CREEDE HINSHAW: Reflecting on the gifts that chance presents

Earlier this week, searching through my library, I stumbled across “The Place of Trust,” a book I forgot I owned. This slender volume, containing three sermons written by Martin Luther, is preceded by a 10-page introduction by renowned church historian Martin Marty.

I must have bought the book in Savannah at a greatly discounted price: It is stamped “Chatham-Effingham-Liberty Regional Library,” the cream-colored card pouch affixed inside the back cover.

Today’s column (I promise it is my last on Luther) is based on the monk’s sermon “Do Not Be Anxious” (Matthew 6:25-7:11). The gifted German wrote these words: “The best possessions are not the ones that come from our planning, but the ones that come by chance and from His generosity.”

That incisive comment rang true for me immediately. Much of the joy in life comes through serendipity. If we can be open to life’s interesting and unplanned twists and turns, trusting that a loving God is in charge of all of life, we can live victoriously and abundantly.

This is not to deny the value of planning. Many people find enormous satisfaction when careful, deliberate, thoughtful plans, conscientiously executed, come to full fruition as predicted and envisioned. That’s a very good feeling.

But life rarely works out that smoothly. Though we should not despise flow charts, diagrams and action plans, such activity can only take one so far. Algorithms are not the future. Those who recently watched Ken Burns’ “Vietnam” on PBS were reminded that one of this nation’s most careful planners, Defense Secretary Robert McNamara, could not draw up the logistical solution to winning that tragic Southeast Asian war.

Luther’s lovely observation was confirmed for me this week. On a beautiful afternoon, deep blue October sky overhead, I planned to go to the driving range to hit and chip some balls, walk four holes on the course and drive to the gym for my Tuesday workout. The first half of my plan worked out as anticipated.

But as I headed for my car, a pastor from another denomination drove up in a golf cart and invited me to play nine holes with him. He and I have lamely vowed to play golf together for over a year so I took advantage of the opportunity. We both shot pretty lousy golf, but got far better acquainted and had a very meaningful conversation that came at just the right moment for me. I couldn’t have drawn up such a fine plan on my own.

The task-driven, list-making part of me regretted missing my regular Tuesday workout routine. But something far richer took place instead. It was a gift of chance and God’s generosity.

For that matter, finding that book on my shelf wasn’t my plan, either. I am grateful for whoever culled it from a Savannah library and delighted that — thanks to my 2017 interest in Brother Martin — I was able to dip into an almost 500-year-old sermon written just for me.

Email columnist Creede Hinshaw, a retired Methodist minister, at [email protected].