CAN & CAN'T

Okay, the illustrations are a bit corny (or maybe “canned humor”)—a CAN and a CANTaloupe, but I’ve been thinking lately of “Can People” and the “Can’t People.”

“Can People” specialize in Biblical obedience and courage. They’re energized by statements like this: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13). Author: Paul. “Office” when he wrote that: a miserable First Century prison. Hardly the poster child to illustrate the results of possibility thinking. He couldn’t name-it/claim-it to get out of jail.

But, definitely the poster child for enduring difficulties if those were part of God’s script for his life and ministry. He preceded his “can-do” statement with his thanks to the Philippian church for sending practical help—probably money via an encouraging friend named Epaphroditis.

As a young adult in my late twenties, wrestling with major life changes, I was drawn to Paul’s positivity as expressed in the book of Philippians. My gas tank for life’s journey was definitely empty. I’d spent nearly all my savings to attend Bible college for a year. It was a great experience. I made good friends, gained Bible study tools, and deepened my spiritual walk. But as my coursework ended, I had no job. No place to live. And my bank account was starting to gasp.

My heart said, “God. I can’t go forward. What am I to do?”

Then a miracle one-year job came my way. The housing office asked me to stay in the campus apartments for the summer to “supervise” the guests who came and went—with free housing as my “pay.” When summer ended, some other single women invited me to live in the basement of their rented house as that roommate was leaving. It was dark and dank, but it was housing.

Something else happened that summer. One of my professors had set the high bar of encouraging students to memorize extended passages of scripture. Memorizing selected Bible verses had been part of my spiritual practices. But a whole book? Why not?

I chose the book of Philippians. I knew Paul wrote it out of a discouraging personal situation of imprisonment. Yet I knew it was considered the epistle of joy. And I needed joy in my life! So, I plunged in, memorizing a few verses at a time. Because my summer housing was “dorm furniture,” my bed was the bottom part of a bunk. I still remember holding up my little palm-size New Testament with its backdrop of springs supporting the upper bunk. I’d read a phrase, close my eyes, and try to quote it. Over and over. Over and over.

At times I wondered why I had taken on such a task. But the maturity of that professor’s spiritual walk compelled me to give it a try. By summer’s end, when I had memorized dozens of verses, I realized this had been God’s discipline to chip away at my “can’t” attitudes. He drew nearer than ever before (4:4), taught me about the trait of gentleness (v. 5), worked on my tendency to worry (anxiety, v. 6), and put me through the school of being patient about unanswered prayer (v. 6). Word by word, verse by verse, that huge scripture memory project built up my faith.

Even today, as I read Philippians, I can remember the “sanctuary” of a steel bunk bed, holding up that little Testament and closing my eyes as I memorized each phrase.  As God’s Words filled my brain, He fine-tuned my heart, helping me drop the “T” in the “cants” of my spiritual life.