God’s Providence and Burnt Toast

The providence of God is the biblical truth that God unstoppably governs absolutely everything by his fatherly hand for the Christian’s ultimate good. 

As the Heidelberg Catechism (1563) puts it: 

[God] upholds heaven and earth with all creatures and so governs them that herbs and grass, rain and drought, fruitful and barren years, meat and drink, health and sickness, riches and poverty, indeed, all things come not by chance, but by his fatherly hand.

The “not by chance” is especially important. 

J.I. Packers explains:

The doctrine of providence teaches Christians that they are never in the grip of blind forces (fortune, chance, luck, fate); all that happens to them is divinely planned, and each event comes as a new summons to trust, obey, and rejoice, knowing that all is for one’s spiritual and eternal good. (Concise Theology, 74)

Now it’s one thing to believe this at a broad, macro-level. If we zoom out and think about our lives it’s typically easier to trace God’s hand, or at least we have hints. When we consider the evils of our fallen world at a distance, we can at least try to theologize our way to trusting God’s purpose. But my focus for now, though, is on our experience of mundane moments. I’m interested in how the doctrine of providence impacts us in the “small things” of everyday life. How does the fact that God governs all things by his fatherly hand impact the way we react to burning the toast? Or to the flat tire? Or to the broken furniture piece? And I mean react. I’m not talking about a week later in retrospect, but when the smoke alarm goes off because you forgot the toast. Then.

In Our Reactions

Now inevitability this gets into matters of a tiered psychology (What are we thinking and where’s it coming from and how much “control” can we exercise? It can get deep, and that’s an important discussion, but I’m mostly concerned with Christian virtues.) My question is: what Christian virtue manifests itself when we rightly react to burnt toast in light of God’s providence?

I think the answer is humility. 

But I need to qualify humility. We can often envision humility as timid and docile, as perhaps a little sheepish — the opposite of confidence. But that’s not biblical humility, not if we accept that Jesus was the humblest man to ever live and his humblest moment was on the cross. The cross was extreme chaos, and Jesus certainly, as Paul tells us, exemplified humility (see Philippians 2:3–8). However, it was so remarkable and extraordinary, I think there’s another word besides humility that captures the scene. That word is imperturbability.

Meet Imperturbability

“Imperturbability” is a word seldom used and a character quality often forgotten. It is one of those rare words in the English language that is as clunky to pronounce as its concept is to embody, which is partly why I love it. The simplest definition is to be unable to be upset. Stated positively, it’s to be calm. But theologically defined, I’d like to argue that imperturbability is the Christian virtue of humility amid chaos. 

Imperturbability is in the family of humility, but it’s humility expressed in an especially twisted context. It’s a steeled confidence in God, a steadied heart, and a resolute purpose, even when everything around you seems to be crashing down, or when the toast burns.

And this is your reaction, this is the virtue you manifest, because you know that God governs the burning of toast, and he wouldn’t ever let the toast burn if he didn’t intend to effect some good in you through it. It would be imperturbable of you — and radically Christlike — to keep your cool, toss the toast, and just try again. It would be imperturbable of you that when the smoke alarm goes off, you lift up your eyes to him who is seated on the throne and guides all things by his fatherly hand (Psalm 123:1). 

Imperturbable is the Christian way to react in the light of God’s providence when things go badly. I want more of this. I want to get there. I want to get there sooner. Don’t you?