I first learned about P.G. Wodehouse’s Jeeves from reading the remarkable English novelist Charles
Williams. A character in his most accessible work, the 1930 novel War in Heaven, mentions her sheer delight
in reading Jeeves. So I went in search of Wodehouse, who had been wildly
popular in the first half of the twentieth century, found him, and began chuckling
my way through Jeeves stories.
Jeeves is Reginald Jeeves, valet extraordinaire to the
upper-class wastrel Bertie Wooster. Bertie, though educated at Eton and Oxford,
is remarkably dense and nearly always in trouble. Enter Jeeves, the gentleman’s
gentleman. Jeeves knows everything, from the best bet in the 2:00 race at Epsom
Downs to the current romantic interests of the kitchen staff, to the most obscure
lines of Renaissance poetry. His knowledge is encyclopedic.
Whenever Bertie gets into trouble, he turns to Jeeves.
Though Jeeves is sometimes offended by Bertie’s outlandish behavior, Jeeves
remains faithful to him. He may leave Bertie briefly, but he always returns to
save the prodigal from the consequences of his own foolishness.
Jeeves, with his boundless knowledge and seemingly infinite
reach, is more than a little like God. Perhaps Wodehouse realized this, for he
once described him as “a godlike man in a bowler hat.” By making Jeeves like
God, Wodehouse was able to create all kinds of interesting and comedic (in the term’s
larger sense) plot lines.
Bertie thinks Jeeves is like God but we mustn’t think that
God is like Jeeves – though many people do. They suppose he will remain nearby,
though discreetly keeping his distance until he is needed. When his assistance
is required, they think they need only call and he will appear – Jeeves-like –
out of nowhere. He will of course know what to do and will use his vast network
of connections to make sure it gets done. When the trouble is over, he will
slip away into the nether regions until the next time he is summoned.
To the degree we subscribe to such a view of God, we do God
an injustice and ourselves significant harm. When we think of God in these
terms, we get our situation exactly backwards, assuming that the infinite and
all-knowing God is our servant, whose chief concern is rescuing us from trouble
and making sure our life runs smoothly.
Jesus and the biblical writers warned against this mistake.
In the Old Testament, Joshua, the successor to Moses, is finalizing battle plans
prior to his first engagement with the enemy. It is undoubtedly a
nerve-wracking time that calls for great courage, which Joshua possesses in
abundance. As he contemplates his first major battle in the Promised Land, he suddenly
realizes he is not alone. He sees a man, standing in front of him with sword
drawn. He goes straight toward him and boldly challenges him.
But this is no ordinary man. He identifies himself as “the
commander of the Lord’s army.” When Joshua challenges him, “Are you for us or
for our enemies?” the man gives a striking answer: “Neither.” Apparently, when
addressing God, the question is not whether he in on our side but whether we
are on his.
Jesus once told a story about a servant who comes in from
working in the fields. His master does not fix his supper, nor wait on him.
Rather, the servant prepares the master’s dinner and only sits down to his own
meal after his master has been served. The point of the parable has been
disputed but this much is clear: the servant is not the master.
That is a truth the church must relearn in each generation.
Whether it is twentieth century
theologians attempting to use God to create a just society or twenty-first
century therapeutic religionists trying to use God to achieve self-actualization,
we keep forgetting that God is not a glorified Jeeves who lives to serve us.
A.W. Tozer was right: “The whole course of the life is upset by failure to put God where He belongs.” But it is also true that the whole course of life is upset when we put ourselves where we don’t belong – in God’s place.
First published by Gatehouse Media, 3/16/2019