Shame, Judgment, and a Crib Sheet

Rules without mercy have disappointing results.

I work with engineers. Their logical bent is sometimes challenging, but so very often proves useful. In their honor, I’ve included the following IF/THEN statement.

IF life is a test AND faith is required for a passing score,
THEN legalism could be a sign of insufficient faith
BECAUSE rules seem easier. Rules are a crib sheet approach to passing the exam. 

At study tonight, we discussed favoritism. It’s unwelcome in Christianity. It exists, but according to James 2, it oughtn’t. The example James gave was giving the best to the wealthy and giving little or nothing to the poor.

A brief 45 years ago, I was in a local high school production of Godspell. One of the numbers in the show is “All for the Best”. Amazingly, I nearly remember the lyrics correctly to this day. As it discusses the plight of the poor versus the rich (and because I’d like to believe the lyrics have caromed from one brain cell to another within my cranium for a higher purpose), I give them to you now. 

JESUS: When you feel sad or under a curse; your life is bad, your prospects are worse. Your wife is crying, sighing, and your olive tree is dying. Temples are graying, and teeth are decaying, creditors weighing your purse. Your mood and your robe are both a deep blue. You’d bet that Job had nothing on you. Ah, don’t forget that when you go to heaven you’ll be blessed! Yes, it’s all for the best.

JUDAS & ENSEMBLE: Some men are born to live at ease, doing what they please, richer than the bees are in honey. Never growing old, never feeling cold, pulling pots of gold from thin air. They get the best in every town, best at shaking down, best at making mountains of money. (They can't take it with them, but what do they care?) They get the center of the meat, cushions on the seat, houses on the street where it's sunny. Summers at the sea, winters warm and free, all of this and we get the rest. But who is the land for, the sun and the sand for? You guessed, it's all for the … 

JESUS: You must never be distressed

JUDAS & ENSEMBLE: Yes, it's all for the … 

JESUS: All your wrongs will be redressed

JUDAS & ENSEMBLE: Yes, it's all for the … [

JUDAS: Someone's got to be oppressed.

ENSEMBLE: Yes, it's all for the best!

James admonished his audience to not show favoritism to the wealthy, those people Judas described in the song. Why would the wealthy be treated preferentially? Well, I can think of a couple of reasons, but they have more to do with selfish gain than spiritual investment. 

The Christian ideal, and the task we’ve been set, is to treat everybody impartially. We are to emulate Jesus and treat people with dignity, compassion, and mercy. We get off track when we first weigh the question, “What’s in it for me?” 

When James’ audience favored the rich, he pointed out to them, “… you have dishonored the poor.” Then he asked “Is it not the rich who are exploiting you? Are they not the ones who are dragging you into court? ⁷ Are they not the ones who are blaspheming the noble name of him to whom you belong?” In effect, he said, “You’re feeding the hand that bites you!”

Uncomfortably, we Christians often are labeled as hypocrites because we expect people to play by “the rules” (not their rules, but ours, if they are not already Christians), which often are an unwieldy blend of Old Testament commands and man-made expectations. Sometimes it’s an accurate accusation. 

Within the Church, the universal body of Christ, a rules-base theology is called legalism. As an expression of Christian faith, legalism is particularly unfortunate because the crux of Christianity, Jesus Christ, came and purchased our indebtedness to these very rules with His life. 

Please note that Jesus did not erase the law, but came to fulfill it. Therefore, James reminds us to, “Speak and act as those who are going to be judged by the law that gives freedom, because judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who has not been merciful. Mercy triumphs over judgment. (James 2:12-13)

This distinction is important because there still will be a judgment. It’s something we all have in common. Leave here, go there (wherever there is), and find our lives and actions weighed. One factor that will be weighed is the way that we treat others. Were we merciful? Did we show grace? This begins to sound suspiciously like a parable, doesn’t it? A servant was forgiven a debt or action, then turned and dealt harshly with others. Bummer, right? Well, it’s mean, but it has more eternal consequences, “because judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who has not been merciful”. 

Finally, we’re at the point where we began.

Imagine our lives are tests of our ability to develop faith in our Creator and to live out that faith in accordance with scriptures. 

In my career, I’ve seen that a lack of confidence in one’s actions may result in an unhealthy, highly literal reliance on rules of some sort. Practitioners of a specific discipline can see the spirit of a written rule. A person who is not immersed in that discipline has only the rule. Their application of that rule will be literal because it’s all they have to rely on. Ironically, the people least qualified to make judgments reliably end up appointed as “rule enforcers”. Obviously, somebody prayed for patience and we’re all reaping that harvest.

If we’re immersed in our relationship with Jesus, we’ll be nurturing that relationship. Our lives will be an expression of our faith. Our focus will be so intent that we will not feel we have time or energy to enforce rules. Instead, we’ll want to treat others the way Jesus did--and the way we would want to be treated.

If, however, our faith is not being fully developed, we may become reliant on the rules. We believe enough to rely on scripture, but not faith. The rules seem easier. There they are in front of us. We can easily point them out to people who aren’t doing them as we see fit. And we can tell ourselves that we’re doing God’s will. We’re holding the spiritual purse and dispensing valuable insight about a Creator who is still more an acquaintance than somebody with whom we have invested our full faith.

Meanwhile, if we are legalists, we are a Public Relations nightmare for a belief system that is fully relational. We forecast doom, erode hope, and erect barriers. We are bellicose. Question the rules and you’ve threatened the foundation of our faith. Unfortunately for us, and most lives we touch, we are also stinting with mercy and compassion.

As practicing Christians, much as we might like to grab legalists’ collective collars and see if a good shaking would help, a more likely solution is to love them. We need to keep living out our faith and shower them with the love of Christ as we’ve experienced it. Forgive. Love. Embrace. And quickly intervene if we see them talking to visitors.

Upon Closer Observation: Love Encourages Rampant Curiosity

My sister and I met Will today and admired his life’s work. He’d been at it since he turned 15, and in completing that work he marveled at the complexity, beauty, and uniqueness of his favorite subject. Will loved snowflakes. He loved their structure. He loved the variety of shapes he found. He loved capturing them and sharing them with people who were special to him.

My sister Beth had met Will before. Thankfully, she introduced us. You see, Will was born not far from a place we are visiting in Vermont. Despite the expense, his parents bought him a microscope as a gift one year. It was a good choice, because Will wasn’t like many of the other boys. He wasn’t interested in sports, but he was curious. He never married, but he was a problem solver. 

Will was particularly curious about frozen precipitation, but found it difficult to capture images of it because it so quickly thawed. He solved the problem with black velvet. He caught the snowflake on a swatch of black velvet, then took that wonderful microscope and a bellows camera and continued trying things until he had captured images that met his standards. Along the way, he learned that there is no repetition in snowflakes. 

Because of his abiding curiosity, Will asked himself ”Why?” Why are there so many shapes? What causes different types of crystallized precipitation to form? 

In describing his pursuit of a subject many would disregard, Will said, “Every crystal was a masterpiece of design and no one design was ever repeated.” He also said, “When a snowflake melted, that design was forever lost. Just that much beauty was gone, leaving no record behind.” Who cares like that?

I saw a chart Will created. It showed what shapes occur in snowflakes in different temperatures. The range went to -40 degrees Fahrenheit. Would you pursue your research under those conditions? Will was very committed to his work.

You really must see Will’s photographs. You cannot look at them without admiring the intricacy of a snowflake. Not just the entire flake, but even a piece of the core is fascinating. Today’s layman has much better tools available. Stronger magnification would reveal even more about the composition of the center of a snowflake. Where does that pattern end? Maybe you could adopt Will’s passion and carry on his research.

Beth pointed out this to me: Will’s mother didn’t overlook his difference; she encouraged it. You see, she educated him. She saw how he differed from others and she equipped him to follow his own path. She didn’t try to make him fit the norm. Because of her, we have glimpses of her son marveling at Nature. We also have a wealth of evidence supporting Will’s observations.

My niece Emily says, “Will reminds me of of my students with Autism. They loved to share and talk about their passions. They had the unique ability to learn the intricacies of their interests with meticulous focus that I couldn’t help but admire.” Will had a special ability to detect patterns, with interest in both snowflakes and spider webs because of their star-like shapes.

I don’t talk with Will. One reason is that, even though I’m curious and inspired by his work, I don’t think I could maintain a conversation that would accommodate his zeal. Another reason is that Will left us nearly sixty years before I was born. 

Imagine doing all he did by carrying heavy equipment outside, dealing with the elements, and exposing and developing glass plates. It’s a level of dedication I hope we all can muster about something in our own lives.

Even if you or I aren’t that devoted to any one topic, I suspect we know somebody who is. Let’s encourage them. Like Will’s mother, let’s offer support. Let’s set aside our convictions about what we know and marvel with them. Let’s let them be our teachers. 

For more, see:

Smithsonian Institution Archives Article - Wilson A. Bentley: Pioneering Photographer of Snowflakes

Why do I Think Wilson Alwyn "Snowflake" Bentley, the First Photographer of Snowflakes, Was Autistic?

Wikipedia: Wilson Bentley

Balance of Time

Time is an allowance. It arrives in a sealed envelope delivered by an accountant. We are not permitted to open the envelope, but we’re told, “You must spend the contents of this envelope down to the final second.” 

“But how will I know …?”

“Your accountant knows and will tell you when it is all gone.”

So, we meet people and we learn things and it all takes time. We know the envelope is getting lighter, but we never know what’s left. 

Spending Patterns

We spend our time getting better at things we enjoy. We spend some in conversations, getting to know people better. We spend some in silly arguments. We spend some in confrontations for very good reasons, trying to make space for justice, fairness, or to erase ignorance. We spend some in resting and some to be entertained. We spend so much at work, trying to provide for ourselves, our families, or others. We probably spend our time a lot like we spend our money.

As we become involved in more lives and in more activities, we find that people have firm ideas about how we allocate our time. Part of it is theirs, they feel. And they guard it jealously. 

We, meanwhile, try to keep things in balance, but we learn that achieving balance is costly. Our time is finite. Each activity in our life has its own account, one which we must fill by drawing on another account. So, the balance may be all out of kilter. 

The “balance” we create is an appropriation of time that permits us the conceit of feeling in charge of our moments even as we create deficits that will later haunt us. We draw from the family account to cover expenses in the work account. After we top off our recreation accounts, we realize we no longer have strong balances in the accounts that would have allowed us to make a difference around us.

Many of us share an attitude with our government. We’ll just make more. Out of money? No problem. Print more. 

We think we can do the same. “I need to make more  time to …” The difference is that our Government tries to solve its money problems with time. We try to solve our time problems with money. We buy gadgets, supplements, organic foods, and things intended to provide security in hopes of extending our lives. Our lives aren’t ours to extend. What we have is in the envelope, the allowance with the mystery balance.

Handle with Care

It’s all in the envelope. It was delivered to us at conception, when we were totally focused on taking and survival. 

If you’re reading this, you’ve grown, aged, and your sphere of influence has vastly expanded. So have your choices. You can maintain that fetal attitude and reserve all your time for yourself, you can continue to fill the work account in hopes that your retirement account lasts as long as you do. You can divert more time to service, creating beauty, or bringing brilliant ideas to fruition. 

I’m not advocating any particular approach, but we often step back to consider our financial picture. Why not do the same with our temporal picture? It could be long overdue for adjustment. 

I’ve kept you long enough. Your envelope is that much lighter now. Think about it. I hope you make the absolute most of your time.

A Thank-You Letter

 Local pride in a small town includes sports at every level. Parents and grandparents spend a lot of time in bleachers or along sidelines watching their favorite players being introduced to and growing through athletics. A case in point: high school girls basketball. They were great fun to watch and listen to this year. Our public high school girls made it through a tough sectional and represented us in regional semi-state competition. This letter was a thank-you to a fine group of young ladies who did a great job.

To Our Lady Hatchets,

Wow. I hope you realize just how proud we in Washington are of you. 

Change is difficult enough when we change by choice. It’s hard work. 

To be surprised by change, then respond with a new game plan, is even more difficult. It tests your character, demanding you to step into leadership and make things happen. 

There’s more. You may just want to play basketball. We ask you to go beyond that. To us, you’re not just high schoolers. You’re ambassadors representing our small town to the rest of the state. As odd as it may sound and feel, you’re also heroes. Kids in elementary and junior high school look up to you. They watch you and want to do what you do. College students and adults watch as well. As you’ve done well, we’ve renewed our pride in this community and we’ve remembered juggling studies and extra-curricular activities and shaping who we’d become. You’re in an exciting time of life.

Today, you met the challenge of change head on. You revised your strategy. You played like the remarkable team we’ve watched or listened to all year. You made our hearts race. You did things we wish we could do. Your opponent scored more points this morning, but I believe you won in more important ways and have proven things about yourselves you didn’t really know for sure.

Thank you for all your hard work and preparation. Thank you for digging deeply and rising to challenges. Thank you for your inspiration. Please be as proud of yourselves as we are of you. 

All the very best,

Dave (and probably quite a few of the people around you)

Liver, Onions, Spinach, and Thanks

2.5 inches. Looking back, you may wonder what made the difference and led you to where you are. For us, it was 2.5 inches.

We planned a non-traditional Thanksgiving this year. 2020 has had a few curves and even a knuckleball or two. So we decided to limit the preparation time and have a meal of steak, baked potatoes, and a nice salad. It would be no great fuss for anybody involved. Then our plans were altered. One of our party of four became symptomatic for a virus that has become widespread, if not popular.

Since our fourth for an afternoon of bridge was temporarily out of commission and we agreed that mingling would be a poor notion, we found ourselves on the hook for our own meal planning. We still didn’t want to do the turkey or ham thing. Way too much bother when we wanted to focus on thankfulness. But what to do? We had no good ideas, then we discovered a gap in the freezer door of the downstairs refrigerator. If you think it was about a 2.5-inch gap, you’re already a step ahead of me.

Stuff that should be stiff had become squishy. This led to a post-breakfast meal of shrimp yesterday, because why not? It was toss it or eat it and half of our household has a horrible aversion to food waste. That aversion caused Steckler’s Grass-fed Beef Liver to become the centerpiece of our plates today. I cried. Not from happiness. It was because my wife made me slice a very large, pungent onion to cook with the liver. Some thawing spinach found its way onto the menu and we rounded it out with instant brown rice and mixed olives.

Success. We eschewed tradition in a big way. Our only concession was using the good plates because my Mrs. wanted to take a photo of the meal before we began. 

Do I like liver and onions? Not a bunch. Do I like olives? Not much more than I care for liver and onions. Do I like spinach? Ah. You’ve found me out. Swimming in apple cider vinegar, given my choice. But today it was sort of plopped onto the plate and we called it a day. 

Despite the menu comprising foods that foster ambivalence, I admit I enjoyed it. So much so that I wiped up all the bits with a well-buttered slice of sourdough bread. And I genuinely am thankful for a gap in the seal of the freezer door. A 2.5-inch column of invading air brought us surprise, creativity, relaxed preparation, quick cleanup, and a story worth sharing with our friends.

May all your mishaps be as rewarding.

November Stars

Our ears are filled by the noisy ones, our vision consumed by brightness.

During the day the sun holds sway and we rarely hear the quietness.

But when our sun moves away, other worlds' suns draw patterns in our skies.

The din subsides, we now hear peace. We see truth with our eyes.

Nothing has changed. These stars were all there when we all were blinded by light.

To see it all, embrace the chill. Step into a November night.

The Moment

Do you have trouble being in the moment, too? Most daily events for me are chores that fall along a timeline. First, this. Next, that. Even as I’m doing one thing, my head is into the next item to be completed and struck from the list. This is even true when I’m supposed to be relaxing. How did I ever learn to do this “in the moment” stuff so incorrectly?

We have a dog. A puppy. One blessing of owning a dog (which may be the opposite of the truth) is that its human must occasionally take it beyond the threshold of the home. It prevents cleanups, the pet appreciates it, and the change of air is probably beneficial. We’ve only had our dog since late Spring, so check back. I may feel differently mid-Winter. But, we were talking about the moment.

Our dog IJ and I were outside early one morning. She was sniffing things, digging in the flower beds (bad dog), and turning a stick blown from a large maple tree into kindling. I was sitting on a nearby step mulling over the day. You know, thinking ahead.

I suspect we were outside fifteen minutes or more when I realized it was getting lighter. Birds were either chirping or giving voice to song. The leaves on our large tree were rustled by the wind. There was a ballet in the yard with dancers dressed in golden costumes romping and cavorting in the breeze. I’m not sure cavorting is even legal in this state. 

A Different Tree, but How About that Color!?

I stood and looked to the west as a brilliant sunrise crested the horizon and created a blaze of color in the tops of distant trees. I admired the beauty and continued listening. 

Automobile doors clunked closed and engines ground into life as neighbors left home to deliver children to school or to go to work. And still the wind stirred the leaves into a lulling sound, a Midwestern version of surf. 

IJ startled, then bounded into action as she chased first one leaf then another across the yard. How can a body go from inactive to frenetic so quickly? I left the moment with the realization that I’ve been missing awareness like this. 

I have friends who regularly travel to state or national parks to hike. I suspect they are thoughtfully positioning themselves to “be”. 

I want to learn to slip into this mindset more easily and more often. When I’m alone. When I’m with family and friends. When I’m in conversation. I want to intentionally let go of the handlebars of my life and be guided and carried by something or Someone with a much larger perspective. I know Who and What that is for me. I wish it for you as well.