just lazy

It’s really easy to read Proverbs and think of all the other people they apply to. I did that this morning when I read Proverbs 10:26: “As vinegar to the teeth and smoke to the eyes, so are sluggards to those who send them.”

Between my various military assignments and my current job in charge of four manufacturing plants, I’ve probably been responsible for a couple thousand subordinates over the years. I know firsthand how frustrating it is trying to urge lazy people to get work done. It’s like pushing a rope.

My smugness faded, though, as I thought about my work for God. How many times hasn’t he put something he wanted me to do right in my path and I walked around it on the way to what I wanted to do? How many times hasn’t he laid a need or a dream on my heart and I listened instead to all the “yeah-buts” in my head? How many service projects haven’t I sat out because I think I’m already doing a lot, I’m busy enough?

Truth is, I’m probably vinegar to God’s teeth and smoke to his eyes more often than I please him with my good work. When it comes to kingdom work, God might use an old Army term to describe me: ROAD. Retired On Active Duty.

I don’t want to be a sluggard. I don’t want to be lazy about the things of God. Am I? Maybe I’m too hard on myself, but a lot of days I think I am. But I can get better at this too. Mostly it will be about matching my priorities to God’s, which I should be doing anyway.

conflict

I remember a contentious discussion in council one time over a topic that was splitting our church. A wise elder made the point, “I’m sure there are some things Jesus would prioritize over unity among believers, but I don’t think there are very many and I doubt this is one of them.”

The author of Proverbs supported that viewpoint in Proverbs 6:16-19: “There are six things the Lord hates, seven that are detestable to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked schemes, feet that are quick to rush into evil, a false witness who pours out lies, and a person who stirs up conflict in the community.”

Stirring up conflict, according to these verses, is hated by God as much as pride, lying, violence, and wickedness. That’s how much he values unity.

That’s not to say we all have to agree. But it does suggest that we need to work out our disagreements in respectful ways that are inclusive and tend, in the end, to bind us together.

That’s a word directed at me. I’m no longer likely to get into arguments about things, or to grumble about leaders or decisions I don’t agree with. Oh, I do some of it, but not like I used to. These days, though, I’m likely just to turn my back on those people and ignore them. I go instead to those I agree with. 

I used to see that as more mature, as avoiding arguments. I wonder this morning if this too doesn’t contribute to conflict; maybe I’m not stirring it up, but I’m not doing much to calm it down either. 

The opposite of stirring up conflict is promoting unity. That means bringing people together. It means finding middle ground. It means ensuring that I treat everyone, even those I think are wrong, with respect and love. It means letting go of my certainty of my own rightness and listening openly, keeping in mind the possibility that the other person may be right.

Just letting the argument slide by seems like a cop-out. It’s going to be a lot harder to actually bring people together. But I think that’s what Christ-followers are supposed to do.

power

After 25 years as an Army Guardsman, I think I’m as patriotic as anyone. And I certainly am not squeamish about using our military. I believe God gave the sword to government to be used for just purposes.

But over the years I’ve come to see the topic more and more like God does. It’s a view that’s captured well in Psalm 147:10-11: “His pleasure is not in the strength of the horse, nor his delight in the legs of the warrior; the Lord delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love.”

God gets no pleasure out of any government’s use of the sword, much less individuals. We talk about the ability to project power, that is, to rapidly move our troops and ships around the world to make sure things go our way. God has no interest in that.

God changes the world through compassionate hearts and those who trust in him. God protects those who look to him. God doesn’t want me to share Stalin’s sneering dismissal of the Pope when he said, “How many divisions does he have?” It’s not those thousands of troops that will achieve what God is working on.

So these days I view the images of mighty warships and intimidating flights of warplanes with ambivalence. There’s a part of me that still swells with pride; part of me still responds to the tough-guy Army slogans like “We’re the thing that scares you in the night” or “Often mistaken for the wrath of God.”

But the more mature me recognizes that God’s wrath is most likely to fall on the physically powerful who wantonly destroy. Even though God gave the sword to government, I’m not sure God personally uses armies to do his will. He permits them as a means for nations to deter evil, but God seems to prefer changing Taliban hearts and turning them to Gospel-bringers, as my missionary brother has seen him do. I think God wants to save souls, not kill them.

At a minimum, I need to realize that what God wants of me personally is to put my hope in him instead of the US and it’s military. I need to trust God instead of wanting to give Christians political power as a path to revival. I need to see that my prayers will do far more than anything anyone ever accomplished with a weapon.

for peace

Psa 120:6-7 Too long have I lived among those who hate peace. I am for peace; but when I speak, they are for war.

This verse reminds me of a Military Ethics class I took as part of my officer training. I argued against forcing enemy PWs to clear a path through minefields by walking ahead of our soldiers. I thought that even in the use of military power, we needed to be working toward a state of peace. I was the only one, and after class two others cornered me and told me if I was such a wuss I didn’t belong in the Infantry. 

This verse also reminds me of the scorched-earth approach we take to dialogue these days. We no longer seek to persuade; we don’t try to find middle ground. On even the most minor points, it seems, what we really want is to annihilate the opposing view, to overwhelm the people who hold it and burn down the last vestige of their moronic ideas. If we can’t argue their logic, we attack their credibility, or even question their intelligence. It’s even a favored tactic of one of our Presidential candidates.

It seems that many of my friends and co-workers have an endless willingness to fight. Many like me are weary of it; for us this verse resonates.

That’s why we can’t ignore the rest of Psalm 120. The psalmist is calling out to God. He sees how hard it is to keep to the way of peace when everyone else is on the warpath. And he knows that God can not only soothe and affirm his peaceful heart, but God can also change the hearts of those around him.

That’s my challenge: to pray for changed hearts. Because I’m like everyone else: I just want those dumb fighters to be defeated by my superior thinking. Instead, I should want them to hear Jesus, and to follow the Prince of Peace.

good will come

It’s hard to give. Money or time, we always have less than we wish we did. But it struck me this morning that in times like these, that’s by far the best thing for us to do.

Psalms 112:4 says this: “Even in darkness light dawns for the upright, for those who are gracious and compassionate and righteous. Good will come to those who are generous and lend freely, who conduct their affairs with justice.”

I’ve always given for the normal reasons: Because people need help, because I know I should, sometimes because I feel grateful and want to give back. And those are good reasons. The problem with those reasons, though, is they inevitably lead me to want to have some way to know the person or cause I’m giving to deserves it.

This verse suggests that my spirit of generosity is the thing that will keep me secure in troubled times. Times like right now, when society seems to be getting ever more violent, culture becomes ever more permissive, and the moral authority of our leadership ever more compromised. There’s a lot in this world right now that is dark.

This Psalm promises light in this darkness for gracious, compassionate, righteous people. It promises good things even in bad times for people who are generous and fair.

Could it be that simple? Instead of a grand crusade to capture political power, or to roll back the tide on moral issues, could it be that all I really need to do is be the kind of thoughtful, helpful person I want to be anyway?

Simple, yes, but hard too. This verse doesn’t say the darkness goes away, it says I’ll have light in the darkness. Still, it’s a different way of thinking about what a principled life looks like these days. And that’s a topic we should all be thinking about.

pondering

Psalm 111​:1 Praise the Lord. I will extol the Lord with all my heart in the council of the upright and in the assembly. Great are the works of the Lord; they are pondered by all who delight in them.

Ponder is an interesting word. According to various dictionaries, it means to think deeply about something, to consider it from every angle, even to meditate about it. Using those definitions, I wonder, based on the verse above, if I can really claim to delight the the great works of the Lord.

You see, I can’t claim really to think deeply about them, unless I happen to be working on a sermon. I know what it is to ponder something; I’ve pondered the tactical and strategic lessons of past battles, the subtle differences between warbler species, the best way to build a deck. I’m familiar with that feeling of being so engrossed in something that my mind returns to it constantly.

And yet, I can’t really remember when some work of God occupied my mind like that. I’m aware of the great things he did for his people as recorded in scripture. I’m even more familiar with the things he’s done for me personally. Yet I tend to give these things momentary thought, enough time for a prayer or a song, and then my mind is on to other, more engaging topics.

That suggests that my relationship with God is in some way less interesting or less important, or maybe just less immediate, than my passion for military history, my enjoyment of birding, or my interest in making a nice home for myself. Or any of a half-dozen other things that fill my days.

This is a problem that won’t be solved just by devoting time to it. I think the sequence in the verse is delight first, which leads to pondering. I can force myself to think about God, but will that produce delight in him? How do I generate delight in God, so that I naturally ponder his works?

I don’t know the answer, but I’m reminded of what a former pastor used to say about what to do if you don’t love your spouse. “Act as if you do,” he would say. “Eventually, you will.” Maybe there’s something there that will help. Or maybe the first thing I need to ponder is why Jesus sacrificed himself for someone so disinterested as me.

act justly

Justice is hard. Or maybe I just make it that way.

Psalm 106 really challenged me this morning. It started with verse 3, which reads, “Blessed are those who act justly, who always do what is right.” At first I felt pretty good about that, because I think I’m a just and fair person.

But as I considered things, I realized that I’m good at knowing the right thing to do when the situation involves strangers. Closer to home, though, I want to give a pass to my family, my friends, myself. Then the right thing quickly gives way to what I call mercy but is probably really just wanting life to be easy.

I wondered why that is, and then the Psalmist helped me out. After a long recitation of the history of the Israelites, he got to verses 35 and 36: “. . . but they mingled with the nations and adopted their customs. They worshiped their idols, which became a snare to them.”

That’s why! When I, or people I like, do those things I know aren’t right but want to excuse anyway, it’s usually one of those go-along-to-get-along things. The culture permits and encourages things that God calls sin, so we conform to our surroundings by doing them. Then, to compound things, I would rather not be the judgmental person that society equates with Christianity.

Have I mingled with the culture to the point that I’ve adopted their customs and worship their idols? I don’t want to think so, but I do live a lot like everyone around me. And when you try to live right on the line of what’s permissible, you will inevitably step over at some point.

My conclusion: Justice is hard for me because I look at right and wrong through the eyes of culture as much as scripture. Even though my heart screams that things are wrong, it also longs to belong. I don’t want society to exclude me because I’m prudish or rigid or intolerant.

It’s no wonder that at the end of this Psalm the author cries out, “Save us, O Lord!” But for the grace of God, I would be lost to this world.