When Nothing is Going On

When Nothing is Going On

by J. Grant Swank Jr.


How many times in life do you sit yourself down and say, “Nothing is happening. Maybe God forgot to punch in today.”

Oh really?

Jail and tragedy

Go figure, as the teens say today. Go figure what happened with Joe seated in Egypt’s jail house cell. Nothing was going on. Nothing. Rats ran across the floor. Water gathered flies in the corner bowl. God must have failed to punch in.

Go figure what was going on with Job seated on an ash heap. Nothing was moving but his wife who wound his ear drums up tight: “Curse God and die!” Nice woman.

In other words, from all appearances, nothing at all was happening in that man’s life but the worst of times.

Lions and a boat

Go figure with Dan being led to the lions den. Hands tied with rope. Burly soldiers tossing him about the footpath. An empire breathing down his slender throat. And lions salivating all over the cave floor. Obviously, God had forgotten to punch in.

Go figure with Noah and Mom Noah and three sons and daughters-in-law. Nothing really was happening but more sweat pounded into a backyard boat. And for what? For a “rain” that had never been? For “drops from above” that were mere fiction? Noah’ ears rang night and day from neighbors’ pans clanging ridicule till dawn. Evidently God had forgotten to punch in.

Stoned for Jesus

Go figure with Paul, stoned and left for dead. For doing what? For preaching love, joy, and peace. For showing a village how to find their way to eternal life. For befriending Jews and Gentiles alike for Jesus’ sake. The end of it all was a ministry of stones pounded into his flesh.

God, why didn’t You remember to show up for work when Paul needed You?

Blind faith

Go figure with you — vacuum, nobody loves you; nothing is going right; friends have betrayed you; enemies are screwing up their ammunition fire for another round; skies are loaded with rain clouds.

Don’t you believe that when nothing works, God is? Haven’t you committed yourself to blind faith in His doings, whether you can understand them or not, whether you feel anything religious or not, whether anyone else cares about your mission or not?

Don’t you reckon that the journey can be a lonely one? The way of the cross? The pilgrimage of an alien here below?

Forgotten Man?

Then look back particularly on One who (go figure) had all the reasons to conclude that His Father had forgotten to clock in on that night, moving into the next day’s bloodletting as well.

There He hung — messed up, unsightly, belly bellowing to the Calvary winds, flies buzzing about His crusted brow, arms sagging beneath nails punched into His skin, an army of cowardly followers hiding out in nighttime’s shelters. Nothing was going on. Nothing.

Go figure.