holds the opportunity for the greatest good but on a regular basis results in the greatest evil. Scripture teaches that government was established by God (Rom 13:1-7) and to rebel against a governing authority is to rebel against God (vs. 2). Yet, that ideal is regularly perverted by sinful man, and power “corrupts completely.”
Our founding fathers understood this, and devised a system of social regulation to counter the abuse of power. It is never to be lodged in one branch of government. This limitation on power has resulted in the birth and growth of what is certainly the most remarkable and productive nation in the world. Long live the use and control of this otherwise “fearful master.”
Don’t waste the irreplaceable
Dwight Eisenhower once noted, “Wise men do not lie down on the tracks of history waiting for the train of the future to run over them.” Vivid metaphor, and more true than we are normally willing to admit. It is self-evident that to each of us was given a certain amount of time and how it is used is strictly up to the individual. Time is the only irreplaceable element in life. An hour once used, for whatever purpose, is gone and cannot be regained.
How we use time is an expression of our priorities in life. For some, life is all about achieving our goals. For many the primary purpose in life seems to be the acquisition of stuff. Why else would we carve out a schedule in which ”time on the job” is the central concern? That orientation is widely acknowledged for the earlier years in a profession, after all, the house needs to be purchased, the kids need a good education, etc. All laudable concerns, but when is enough, enough? What seems to happen is that our desire for more morphs from an understandable concern to an addiction that controls he rest of life. This makes time simply something to be filled with doing, rather than an opportunity to enjoy the fruit of energy wisely spent.
For others, time is little else than an endless occasion to do whatever we want to do. This outlook is prevalent in a certain sector of society and has the same potential as above for abusing time. Little expected, nothing required. For most people, this would be a contradiction of all that it means to be alive and well in time. It is hard to convince the average person that life has no significant purpose and that God, if there be one, is unconcerned whether or not we squander time however we want to.
Somewhere between these extremes there ought to be the balance the yields the most productive and most satisfactory way to use the gift of time. But where is that balance, the fulcrum between work and play, earning and enjoying? Here is one possibility: Genesis shows how God apportioned his time during the one week in which he is said to have worked (speaking anthropomorphically) — he worked six days and took a day off (Gen 2:2-3). Not a bad idea. Good ratio. Work a solid day, relax, do something entirely different, in the evening. Work in your profession 40 years, and then retire. Mingle “work” and “recreation.”
Now there is an interesting word, “recreation;” it means to “create anew,” to “re-freshen.” So there is a definite purpose in not working a reasonable amount of time; it is to renew, refresh, recondition, reinvigorate. A period of renewal is a gift we give to ourselves. Jesus taught that “the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath” (Mark 2:27). It is as true in the secular world as it is for the community of faith. Time off restores, revives.
So, do what God did. Balance your time in successive periods of work and relaxation. And do both intentionally with all the effort required.
Is it summer or winter inside?
Do you ever read a quotation that makes you feel good but you’re not exactly sure why it does? That’s how I felt when I read Camus’ “In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.” We have come to expect such memorable statements from the French philosopher and writer who in 1957, was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature. To translate his insight into less poetic terms, what I hear is, “When things get really bad, I find within my self a bright hope for tomorrow.” Very up lifting. We’ve all known bad times and quite often what we’ve felt to be tragic at the moment turned out far better than we could have expected.
My problem with that somewhat rosy scenario is that so often it doesn’t work out. It has not been my experience that every difficult situation has been solved by a new and fresh realization rising from within that convinces a better tomorrow. Many winter storms turn out to be less severe than expected, but not because of an “invincible summer” which lies within. In my experience the storms of life are a very real part of life itself and are not melted by a warm summer sun which I possess. That which overcomes the current difficulty doesn’t seem to lie within me. I question not that a strong sense of optimism won’t deal with difficulty better than despair, but matters of the soul require help that will reach way deeper into the problem.
The prophet Jeremiah wrote, “The human heart is the most deceitful of all things, and desperately wicked. Who really knows how bad it is?” (17:9) I would ask, “Does the wicked heart contain an ‘invincible summer’ as well?”
Perhaps this is not a Yes or No question. Those that accept the Bible as authoritative must of necessity agree to what it says. But in a larger context, is that all it says? I think not. Fallen we are (Read Genesis 3 and Romans 3) but we were created in God’s image (Gen 1:27). That means there is real hope for a coming summer. It was God’s intent that his offspring return to Eden, and for that purpose he gave his Son as the necessary price for redemption. Now that is the real spring!
Does the Spirit still inspire?
In discussing his book, Killing Jesus, Bill O’Reilly commented that he was “inspired by the Holy Spirit.” It caused a flood of reactionary emails. I tend to think that those wishing to correct him thought that he said that the Holy Spirit told him what to write rather than telling him to write. On one hand, Christians who take the Bible seriously believe that the Spirit inspired the writers in the sense that they were told what to write. However, we often speak of being inspired in the sense of being strongly moved by a force from the outside. Certainly, Martin Luther Jr’s “I had a Dream” speech was inspired in this sense (although some might claim that the Holy Spirit was speaking through him.)
I bring this up only because the other night, I felt inspired. I was sitting at the piano looking out to the West across the Sound at a remarkably beautiful sunset. It was deeply moving. I thought, God must really love beauty because there is so much of it in the world. The line came to me, “I see your love of beauty in the sunset.” Deciding to take it a step further I added, “I feel your awesome power in every storm.” At that point I began to wonder whether I could write a verse of poetry. After a pause I wrote in my mind, “I hear your voice through nature’s wonders” (I’ve always marveled at God’s self revelation in nature — see Romans 1:19-20). About that time an experience came to mind — a homily I had heard in an Episcopal Church some 10-15 years ago. The point was that in the presentation of the biblical story of God’s great redemptive act, instead of starting with an emphasis on man’s sinfulness as a result of his fall, we need to begin the story at the real beginning — man free from sin in the Garden of Eden, walking and talking with God. So, I added a fourth line, “Calling, ‘Child, dear child, Oh come back home.’” God’s voice comes to us through nature, calling us back home to Eden. Question: was I inspired, or not? You can certainly improve on the verse, but the experience of writing it was unique. In fact, I wrote four more verses to carry out the theme. I am going to include the lyrics and you are the judge.
The Grand Old Story
I see your love of beauty in the sunset;
I feel your awesome power in every storm.
I hear your voice thru nature’s wonders,
Calling,
