Writers In The Storm

I’ve been thinking a lot about leaders lately, having been a microcosmic one myself in years past, and as with most issues, I have an opinion.  Business leaders, church leaders, presidents.  The power wielded by such is inestimable as it effects the lives of their charges. 

Lost jobs.  Lost faith.  Lost lives. 

I’ve never wanted to run the world.  Or even the country.  I have an inherent mistrust of anyone that fancies himself qualified.  And there isn’t a sole alive that I agree with on everything.  Ask my husband.

Every leader, including Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, is there by the appointment of God.  That is my comfort.  Because I know that no matter whom we elect come November, he will have to give an accounting before God.  He will have to answer for the decisions he made.  He will have to bow down.

God is the beginning and the end.  The ultimate benevolent sovereign. I have refuge in His keep.  I have rest in Him.  

Doctors embrace an oath to “first do no harm.” When they can’t figure out what’s wrong or the correct treatment, doctors fall back on this foundational principle. As Christians, we have a parallel, guiding principle—“corrupt no one.” Don’t be a stumbling block. Don’t cause someone else to trip and fall. Don’t violate someone else’s conscience. Don’t be an offense. Basically, don’t cause others to run from Christ.

When we committed our lives to Christ, we were called to glorify God. And in those early days, the zeal of grandiose plans to change the world caught us tripping on ourselves as we attempted to live out our newfound faith. Our older, more mature faith may be tempered by the wisdom of lessons learned through the years and failures that have yielded a more humble approach, but hopefully, our faith still soars to that level of wanting to seek His will, to obey His word, and to tell others about Him. But some days, all our feeble hearts may manage is a weak effort to “corrupt no one.” Fight our impulses to do our own thing our selfish way. Resist the flesh, our wishes and wants. Don’t discredit Jesus. Struggle.

The struggle of life isn’t always to do great things. Sometimes it’s simply to not get in God’s way, to not be a distraction from the cross. To get out of the way and let God shine, to let God make a difference in others’ lives. And to not mess up by losing heart and living in the flesh—to battle in the heart and the mind, where the struggle begins.

The struggle involves the “don’ts” of life—and more. To struggle well, we learn to lean on His grace moment by moment, to cry out for His help when we fall, to receive His grace in our impossible circumstances, to recognize He is the one who holds our hands and only He can enable and empower us to live for Him. Struggling well means we’ve learned to trust that God can somehow take this dust, this messed up broken life, and be glorified. Only God could do that impossible feat—to take the struggle of our flesh and create something He calls “good.”

We can learn from doctors—first do no harm. To others or the gospel. We may not know the right answers or be able to recall the perfect verse in a difficult situation. Our wants may get in the way of meeting someone’s needs. The pain we face may be too overwhelming to walk through triumphantly—we may feel lucky to have merely survived. Or the situation we encounter may be too complicated for anyone to sort out. But we can fall back on this foundational principle—do no harm. Corrupt no one. Struggle well.

“…giving no cause for offense in anything, in order that the ministry be not discredited… we wronged no one, we corrupted no one, we took advantage of no one….” (2 Corinthians 6:3, 7:2).

Why is there anything?

How did You come to be?

What’s up with dreams?

How do You keep track of all this?

What did the Garden on Eden look like?

What does the appendix do?

These are just a few of the questions I have for God. I plan to keep updating the list, from time to time. I have others, that don’t seem lofty enough for public display, but I plan to ask all the same.
My questions don’t offend God, because I seek the truth. There are many cases in the bible where the Pharisees and the Sadducees asked questions of Jesus. He never answered meekly. Read Mathew 23:1-39, if you think Jesus only spoke in hushed lets-all-get-along tones.

The Pharisees and the Sadducees were the keepers and interpreters of the religious law. They should have known best. Yet they used their positions to impose hardship and exact undue payments from the masses.

Jesus tolerant? Read again.

Their questions served only to set Him up for failure in His mission and to ridicule Him before the people. In spite of the miracles, the fulfillment of prophecy, the unparalleled wisdom, he was a challenge to their authority. They didn’t seek the truth. As a consequence, they didn’t receive it.

From multiple corners of my life, I have recently heard the same sentiment expressed:  I need to make the time I have left count. 

None of these people could tell you precisely how much time that is, but the responsibility to steward it well steeps in the heart of each.  It’s a nudging I feel myself, and every December, it becomes an elbow shot to the ribs.  As with every gift given by God, He will demand an accounting.

Did my words uplift?  Did my opinion speak truth?  Did the time I spend with that person bring me closer or further from You?  All good assessments of any encounter we have.

Christians, though, in particular, tend to think that they must spend every last shred on others.  Jesus certainly did.  But He knew the exact nature and timing of His mission on year.  I don’t know about you, but my orders aren’t nearly that clear. 

Call me selfish, but I need a little nurturing on occasion.  I need to retreat from the demands and wants and needs and expectations of others and go plug in somewhere that recharges.  Me. 

I think Jesus gave us permission to do this.  He routinely sought solace with his twelve to escape the madding crowd.  While it was no replacement to His relationship with the Father, these were His intimates.  They didn’t understand the real mission Jesus was on, but they loved Him and sought to do what they thought was best for Him. 

So, too, should we be with one another.  In all that we do or think or say, we must be mindful of what is best for the other one.  I’m less successful with the rude store clerk, but I’m getting better.

But the corollary is also true, I don’t want to spend intimate time with anyone that doesn’t seek to edify me.  There are always commitments in life that we must honor, no matter what, but I don’t need to invite mistreatment, or give it permission. 

I had a situation once where a person repeatedly snubbed by effort to converse by phone.  I quit calling.  It was unhealthy for me to keep trying.  I had called this person, after much prayer, and each time was rejected.  Jesus gave me the example for this too.  I kicked the dust off my sandals and moved on. 

He didn’t have time to waste.  Jesus, too, wanted every minute to count.

“Do you want me to throw you?” asked the thick-shouldered camp counselor.

Jacob shook his head no. “I don’t want my face in the water,” explained the five-year old.

The big man placed Jacob on his submerged knee and bounced the little boy up-and-down. A wide grin split Jacob’s face and giggles bubbled from the percolating pool water. Jacob tumbled backwards, but strong arms caught him before the water closed over his face. With the ruff and tumble play that kept the little boy safely above the water line, the counselor won Jacob’s trust.

The relationship between man and boy blossomed. When Jacob needed help cutting his chicken fried steak; When Jacob wanted to ask a question; When Jacob needed encouragement to jump from the tower–the man was there.

The last day of family camp, he gave Jacob one final hug.

Tears clogged my throat and threatened to drown me. He loved my boy. He knew, accepted and enjoyed my son.

When I embrace Jesus, does the Father’s heart swell with delight?

When I love His other children–the sales clerk at Michaels, the teen across the street, the grumpy bus driver–does God’s heart burst with gratitude?