How do you measure greatness?
How do you decide when a man or woman deserves that accolade?
Do they have to be the fastest? The strongest? The richest? The most talented? The most powerful? Do they have to have the most influence, or get the most votes?
How do we measure greatness?
I’ve been reflecting on this as I ponder the death of my Grandpa Ed. Ed was not great as the world reckons greatness, but he was a great man.
Ed was born far from the corridors of power and lived his entire life outside the spotlight. It is not that there were no accomplishments or moments of glory. He started with very little and ended up with more than most. Along the way there were numerous awards and achievements. But it seems to me that greatness should be measured across the span of one’s life, rather than viewing a life through the narrow lens of a single event or accomplishment.
I call him a great man because of the innumerable small choices he made every day, because the sum total of those choices amounted to a life well lived and an incredible legacy, worthy of emulation.
Through these small choices, he lived a quiet life, minding his own business, working with his hands and living a daily life that was worthy of respect, not being dependent on anyone. (1 Thes. 4:9-12) It is said that your greatest strength can be your greatest weakness. This was true of Ed’s desire for independence.
His tough early years produced toughness in Ed. He did not like to be dependent on anyone, which served him well in most aspects of his life. The area where it may have hindered him most was in his relationship with God.
But eventually, Ed grew to recognize that dependence on God was not a risk, but a joy. It wasn’t until 1997 that he fully gave himself to Jesus, and was baptized at the age of 76. Even at that late stage, the change of heart was evident to those who knew him well, as greater gentleness and kindness were added to his character.
As I view his life, I see a man who lived well...who loved well. He loved his wife with passion and faithfulness for 71 years, a feat few accomplish. He provided for his family. He was generous and humble. He played the hand dealt him, without complaining; making the best life he could out of the circumstances thrust upon him.
Ed played his small role in the grand story. His role was not huge, but he played it to the hilt. He did what God required of Him. He ran the race with endurance and has finished well. He is now safely home, free and whole in body, mind, and heart.
He leaves behind him a legacy of love. The world is a better place because Ed was in it. He was a son, a brother, a husband, a father, a grandfather, and more. He was not a perfect man, but he was a good man. He won’t make it into the history books, but that does not mean that he was not great.
Few who truly shape history are listed in the books. The generals are listed, but the foot soldiers do the real fighting. Ed was one of the great foot soldiers of history; a truly great man who achieved innumerable small victories in the larger battle. Let those who come after him note his life and passing. May we, who are his legacy, follow his example.
Showing posts with label blessing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blessing. Show all posts
Friday, May 10, 2013
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
The Advent of Interruption
Nobody expected God to come.
Sure, there were the old prophecies and the vague hope for a messiah someday, but no one was expecting God to break through and actively involve Himself in and through the lives or ordinary people.
Zechariah was minding his own business in the temple when he was interrupted by an angel. Even after the angel told him who he was and what was going to happen, Zechariah still incredulously asked for proof.
Mary wasn't expecting an angelic visitation, let alone a divine pregnancy, an immaculate conception. She neither asked for nor expected this invasive interruption of her plans.
Joseph wasn't anticipating his virgin bride to fall pregnant until after the wedding. Upon discovering her unwelcome interruption, he immediately set about to do what any self-respecting, God fearing man would do, break off the engagement with his shameful betrothed. Only another angelic visitation in his sleep convinced him to change his plans and adopt the Son of God as his own son.
The Magi were not sure what to expect as the stars told them a surprising tale of the King of the Jews to be born in a distant land. They stepped forward into their journey with an uninformed but sincere faith to see where the star might lead them, prepared to worship the as yet unborn King wherever they might find him. The most obvious place to search was at the palace.
King Herod certainly wasn't expecting to have to deal with a new threat to his rule. He had effectively eliminated all who he perceived as a threat, not even sparing his own family. He was not expecting the inconvenience of a messiah, of The Messiah. The arrival of the magi was an interruption that he could do without.
The scribes and teachers of the law who told Herod where the messiah would be born, in lowly Bethlehem, were not expecting it to happen in their day. Even the arrival of the strange magi from the east and Herod's cryptic inquiry were not enough to pique their interest. They evidently couldn't be bothered to follow up on the lead they provided and went about their business, not terribly curious about an apparent messiah in their midst.
The shepherds certainly weren't expecting an angelic visitation, let alone a heavenly invasion with the armies of heaven appearing before them and breaking into song on that evening in the wilds of Judea. Minding their own business, tending sheep, perhaps picking fleas from their cloaks or swapping stories around the fire, when they were terrified by the heavenly ambush.
No one was expecting God to interrupt their lives with good news of great joy. No one was expecting to be used by God to accomplish His marvelous purposes in history. At just the right time, although no one expected him, and few welcomed him, He came among us through the lives of ordinary people.
He does the same thing today.
Are you ready to be interrupted?
Sure, there were the old prophecies and the vague hope for a messiah someday, but no one was expecting God to break through and actively involve Himself in and through the lives or ordinary people.
Zechariah was minding his own business in the temple when he was interrupted by an angel. Even after the angel told him who he was and what was going to happen, Zechariah still incredulously asked for proof.
Mary wasn't expecting an angelic visitation, let alone a divine pregnancy, an immaculate conception. She neither asked for nor expected this invasive interruption of her plans.
Joseph wasn't anticipating his virgin bride to fall pregnant until after the wedding. Upon discovering her unwelcome interruption, he immediately set about to do what any self-respecting, God fearing man would do, break off the engagement with his shameful betrothed. Only another angelic visitation in his sleep convinced him to change his plans and adopt the Son of God as his own son.
The Magi were not sure what to expect as the stars told them a surprising tale of the King of the Jews to be born in a distant land. They stepped forward into their journey with an uninformed but sincere faith to see where the star might lead them, prepared to worship the as yet unborn King wherever they might find him. The most obvious place to search was at the palace.
King Herod certainly wasn't expecting to have to deal with a new threat to his rule. He had effectively eliminated all who he perceived as a threat, not even sparing his own family. He was not expecting the inconvenience of a messiah, of The Messiah. The arrival of the magi was an interruption that he could do without.
The scribes and teachers of the law who told Herod where the messiah would be born, in lowly Bethlehem, were not expecting it to happen in their day. Even the arrival of the strange magi from the east and Herod's cryptic inquiry were not enough to pique their interest. They evidently couldn't be bothered to follow up on the lead they provided and went about their business, not terribly curious about an apparent messiah in their midst.
The shepherds certainly weren't expecting an angelic visitation, let alone a heavenly invasion with the armies of heaven appearing before them and breaking into song on that evening in the wilds of Judea. Minding their own business, tending sheep, perhaps picking fleas from their cloaks or swapping stories around the fire, when they were terrified by the heavenly ambush.
No one was expecting God to interrupt their lives with good news of great joy. No one was expecting to be used by God to accomplish His marvelous purposes in history. At just the right time, although no one expected him, and few welcomed him, He came among us through the lives of ordinary people.
He does the same thing today.
Are you ready to be interrupted?
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Ministering to the Lord
As I read this morning, I was struck by this phrase, "bless the Lord". It sounds strange in my ears. "The Lord is the source of blessing," I thought. "He does not need to be blessed." Then I remembered the phrase "ministering to the Lord." I looked it up and found that it occurs several places in the Scriptures.
As I pondered this, I wondered why it sounds strange to me. ministering to the Lord and blessing the Lord were important, even central, aspects of the life of faith in the Old and New Testament periods. Why do they sound so strange to me?
Then I realized that we have exchanged "ministering to the Lord" with "ministry for the Lord." We have subtly moved God out of the center and moved the focus of our lives onto the work. This new perspective puts us at the center. It is a way of subtly exalting ourselves and what we can do for Him. It puts the focus on us, or perhaps on "the lost". We wrap our idolatry up in spiritual sounding language.
He invites us to minister to Him, to bless Him, to enter into real relationship with Him. Then, He does the work. He does the saving. He does the ministering. From that place of humility and dependence He sets us aside for the work that He has for us (Acts 13). We tend to identify what we think we should be done and to ask Him to empower our plans, our methodologies, and our efforts. Then, as our plans succeed, we praise the Lord while siphoning of some of the glory for ourselves because we were the ones doing the ministering.
We need to recover the centrality of God. We need to place Him at the center. We need to focus our lives on ministering to Him rather than for Him. I choose this again today. I choose to wait on the Lord. I choose to bless the Lord. I choose to minister to the Lord.
As I pondered this, I wondered why it sounds strange to me. ministering to the Lord and blessing the Lord were important, even central, aspects of the life of faith in the Old and New Testament periods. Why do they sound so strange to me?
Then I realized that we have exchanged "ministering to the Lord" with "ministry for the Lord." We have subtly moved God out of the center and moved the focus of our lives onto the work. This new perspective puts us at the center. It is a way of subtly exalting ourselves and what we can do for Him. It puts the focus on us, or perhaps on "the lost". We wrap our idolatry up in spiritual sounding language.
He invites us to minister to Him, to bless Him, to enter into real relationship with Him. Then, He does the work. He does the saving. He does the ministering. From that place of humility and dependence He sets us aside for the work that He has for us (Acts 13). We tend to identify what we think we should be done and to ask Him to empower our plans, our methodologies, and our efforts. Then, as our plans succeed, we praise the Lord while siphoning of some of the glory for ourselves because we were the ones doing the ministering.
We need to recover the centrality of God. We need to place Him at the center. We need to focus our lives on ministering to Him rather than for Him. I choose this again today. I choose to wait on the Lord. I choose to bless the Lord. I choose to minister to the Lord.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Gifts and Brussel Sprouts
One of the interesting things about serving the Lord is the seeming delight He takes in surprising us. Sometimes these are sweet surprises, unexpected blessings or gifts that we are eager to unwrap. However, there are times when these “gifts” don’t feel quite as much like presents, but more like someone stuck some brussel sprouts onto our plate when we weren’t looking. I remember as a kid sometimes reaching over and skewering an olive or other attractive morsel from my brother’s plate when he was distracted, but I’m certain I never swiped a brussel sprout.
It is interesting how quick we are to name gifts and trials, blessings and curses. I know that I label them based on my most immediate experience of them. If the thing feels good or I experience it as fun then it must be a gift, a blessing, God is smiling down on me. If the thing is painful or I feel anxious or afraid then it is a trial or even a curse, God is distant or frowning at me. Of course, hindsight often changes our perspective on things. After the immediate has passed, we can view the results with more objectivity. Sometimes in those moments we have a sort of epiphany and realize that the thing we called as curse was really a blessing in disguise. A gift wrapped in pain or frustration.
I wonder what my experience of life would be if I really believed that everything, absolutely everything, was really under the control, the absolute control, of a being that loves me and cares for me even more and better than I love and care for my kids? I am not saying that pain and suffering would cease. These things will be with us until the end of the world. But if I really believed that God was in charge of pain and suffering, perhaps I could endure them as a necessary part of my training. I remember a coach in high school who pushed us to run until it hurt and then to run some more. He knew that we were capable of more than we thought we were able to do. He pushed us past the end of ourselves and we discovered something beyond the last frontier of endurance.
If everything really comes from my loving Father God, then perhaps the suffering is not simply meaningless pain, but is redemptive. Perhaps there is a redeeming value, a redeeming purpose in it. Perhaps God, like the coach, knows something that I don't know. One of the miracles of the incarnation is that God actually knows our pain. He learned through His own suffering. So, when He sovereignly surprises us with suffering He knows what it means; He has been there and done that. Somehow viewing it from this perspective makes it more bearable even if it is still unpalatable. I won't be looking for pain any more than I'll be surreptitiously skewering brussel sprouts, but perhaps I can stop muttering against the chef.
It is interesting how quick we are to name gifts and trials, blessings and curses. I know that I label them based on my most immediate experience of them. If the thing feels good or I experience it as fun then it must be a gift, a blessing, God is smiling down on me. If the thing is painful or I feel anxious or afraid then it is a trial or even a curse, God is distant or frowning at me. Of course, hindsight often changes our perspective on things. After the immediate has passed, we can view the results with more objectivity. Sometimes in those moments we have a sort of epiphany and realize that the thing we called as curse was really a blessing in disguise. A gift wrapped in pain or frustration.
I wonder what my experience of life would be if I really believed that everything, absolutely everything, was really under the control, the absolute control, of a being that loves me and cares for me even more and better than I love and care for my kids? I am not saying that pain and suffering would cease. These things will be with us until the end of the world. But if I really believed that God was in charge of pain and suffering, perhaps I could endure them as a necessary part of my training. I remember a coach in high school who pushed us to run until it hurt and then to run some more. He knew that we were capable of more than we thought we were able to do. He pushed us past the end of ourselves and we discovered something beyond the last frontier of endurance.
If everything really comes from my loving Father God, then perhaps the suffering is not simply meaningless pain, but is redemptive. Perhaps there is a redeeming value, a redeeming purpose in it. Perhaps God, like the coach, knows something that I don't know. One of the miracles of the incarnation is that God actually knows our pain. He learned through His own suffering. So, when He sovereignly surprises us with suffering He knows what it means; He has been there and done that. Somehow viewing it from this perspective makes it more bearable even if it is still unpalatable. I won't be looking for pain any more than I'll be surreptitiously skewering brussel sprouts, but perhaps I can stop muttering against the chef.
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