Genesis 11

When I first heard the story of Babel as a youngling, I thought that the people wanted to build the tower so high that it literally went all the way to Heaven. Well, first, Heaven isn't physically located above us, at the top of the universe, as it were. They'd end up either building to infinity or, if the universe is bounded…well, ask Stephen Hawking because I have no clue. Second, and most obvious, they'd die from lack of oxygen once they exited the atmosphere.

These Babel folks are attempting something physically impossible, so why does God stop them? They'd probably have given up on their own, as did the builders of every other pyramid and ziggurat on Earth; the highest of those doesn't come close to the boundary between the troposphere and the stratosphere. Was this an act of mercy, God nipping this little construction project in the bud before the people of Babel wasted too much time?

In verse 6, God says that nothing will be impossible for people if they spoke the same language. That's not literally true--most Americans speak English, yet our country can't figure out how to disentangle itself from so many of its domestic predicaments. The NIV Study Bible clarifies this point: if the people had remained united in their attempt to build this tower and rely on their own ambition, nothing would have stopped them from living lives in complete defiance to God.

God is in fact nipping something in the bud--our reliance on ourselves. The story of Babel crystallizes the notion that human effort without God will lead to spiritual failure. Sure, many momentous achievements in human history have been secular in origin and intent, adding to our understanding of the universe and increasing our earthly quality of life. But spiritually, we cannot attain perfection through our own efforts.

Let me change gears just a bit. (But this is still relevant. I promise!) I've always loved to write; in second grade, my teacher had us work on creative writing every Friday. (I remember it with such fondness that I can even recall the day of the week.) I started my first "serial,"writing about a chapter a week. I called my masterpiece "The King Chapter Book," about--you guessed it--a king. It was about as puerile as the name suggested, but I still remember the sense of elation and accomplishment I had when I finished it. Now, I know I'm no Mark Twain or Samuel Johnson, but my writing skill exceeds  just about every other "skill" I possess. (So if you hate my writing, I'm afraid I have nothing else to offer in terms of talent.)

The point (finally) is that I'm trying to use my writing "skill" to somehow glorify God, but I have to be careful not to make if my tower of Babel. I don't want to crow over what I've written, marveling at my own pithy prose and delicious turn of phrase. (I more often cringe at what I've written--perhaps that's God keeping me humble.) I'm a bit of a worrier (a whole other topic), but I have to learn to trust in God, having faith that He will mold me--sometimes harshly--into the person He wants me to be. Writing, for me, is invigorating (though time-consuming and often arduous), but I can't rely on it to bring me close to God.