The Pitfalls of Self-Service

Nothing in existence since the creation of man has proven more corrosive than one word.  In fact, this particular word has served as the platform for every war that has ever been fought or will ever be.  It has a hand in every divorce and contributes to the demise of numerous friendships and alliances around the world.  It doesn’t matter the nationality, culture, class or caste; all have fallen victim to the fruit of its subjective vine! It tends to be self-serving and finds nurture within the field of self-interest.  It evolves around “me” and “mine” and is driven by the spirit of self-importance.

When I was a boy around 6 or 7 years of age, my best friend and I would get into knock-down drag-out fights on a regular basis.  We would literally beat the tar out of each other while calling the other every profane name our minds could imagine or mouths dared vocalize.  If I gave them line space here I would be banished from every Christian church for the remainder of my adult life.  If my mother read my words it would forever change the way she views me and my childhood!  However, we were just kids and didn’t know anything about anything.  Not having reached the “age of accountability” we were not held responsible for what we did or said (looking back I wish I had a firm understanding of that concept.  I would have done way more!).  At some point, while the bruises were still healing and the pride subsided one of us would call the other, bury the hatchet, and get on with our friendship.  What caused our mêlées?  In a word - control.

Control is something few among us actually have.  I would take it a step further and say that if a poll was taken and every head counted the grand total of those who truly possessed it would be exactly “zero.” Control is a product that is not allowed for our consumption.  Well, not in the true essence of the word anyway.  Think about it.  At the end of the day take inventory of everything you had control over, the outcome of which was not dependent upon the actions of someone else.  I bet I could guess the items on your list.  The closest relative that we have is self-control and most of us reliably botch that; at least I do.

As I read through Scripture I cannot seem to find any passage that instructs me, or gives me charge to control another person.  Actually, what I find is the instruction to submit one to another and consider others as more important than myself.  This seems to be a foreign concept to me more times than not.  Usually, what comes out of my mouth pertains to what I want or what I think.  Is it possible to have, or be a part of community under such an environment? 

In Galatians chapter 5 the Apostle Paul presents a striking contrast between the works of the flesh and the fruit of the Spirit.  The works of the flesh can be ascribed to the ways of this world whereas the fruit of the Spirit should be allocated to those among the congregation of the righteous.  Notice I did not say “self-righteous.”    The ways of this world would include adultery, idolatry, hatred, strife, wrath and malice.  Contrast the fruit of the Spirit – love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness and self-control. 

Is there a deficiency of fruit within the church today?  Is there one in my heart?  The time has come to set everything aside that hinders or obstructs us to what God calls us to do.  My wife asked me a question the other day, the answer of which was “no.”   I hang my head at that answer because it is senseless and speaks of a careless life.  The question was “have you ever asked God what He would have you do with your life?”   Another way to ask the question is “do you live your life within the parameters of Divine purpose?”  Again, I would have to say “no!”  Why not?  Because I bog myself down with what I think without seeking the counsel of what God thinks.  For me it is much easier to say “God, lead me anywhere, I will follow” and not give the statement another thought.  This is passive and transfers responsibility elsewhere.  A better thing for me to do would be to ask God “where shall I go?  What should I do?”  This approach places the responsibility of hearing squarely upon my shoulders.

Rather than vomiting my demands upon God or those around me, my prayer-life has been revamped that I might become more reflective of His nature.  I am convinced that all authority in my life is devoid without His nature.  I am also finding that if I relinquish “control” to Him my life is ridiculously less stressful.  The truth of the matter is this: whenever I try to don the gloves of control, my fingers find themselves wrapped up in works of manipulation.  This cannot be pleasing to God for manipulation is not of Him.

The Unforgotten

You could expect him every day around the same time.  It didn’t matter whether it was 100 degrees in the shade or 28 with sleet and freezing rain.  Chi-Chi, as he had come to be called in the street, would come through the door to receive his daily provisions.  Other homeless men around him would ridicule his vocabulary as most of it was born of his own construction.  Nobody really knew what he was saying but most nodded in agreement to whatever he uttered dismissing it as nonsense.  One particular day I felt the front door open as my skin was ravaged by the wintery wind which assaulted the desk where I was sitting sending papers scurrying across the floor.  While retrieving the strewn papers and mopping the contents of my freshly brewed cup of hot cocoa from the surface of my desk I heard the familiar greeting:  “kaluto!”  Chi-Chi was easily recognized, not only by his chosen mode of communication but by his signature saunter when he walked.  His left foot was deformed, a souvenir from the Vietnam War.   His left arm, somewhat withered, would be tucked close to his side as he stumbled his way down the sidewalk and up the steps to collect his daily meal consisting of peanut butter and donated bread.  It wasn’t uncommon to hear choice obscenities hurled at him from passing cars or other pedestrians.  You probably know his “type,” the kind you make an extra effort to avoid in order to circumvent any feeling of responsibility.  It seems to be a typical reaction to people of his ilk, as hard as that is to write.  We all have our comfort zones and I will admit his persona was the sort that generally left a person feeling uneasy or uncomfortable.   I quickly replied to his announced arrival with “wintago malsupa,” his howling laughter filled the room.  Our charted exchange was like the hundred before it as he bowed in appreciation for the grub and headed back toward the tundra-like conditions awaiting him outside.  I had just experienced another encounter with one who was a national hero, a purple-heart recipient; an honored vet.  Those last words haunt me: “honored vet.” 

This was the last time I would see Chi-Chi.  The temperature that night dipped into the single digits and tauntingly teased sub-zero conditions.  News spread throughout the community the following morning that someone had fallen victim to the elements under the overpass just off of E. Lee Street.  Chi-Chi was found dead, frozen and alone. 

You never know when you will be given the opportunity to experience the last moment in someone’s life or even when your own moment will arrive.  Sometimes I sicken myself as I drive down the road complaining of the commute to work, the long hours and traffic jams.  “If the idiot in front of me would drive faster I could get home and get on with the evening!”  Why the urgency?  I need to “relax” in front of the tube and watch “my programs” or drown the aggravations of the daily grind in some other form of non-reality.  Why I choose to spend the best years of my life on things that do not exist while I ignore people, (yes, people) who do exist and disregard them as if they didn’t is beyond me.  I need to purge my life and re-evaluate the energy I spend on empty living. To disregard someone is ultimate disrespect.  Actually, it is worse than that.  To disrespect something is still validating its existence.  To disregard something is to treat it as unworthy of regard, or notice, as if it did not exist. How many homeless people do I see on any given day?  How many do I acknowledge?  Want to make someone’s day?  The next time you see someone holding a sign take 5 minutes and talk to the person.  You don’t have to give them any money, just give them some of your time.  This senseless pandemic of the disregarded will be eliminated on the fields of sacrificial servitude but stimulated in the towers of self-indulgent gratification.    Father, open my eyes that I might see; open my heart that I might bleed the same compassion that brought you to me.