Minding My Own Business

“But we urge you, brothers...to aspire to live quietly, and to mind your own business…” (1 Thessalonians 4:10,11).

Some years ago our son Josh and I were making our way up a mountain trail when we spied a cloud of dust rising in the air ahead of us. We crept forward and discovered a grizzled old badger busy digging a den in a dirt bank by the trail. 

He had his head and shoulders in the hole and was vigorously digging with his front paws and kicking the dirt out of the hole with his hind feet. He was so engaged in his work he didn't hear us. 

I couldn't resist. 

I spied a slender lodgepole pine about 15' long lying on the ground nearby, picked it up and gently prodded him in the rump. 

True story: That badger leaped straight up in the air, turned 180º in mid-air, gnashed his teeth, and started running toward us before his feet even hit the ground. (He looked for all the world like one of those cartoon characters whose feet and legs seem to whirl.) Josh and I set new world records for the hundred meter cross-country dash. 

I learned something from my brashness: I need to stay out of other people’s business.

Why do I meddle in other people's lives? I need to quiet my anxieties over their progress, or lack thereof, and stop trying to manage their affairs.  Jeremy Taylor said, “We should enjoy more peace, if we did not busy our selves with the words and deeds of other men, which appertain not to our charge.” 

That's especially true in spiritual matters. We can pray for and encourage our brothers and sisters in Christ. We can seek by God's grace to exemplify the truth as we learn it. We may have opportunities to pass on something of God's word when it's appropriate todo so. And, on the odd occasion, we may be called upon to offer a gentle word of correction. But the direction our brothers and sisters are going (unless they’re going wrong) and the speed with which they are growing is the Lord's business. 

Paul writes, "Who are you to judge another's servant? To his own master he stands or falls. Indeed, he will be made to stand, for God is able to make him stand" (Romans 14:4).

David Roper

6/26/16

The End of a Thing

"Better is the end of a thing than its beginning, and the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit." —Ecclesiastes 7:8

Mentor’s koan invites a good deal of thought: In what sense is the end of a thing better than it’s beginning? Let’s puzzle it out…

The Hebrew noun here translated "end" literally means "afterward" and refers to an end-product, or the outcome of an action. I would translate the couplet this way: 

Outcomes are better than beginnings; 

patience is better than pride.

If we think about God’s outcomes, they are always better, for, as Paul reminds us, "all things work together for good." The phrase "all things" refers to...well, all things, even the things that annoy us. The “good” He envisions for us is the best possible good: the eternal purpose for which we were created, to show forth the goodness of our Lord Jesus Christ (Romans 8:28-30).

The antithesis “patient/proud” in the second line of the verse is surprising; You would expect the parallel to be “patience/impatience.”  The juxtaposition of patient and proud suggests that impatience is actually pride—prideful presumption. We think, if God would give us a chance to shape our own destiny, we would do a better job of it than he. 

So…every time I grumble about my lot; every time I'm displeased, hurt, or resentful when things don't go my way; every time I show impatience in the face of delay, I'm thinking that I have a a better plan and purpose for my life than that which God has envisioned for me. 

Is it not better to rest in God's wisdom and love and say to Him in every situation, "Let it be to me according to your word." Then God can continue to work toward the outcome He has envisioned from the beginning.

BTW: The word here translated “end” (afterward) often means the after-life in the Old Testament. And that, of course, is the best outcome of all. 

David Roper

6/25/16

Pulling an Eddie

Certain sports figures have forever endeared themselves to us. One is British ski jumper, Eddie “the Eagle” Edwards, who competed in the 1988 Winter Olympics in Calgary and whose lunacy captured our hearts.

Millions of viewers watched with their hearts in their mouths as Eddie careened down the 90–meter hill and wind–milled into space. I’m told that Eddie’s birthday, December 5th, is still celebrated in casualty departments around the world.

Eddie has his very own entry in the Oxford Book of Words and Phrases. “Pulling an Eddie” is defined as “doing something extremely badly, and doing it in the most embarrassing manner possible.”

Nevertheless, Eddie went for it—that’s the important thing—and actually got better, competing in later years with greater ability, which leads me to the thought that "doing extremely badly" is the one of the ways we grow. Ask Peter, who tried to walk on water.

Peter’s story is gospel, but also a parable about risk, failure, and growing. The story, as Matthew tells it, takes place on the Sea of Galilee one stormy night. The disciples were in their fishing boats, rowing against a stiff wind when Jesus walked by them—on the water!

According to the story, the disciples were at first frightened, thinking they were seeing an apparition. Then, when assured it was Jesus, Peter cried out, “Lord, if it’s you, tell me to come to you on the water.”

Peter could have stayed in the boat, safe from wind and waves, but God had placed in Peter, as he has placed in us, a hunger for high adventure. So, when Jesus called out to Peter: “Come!” Peter leaped out of the boat and began to walk toward Jesus on the crests of the waves.

But, when he realized what he was doing, Peter panicked and began to sink. “Lord, save me,” he cried out. Immediately Jesus reached out, took his hand, pulled him out of the water and they walked together to the boat.

Did Peter do extremely badly? Indeed. Did he do it in the most embarrassing manner possible? Absolutely. But—and here’s the point—Peter walked on water, the only person other than Jesus to do so, and he never forgot the feeling, or the hand that lifted him out of his failure, and sustained him as he walked again.

So, I ask you, what is God calling you to do? You say, “I’m just an ordinary person; my circumstances are restricted; my conditions are commonplace. What can I do and how can I know what God wants me to do or to be?”

He will let you know. It may be to follow your heart’s desire for deeper intimacy with God and personal holiness. It may be to fulfill your longing to teach a child, or to share your faith with a neighbor. It may be to struggle against some sin that you can hardly stand to look at, or to think about—a perverse thing that has defeated you again and again. It may be a godly choice that will result in cruel ridicule, or an act so far beyond you that it seems ridiculous to try. Or it may be to bear a disability with patience.

That drawing in your soul, that dawning of hope is the voice of God himself telling you to come. Get out of your boat and walk—even if at first you don’t succeed. Give it a shot! As a friend of mine says, “If a thing is worth doing it’s worth doing badly.”

David Roper