Tossing his axe and measuring line aside, he stretched his back and reached for his canteen. He needed a drink. Probably needed a shower. Sweat was running down his brow at an alarming rate. Yuck. Taking a long drink, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and surveyed his project. A grin kicked up the corner of his mouth. This thing was massive. Bigger than anything he ever would have imagined. He knew it would be. As soon as he heard the dimensions, the sheer magnitude of the project made him nervous. He’d fallen into a rhythm with the building, though, and staring at the half-finished product had Noah excited to see the end result. A floating zoo. Completely organized into levels and stalls, waterproofed with tar, able to withstand any oncoming flood. Who would have thought it possible?
Certainly not Noah. He’d never imagined a devastating flood sweeping away homes and humans, uprooting trees and destroying fields. When God began handing down directives for material and dimensions, his head swam. Not in water. In plans. Every command must be followed exactly. Every measurement. Every material. Cypress wood. Tar. Decks. Stalls. Ridiculously long. Crazily wide. Wildly high. A place for everything and everything in its designated space. Humans. Animals. Food. Every area had a specific purpose. Nothing was wasted. No need was overlooked. Gazing at the half-built creation, Noah couldn’t keep the glint of admiration from his eye. God had certainly done a magnificent job. Again.
Bending back to his task, Noah ruminated over the things God had done. It was all fantastic. Nothing God had done was ever flawed. Humans might have mucked things up from time to time, but God, He did everything perfectly. Noah believed that with his entire being. He believed God did everything well. Everything. That belief held him steady in the current social climate of apathy and complacency when people were more concerned about their social calendars than their spiritual connections. It guided his steps as he chose to live in obedience to God rather than adherence to the world. It encouraged him to spend time in silence, learning to hear God’s voice above the pandemonium of earth. It helped him live blamelessly before God, eschewing the evil around him to meticulously follow the paths of righteousness alone.
Noah’s choices hadn’t made him popular. With people. His adjectives in society were less than complimentary. When people weren’t ignoring him, they were mocking him. It didn’t matter. Couldn’t matter. He’d made a choice. He belonged to God. He wasn’t ashamed of it. He believed it was better to suffer social rejection on earth than spiritual rejection in eternity. Noah knew his adjectives with God were of far greater importance. They spoke of who he really was, told how God saw him. Blameless. Righteous. Faithful.
His ancestor Enoch had similar adjectives. The few sentences of his story reverberate with them. Enoch walked with God. Closely. Inhabited that space. Their relationship was so close, in fact, that Enoch never endured the throes of death. He simply disappeared. So deeply did God long to have His friend Enoch in His physical presence, that God took him. No one questioned where he went. No one panicked. No one sent out a search party. His choice to live in obedient fellowship with God was all the answer anyone needed. He was blameless. He was righteous. He was faithful. And God took him. (Genesis 5:22-23)
It was that same type of legacy Noah wanted to leave for his descendants. An example of living uprightly in a society whose moral compass decidedly failed to point due north. As people mocked him, begged him to join them, tempted him with things that seemed innocuous yet were tinged with sin, Noah planted his flag and stood alone. He wasn’t interested in their tomfoolery. He had no desire to partake in their wicked shenanigans. He would not be swayed by their abhorrently evil imaginations. And, when God spoke, asking him to do something outrageous, Noah chose to walk in complete obedience no matter what the people around him chose to do or say. Blameless. Righteous. Faithful.
The choice had led him to this place. Standing before an enormous, if only half-finished, boat of cypress wood and tar. Mentally planning which step to do next. Carefully considering where each animal would live. Wondering how he was going to get all those animals on board. Imagining what the outside world would be enduring while he was tucked safely away on the boat. Wishing more people could come with him. Regretful that no others seemed concerned with his sudden sailing fascination. Saddened that so many people had chosen to find their adjectives in worldly pleasures rather than in obedience to God. (Genesis 6)
As the first drops of rain splashed on the ground outside the ark, one wonders what the people there were thinking. Perhaps, buried so deep in their preoccupation with their parties and banquets and weddings, they didn’t even notice the puddles beginning to form. Maybe they commented on the much-needed rain, but failed to notice its relentlessness. Perhaps they chuckled and joked about Noah finally getting some water to float his boat. But as the waters rose and dry land began to disappear, they realized this was no laughing matter. Noah was right all along. Not just about an impending flood and the necessity of a boat. Noah was right about other things too. Things like his adjectives and how to get the ones that matter.
You see, not everything people call you matters. In fact, very little of what people call you matters. What society sees in you or thinks about you has absolutely no bearing on what God calls you. Nor does it matter. Only what God calls you matters. Not just the noun. The adjectives. Those descriptors of what is truly in your heart. The words that grow from the choices you regularly make. Obedient. Faithful. Blameless. Righteous. Enoch lived it. Noah knew it. Job endured it. What God knew about Job couldn’t be seen by the human eye. The words God used to describe Job had nothing to do with his wealth and status. When God needed to put Job into words, He used only a handful. And they are fantastic. Honest. Blameless. Upright. God-fearing. Self-controlled. They weren’t the words everyone else used. They had nothing to do with his ridiculous number of sheep and camels, oxen, and donkeys. They didn’t even hint at his affluence. Yet they were the words that mattered. The only words. God’s words. His adjectives. Predicated on Job’s unwavering obedience to Him. (Job 1:8; I Samuel 16:7; Luke 16:15; Matthew 23:27-28; James 2:1-4)
In a world and time and society where the words people use to describe us feel like they matter so much, it is imperative to take a quiet moment to be honest with ourselves about what God calls us. Each of us. Individually. Not the noun. The adjectives. Our descriptors. The things God would say if He were describing us today. Words uncovering what is in our hearts. Words we choose through our obedience, or lack thereof, to God. Words that will stand the scrutiny of His righteous judgment. Obedient. Faithful. Upright. Blameless. Righteous. Adjectives that matter. Qualities time can’t fade, and circumstances are unable to change. Words of God. About the people of God. Adjectives you choose. What are yours? (Jeremiah 17:10; Proverbs 21:2; John 7:24; I Corinthians 4:3-13; Deuteronomy 28:1)