment where no one seemed to lose faith in God’s “providence.”

Then the plot thickened: he got cancer; it was terminal. He died. One could scream how unfair this all seems. His wife and daughters must now soldier on with this plot twist as part of their stories. Someone once said that the trials of life either make us better or bitter. I have lost a niece, a sister and my father in unfortunate circumstances, but none compare to what these three young women now face. They have no chance to erase the painful past; they have a choice to make something of it in their future. Bitter or better; broken or stronger.

A few years ago, I wrote a poem that these coincidences have brought to mind. I share it in closing:

Life is a symphony played on your heart

Memories are instruments set to a tone

Harsh ones and gentle ones all have a part

Each keeping time with a voice of its own.

Sometimes the string section brings you to tears

Mellow and soft, yet humming with pain

Notes that repeat themselves years into years

Drumming like drops in a seven-day rain.

Sometimes the piccolo sparkles with laughter

Giggling gayly on some sunny shore

Sparkling notes leave you smiling long after

Wistfully sighing and wishing for more.

The brass will play marches that strut through your mind

Recalling the flags and the uniformed bands

Honor and duty and pride all unwind

In an uplifted cheer and a clap of the hands.

And so it will go with you day after day

Music will come to you bidden or not

Make good of the moment for soon it will play

And the music you’re writing is all that you’ve got.