Lesson from My Unbeatable Finitude

One of the most humbling moments in the last few years of my life happened a few days ago during a volley ball “digging exercise” with me 14 year old granddaughter. Instead of just tossing the ball into the air allowing her to hit it back to me in repeat the process I decided to demonstrate my digging skill. In a split second, at 69 years of age, wearing glogs, backed up, put my hands and arms together, swung upward and sideways missing the ball, lost my balance, ended up face down on the ground, groaning, and desperately struggling to catch my breath. It was all I an attempt to demonstrate to my granddaughter that he Papa still possessed the capabilities of a well-oiled athlete. .  Sadly, the split seconds available for the decision were enough for my ego to override my better judgment.  Unwilling to pass the ball and let her practice “digging” capabilities, I made the wrong decision and lost skin from my leg, my pride and to this day soar over most of my body.

Ironically, I am inclined to believe that the consequences for me would have been much worse if I had managed to dig that ball. Though quite humiliating, that terrible mistake gave me a glimpse into my own soul in a way that might have been impossible if I had actually hit it.  While it is hard to assert my ego in the midst of failure and hardship, the ugliness of my self-centeredness can be easily camouflaged in the motives and methods of my success, leaving me blind to my unbeatable finitude. When my pursuit for success is severed from a healthy sense of chronic obligation, achieving success instills in me a measure of entitlement foreign to my true identity.  In this case a 69 year old man, who is a appreciated for being available to toss the ball in the air for my granddaughter. Such a pitfall is even more consequential in my spiritual life since it is harder to distinguish between self-serving motives and genuine zeal for God.  Unlike the gaping sins of the prodigal son, the dutiful son's alienation from the father comes neatly packaged in obedience and commitment, the very treasures I of us hope to lay before my heavenly Father in the not so far away future.

In spite of the fact that Jesus prayed fervently for unity among his followers, the visible church is often a conglomeration of competing factions, each equally convinced of its solitary possession of divine favor. Those who seek signs and wonders through the Holy Spirit are usually suspicious of those who emphasize exegetical approaches to the Scriptures.  Christian scholars are sometimes content just to talk to each other, and the uncanny tendency of apologists to sniff out what they deem rotten doctrine is not always appreciated.

As a result, as a chaplain for all faiths, I find the squandering of valuable benefits of dedicated teamwork within the household of faith, also the loose of our edge in a broken world.  Despite the monumental gains made in biblical research and translation, biblical illiteracy is still a high-ranking concern, and the frequent outbursts of oft-unfounded accusations from our detractors succeed in rattling the cage for not a few followers of Christ.  While outcasts and sinners braved insults to seek refuge in Jesus, they bolt from the divided efforts of Christians and reject God because they mistake us for Him.

I find when being right becomes an end in itself, I lose sight of my own need for God’s grace—a need that would be there even if I were faultless.  Instead of recognizing that orthodoxy, though indispensable, is only the
map of a journey which I must travel towards God, confidence in my knowledge of the truth becomes the missing link in my quest for self-sufficiency.  I have been guilty of partitioning God’s comprehensive program for his people into various segments and guarding my turf with Herculean zeal.  At times, it has taken little practice, for me to become adept at applying my preferred standards that I can accomplish the feat with our eyes closed.  Having zeroed in on what I am certain to be God's most vexing pet peeves, I stand poised not only to pronounce the verdict on those who offend Him but also to pound the gavel on his behalf.  Before long, I, like Elijah, become convinced that I am the only one who is faithful to God while all of his other children have lost their way.

Probably the best antidote to such spiritual calluses has been a healthy appreciation of the all-sufficiency of the Father and my exalted status as his humble child—a theological gem that is beautifully captured by C.S. Lewis in his book, Prince Caspian.  When the children are reunited with Aslan after many years, Lucy expresses surprise that Aslan looks bigger.  Aslan responds, “I am not.  But every year you grow, you will find me bigger.” What a relief to remember that no amount of expertise on my part can ever diminish the glory of God or cause me to outlive his fatherly indulgence!

Pure, unadulterated motives may lie beyond my reach, but I’m more convinced than ever, the intentional recognition of my humble place in deference to the majesty of my Maker is an indispensable ingredient in service to Him and others.  It was neither out of false piety nor enslavement to sin that both Daniel and Nehemiah included themselves in their profound prayers of forgiveness on behalf of their sinful people (Daniel 9 and Nehemiah 1:6). While I do not subscribe to the relativistic “never judge anyone” maxim that greases the engine of the spirit of the age, I am also convinced that what Oswald Chambers once said, “The one aim of the call of God is the satisfaction of God, not a call to do something for Him.”