Showing posts with label Steve Shoemaker. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Steve Shoemaker. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Obstacles to Grace: Envy

1 Samuel 18:5-9; James 3:13-18

March 30, 2011


Do you look good in green? Kermit the Frog does. The Irish, they of the “Emerald Isle,” love their green, especially on St. Patrick’s Day. Green is the color of environmental responsibility: Reuse, Reduce, Recycle. Kermit the Frog, St. Patrick’s Day, environmental responsibility. What’s not to love about green?


Unless green is the color of your complexion, and then you are not feeling well at all. Unless green is the color of the sky, and then we’re talking tornado time. Unless the grass of your neighbor’s lawn is greener than yours is, and then we’re talking envy. I love a green, green lawn all year long. That’s why at our house we still grow fescue instead of bermuda or zoysia, which would make a lot more sense in South Carolina. I want a green lawn all year long because I want the grass to be greener on my side of the fence. To envy—or to desire to be the object of envy—is an insidious and ugly obstacle to grace.


Frederick Buechner calls envy “the consuming desire to have everybody as unsuccessful as you are.” Dorothy Sayers says, “Envy is the great leveller. If it cannot level things up, it will level things down.” Let’s look at how envy works.


In the Old Testament book of 1 Samuel, King Saul and the young warrior David were allies in arms against the Philistines. Saul welcomed David into his own home, and in the service of Saul “David went out and was successful wherever Saul sent him; as a result, Saul set him over the army.” But one day, something changed in Saul. It happened, we are told, “when the women came out of all the towns of Israel, singing and dancing, to meet King Saul.” But when they met King Saul, listen to what they sang: “Saul has killed his thousands, and David his ten thousands.” Hmmm. That’s when the screw of envy turned in Saul. Saul became “very angry. . . . He said, ‘They have ascribed to David ten thousands, [but] to me they have ascribed [only] thousands. . . .’ So Saul eyed David from that day on.” “Saul eyed David” (1 Samuel 18:5-9).


On one level, envy is a sin of the eye. It is an optical and perceptual flaw by which we objectify others on account of what they have that we perceive ourselves to lack. On a deeper level though, envy is not in the eye at all. Envy is rooted in our deepest insecurity and discontent with ourselves. Envy is an expression of the most anxious place in our self and our self-image.


Consider this. Saul didn’t envy David for his shepherding or for his harp playing. He didn’t envy David on account of the love of his son Jonathan for David or on account of the love of his daughter Michal for David. He didn’t even envy David for his military exploits. Saul did fine with David’s success in love and war until the women began to sing; that’s what touched a nerve in Saul’s insecurity and wounded him in his most anxious place. The self-tormenting discontent that is envy always originates in the most insecure and anxious place in each of us.


Preachers don’t envy engineers for their analytical acumen, but another preacher’s deft turn of phrase and the ability to draw a congregation in turns a preacher green. Bankers don’t envy a violinist’s virtuosity. The recent collapse of financial institutions all over our country was driven not by greed as much as it was by the personal and professional insecurity of hollow men consumed by the thought that the other guy had a bigger . . . bank. The billion-dollar business of elective cosmetic surgery is predicated on women’s envy of the size of other women’s . . . lips. Where we are most vulnerable and insecure is where envy grows.


So where do we turn to be healed of our own evil eye?


First, get over it. The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. It’s a scientific fact. In an article published in 1983 titled “‘The Grass is always Greener’: An Ecological Analysis of an Old Aphorism,” James R. Pomerantz showed how optical and perceptual properties of the human eye make a mass of grass at a distance appear greener than grass nearby with its differentiated blades (Perception 12 [1983], 501-502). Of course their grass over there looks greener to you than your grass over here does. It’s an optical and perceptual fact. Don’t torment yourself because your distance from another person’s particulars makes their life look better than it really is up close. Get over it.


Second, no matter how green it is, sooner or later, “the grass withers, the flower fades” (Isaiah 40:8). Perhaps the saddest thing about the endless anguish and self-torment of envy is that it doesn’t even obsess over things that are lasting. There is nothing in the world to envy that does not fail, fall, wither, shrink, or sag sooner or later. Instead of envy, which leads to “disorder and wickedness of every kind,” James 3 says, we set our eyes on “the wisdom from above” that is everything that envy is not: it is “pure . . . peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits, without a trace of partiality or hypocrisy. And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace for those who make peace” instead of tormenting themselves and others with their envy (James 3:17-18). “Wisdom from above” is lasting; the grass, no matter how green, withers.


Third, stop counting. The most popularly prescribed antidote to envy is “Count your many blessings, name them one by one.” But the problem is that antidote assumes the very same thing that envy does: that your contentment and satisfaction are grounded in how much you have instead of in how good God is. Contrast that popular prescription with the discovery of the apostle Paul who says that at the very place of his greatest insecurity and anxiety—he called it “a thorn in the flesh”—he heard God say to him, “My grace is sufficient for you” (1 Corinthians 12:9). “My grace is sufficient for you.”


Envy is an obstacle to grace precisely because it denies the goodness of God that that fills our weakness with God’s strength and replaces our insecurity with God’s love when with the Psalmist our “eyes are ever toward the Lord” (Psalm 25:15) instead of roving about looking at whoever we see as having more or bigger or better than we.


The antithesis and the antidote to envy is not in adding up our blessings but in letting go of our insecurities and anxieties. It’s expressed in one of the most overlooked psalms in the entire Psalter, the quiet and unassuming Psalm 131. It’s overlooked because it runs counter to our cultural obsession with more, bigger, better. Psalm 131 reads, “O Lord, my heart is not lifted up, my eyes are not raised too high; I do not occupy myself with things too great and too marvelous for me. But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother.” Satisfied, content, calmed, and quieted. “O Lord, my heart is not lifted up, my eyes are not raised too high.”


Satisfied, content, calmed, and quieted. Centered, not in how much you have but in how good God is.


Photo by Timo, used under license of Creative Commons.

This material is Copyrighted © 2011 by Jeffrey S. Rogers. It may be copied or disseminated for non-commercial use, provided this notice is included. The author can be contacted at jeff.rogers@firstbaptistgreenville.com.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Evidence of Grace: Hope

Romans 5:1-4
February 23, 2011

A few weeks ago, Irv Welling passed along what is said to be a Cherokee story he heard recently at an awards dinner. The story goes like this. One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people. The grandfather said, “My son, the battle is between two ‘wolves’ inside us all. One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority and ego. The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.” The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, “Which wolf wins?” The old Cherokee replied, “The one you feed.” The one you feed.

It occurred to me when I read that story that it could stand for our entire MidWeek series on virtues as evidences of grace and vices as obstacles to grace based on Steve Shoemaker’s book The Jekyll and Hyde Syndrome. It all depends on which wolf we feed. Tonight, I’m talking about feeding hope. Not having hope; not finding hope; not needing hope; but feeding hope.

In the Bible, hope is presented as something God gives. The prophet Jeremiah wrote to the people of Jerusalem who had been exiled to Babylon, “I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope” (Jeremiah 29:11). God gives hope, Jeremiah says. As that verse from Jeremiah implies, hope is always about a future with God that stands somehow in contrast to or in tension with the present. Whatever the circumstances of the present may be, hope holds out an alternative future in the plan of God for welfare and not for evil, for shalom and not for ra‘, the Hebrew text says.

The apostle Paul calls God “the God of hope” who will “fill you with joy and peace in believing so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope” (Romans 15:13). Shoemaker points out that “In the New Testament, hope is always a noun [or a verb], hope, never an adjective, hopeful, or an adverb, hopefully; [because hope] is far more than some subjective feeling we conjure up. It is a power given us by God, the God of our hope” (Shoemaker, p. 174). Hope is a power given to us by God. It is like a wolf inside us—if we will feed it.

God is our hope, the source of our hope and the object of our hope. “Hope in the Lord,” says the psalmist (Psalm 130:7; 131:3). “I hope in the Lord,” says Paul (Philipians 2:19). Hope is not some vague, wishful and wishy-washy feeling that “everything will be O.K.” Hope is a persistent and tenacious conviction of the soul that God really is at work in all things for good (Romans 8:28), even when you and I cannot see the good for which God is working. After all, Paul reminds us in Romans 8:24-25, “hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.”

Ah, patience. There’s the rub. In an era of fast food, fast cars, fast facts, fast internet, fast money, fast games, fast answers, fast weight loss, fast living, fast-acting, fast and furious, we do not hope for what we do not see because we wait for nothing with patience. The problem with the hope that comes to us from God is that it does not come as a gift on a silver platter to privileged and entitled people who are impatient and in a hurry. “Lord, give me patience, and give it to me right now.”

Hope comes, says Paul in Romans 5:1-4, from the long, slow work of the cultivation of our character which comes from the expansion of our endurance which comes from our experience of suffering. God sows hope like seeds in the dirt of our lives, seeds that must lie in the dark, underground, in order to germinate and sprout, to be cultivated, watered, fed, weeded, trimmed and pruned only eventually to be harvested as ripe and full-grown hope. The quote from Steve Shoemaker's book that has been at the top of our MidWeek order of worship for this series speaks of all of the virtues and of each of them. So, hope “is a gift from the Creator, an evidence of natural grace, and [hope] is also a habit, a discipline consisting of difficult choices and the day-by-day, step-by-step determination” to choose hope. In other words, to “have hope,” we must “feed hope.”

We must day-by-day and step-by-step determine to choose hope among the many options we have for relating to ourselves and to God and to others and to the world. I say to myself, “In this situation, I can choose cynicism; I can choose despair; I can choose apathy; I can choose anger; I can choose retribution. I have many choices, and I choose hope. I am going to feed hope.”

Ezekiel saw a vision of a valley of dry bones, the bones of Israel in exile, who cried out, “Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost!” But in that valley of dry bones, Ezekiel heard God say, “I will put my Spirit within you and you shall live!” That’s the voice that gives us reason to choose hope. Whether the valley is exile or illness, a broken family or a broken heart, a lost job or a failed test, God puts God’s spirit within us for life. In Egypt, Israel cried out to God under the murderous oppression of Pharaoh, and God raised up the voice of Moses, who demanded for God of Pharaoh, “Let my people go!” That’s the voice that gives us reason to choose hope. Whether Pharaoh is a political tyrant or an exploitive workplace, an abusive parent or spouse, or homelesseness or hunger or poverty, God’s spirit is always on the side of liberation. In the Easter story, we, like the women who were there, are asked, from the empty tomb, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” (Luke 24:5). That’s the voice that gives us reason to choose hope. Whether the tomb is in a garden or a graveyard or a failed marriage or a faded dream or an addiction or a dead end of one sort or another, God’s spirit is always on the side of life.

That’s the voice that gave Martin Luther King, Jr., the spiritual fortitude to announce on the night before he was assassinated, “Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord. . . .
With this faith I will go out and carve a tunnel of hope from a mountain of despair.” We are all in the business of carving “a tunnel of hope from a mountain of despair.” Carving a mountain of hope from a tunnel of despair takes a tenacious faith in God that God is working for good regardless of how things look at any given time or place. It takes passionate confidence that in the end, God’s kingdom will come, God’s will will be done on earth as it is in heaven. And it takes faithful listening to the voice that gives us reason to choose hope.

Which wolf in you will win? The one you feed. So feed hope.


Photo by sometimesong. Used under license of Creative Commons. http://www.flickr.com/photos/sometimesong/

This material is Copyrighted © 2011 by Jeffrey S. Rogers. It may be copied or disseminated for non-commercial use, provided this notice is included. The author can be contacted at jeff.rogers@firstbaptistgreenville.com.