“The Lord is my chosen
portion and my cup, you hold my lot. The
boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; I have a goodly
heritage.” Psalm 16:6
“The boundary lines have fallen
for me in pleasant places,” writes the Psalmist.
Several years ago, as I planned the readings
for our 25th wedding anniversary, these words jumped out at me. The operative word, for me, was then and is now,
the word “fallen”. The boundary lines in
my life have simply fallen in place in spite of my determined attempts to
control their placement.
For many years I spent much
time and effort planning and constructing the boundaries of my life, sometimes
even using Scripture or church teachings as the cement to keep the walls secure. These walls were built for a variety of
reasons; to keep my family safe, to keep out signs of imperfection, to hide
social injustice from my view, to defend my beliefs, and (I’m embarrassed to
admit) sometimes even to climb up on, so as to be able to look down on others
whose lives seemed “out of bounds”.
But, in the words of Robert
Frost, “Something there is that doesn’t love a wall, that sends the
frozen-ground-swell under it, and spills the upper boulders in the sun. “ Slowly
but surely the boulders toppled and the boundaries moved as my children
questioned their placement, EfM (Education for Ministry) challenged my doctrine,
and people refused to fit their assigned stereotypes. I found myself wondering “what I was walling in or walling out and to
whom I was like to give offense.” As the boundary lines began to fall in new
and unexpected places, I found that the people, places and ideas they
encompassed enriched rather than threatened my life.
Some call it karma and some
call it fate, and Frost even suggests elves as the culprit responsible for the
chances and changes in our lives. I
can’t help but think it might be the work of our surprising infant king whose love
knows no bounds.
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