Delight

My first memory of interest in chemistry dates from fifth grade, when one day I was given a small paperback workbook dealing with science. There were reading passages, interesting diagrams, and questions to be answered. The Bunsen burner and how it was used intrigued me. Sixth grade science introduced me to the atom, and in ninth grade my science teacher presented parts of the periodic table to me. Something about it was oddly interesting, and my very sharp young mind assimilated it immediately.

To this day I’m grateful for the three things my eleventh grade chemistry teacher successfully taught me (it wasn’t his fault that I didn’t learn more). One had to do with pH calculations, another with how to properly clean beakers and flasks and other laboratory glassware in preparation for careful chemical analysis, and the last was a short sentence: LEO is a lion and goes GER. This has everything to do with a type of chemical reaction called an oxidation-reduction reaction, and the acronyms are there to help remember how to describe the processes: Loss of Electrons is Oxidation; Gain of Electrons is Reduction. During high school I also became intrigued by the regularity of molecular architecture, particularly of biochemical substances, and I still enjoy this kind of thing. These days I have powerful software tools that enable me to examine molecules in three dimensions and model important molecular properties. It can be great fun, and it results in delightful images painted with intense colors.

In college I found that chemical reactions could produce beautiful colors, or changes in color. There’s nothing quite like mixing two colorless, clear solutions together and finding that they produce a brilliant yellow cascade of powder that settles out to the bottom of the flask. Flames can be tainted with chemicals to produce colors that depend on the elements that the chemicals are composed of. I still do this in my general chemistry class to illustrate some of the evidence that leads to the quantum theory of the atom: I show them green flames, yellow flames, violet flames, and scarlet flames. It’s delightful to see. While working in my laboratory in graduate school I controlled the color of solutions by the careful addition of minute amounts of acid or base, and I analyzed the changes quantitatively in order to describe the underlying chemical reactions with mathematical precision. I also found that a solution of a chemical could be made to emit light, and that I could control the brightness and color of the light by twiddling with the chemistry. Part of the fun of being a chemist is the delight of pretty colors. What delights you? Whatever it is, it brings you pleasure, and you enjoy not only experiencing it, but also thinking about it.

In The Vending Machine I pointed out that God does not grant our wishes when we approach Him simply to get what we want. God does, in fact, want to give us what we want, but He gives a condition:

Delight yourself in the Lord,

and he will give you the desires of your heart.

(Psalm 37:4 ESV)

There are many ways that I delight in God. I thank Him for the ability to enjoy a beautiful sunset. I marvel at His patience with a sinner such as myself. Words of thanks and praise come from my lips for His constant presence with me as I face difficult things. Although I struggle at times, how wonderful it is to always be brought back to peace, no matter what happens! His words comfort my soul; they give me insight into the way He thinks and help me to understand why He does things. The Creator of the universe is my friend! But there’s more to it than this.

Although I’m not a Hebrew scholar, I do have access to resources written by scholars. One such resource tells me that the Hebrew word for delight in Psalm 37:4 means to be soft or pliable. How does one delight in God by being soft or pliable?

During my years as an undergraduate the Lord pointed out to me that I was seeking my purpose in life rather than His. As a result of His careful work on my soul I told the Lord that I would do whatever He wanted me to do. As I started my graduate work I added something to my prayer: “Lord, I’ll do whatever you want me to do, but I need to know what it is.” Do you see the pliability in my soul? Although I was working on a PhD in pharmaceutical sciences so that I could have a research career, I continued to pray this way. I began to have inklings about teaching. This was odd: I had never given any serious consideration to teaching. “Lord, I’ll do whatever you want me to do, but I need to know what it is.”

As I continued to pray, a clear desire to teach formed in my mind. Oddly enough, it was very specific: I began to want to teach chemistry at BJU. Months and years passed, and as I continued to pray this way the desire to teach intensified. Sometime during my last year of graduate school my prayer had changed: “Lord, either open this door to teach at BJU, or take this desire away, or I’m going to die!” And then He swung the door wide open. As far as careers go, there’s nothing better than wanting to do one thing more than anything else in life and then having God say to you, “This is my will for you—go and do it.” Do you see it? I delighted myself in God, and He gave me the desire of my heart.

Being pliable in God’s hands is not always an easy thing to do. Sometimes it is His intention for us to walk on difficult paths, to face the darkness, and yet continue to trust Him when the outcome is unknown. This is walking by faith, and it is also delighting in Him. Sometimes He reminds me that He calls the shots:

Does the clay say to him who forms it, ‘What are you making?’

(Isaiah 45:9 ESV)

The analogy here is that of a potter working on clay. Have you ever seen a video of a potter making a clay pot on a potter’s wheel? It’s fascinating to watch. I enjoyed watching Sarah Beth do it when she took a ceramics class at BJU, and we have some beautiful examples of her work in our house. Neither she nor any other potter has ever had insubordinate clay say, “Hey! I don’t want to be a coffee mug. I want to be a decorative vase!”

And yet there are times when I object to what God is doing, as though I know better. Yes, the clay is made to be pliable so that the potter can make whatever is desired. There are days when I wonder what will become of me and my cancer, and sometimes I’m not sure I want to go along with the Divine Potter. I wrestle with Him, I wrestle with myself, I talk with Him, and I then I choose to be pliable: “Lord, I’m the clay, and you are the Potter. Do with me whatever you like.”