When somebody tells me about their
vacation to some restful or exotic place, I often sarcastically reply, “Well,
it’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it.” That’s to say I guess someone
needs to be enjoying themselves while the rest of us keep pounding away at our
jobs, trying to keep all the plates spinning on their appointed sticks.
But do you know those people who seem
destined always to do the difficult, dirty jobs? You know: the ones who make us
want to say, “Better you than me, Dude.” They’re the ones who just push ahead
in spite of danger or the promise of ridicule or the expectation of very little
reward. They’re like Abram in the First Lesson appointed in the RCL for Lent 2,
Year C (Ge. 15:1-12, 17-18). This poor guy keeps going ahead, following God’s
direction; nevertheless, when we meet him in this story, he doesn’t seem to be
getting what he wants. He’s doing his part, but God isn’t coming through with
the promised reward of a son and heir. God keeps promising and Abram keeps
obeying and journeying on. And waiting.
Then, of course, there’s Jesus in the
gospel lesson (Luke13:31-35). He knows he has to go to Jerusalem. Not because
Herod is threatening him in Galilee. Not because the Pharisees want him out of
their back yard. Because the tough job that he is committed to doing is in the
city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it. And even
though he knows he’s going to face rejection, he still longs to be there, and
he looks upon the ones who will turn on him with the protective love of a
mother hen. Better you than me, Jesus.
For a saintly example, I think of the
Scottish Olympic athlete Eric Liddell, considered the most popular sports hero
in Scotland to this day.[i] Liddell won the gold medal
in the men’s 400 meter at the 1924 Paris Olympics. He’d originally been slated
to run in the 100 meters, which was his best sprinting event. He refused the
event, however, because the heats were to be held on Sunday. Being a devout
Calvinist, he felt that competing on Sunday was a sin against the Sabbath.
Following a record-setting win at the
Olympics, Liddell could’ve gone on to a career in pro athletics. He was famous
and popular and was an accomplished rugby player as well as a runner. He chose,
however, to follow in his parents’ path and became a Christian missionary to
China. He served in the Orient for the better part of two decades, first as a
teacher of English for the children of wealthy Chinese, but later as a medical
missionary in one of the poorer provinces. In 1943, after disregarding a
warning from the British foreign office to evacuate, Liddell was captured by
the invading Japanese and sent to an internment camp. There he became a kind of
camp pastor, ministering to the spiritual needs of his fellow detainees,
teaching the Bible, and coordinating the social life of the camp. He died there
in February of 1945, just five months before the camp was liberated. The cause
of his death was believed to be a brain tumor, exacerbated by hard work and
malnutrition.
I don’t imagine anyone reading this post
is feeling a calling to go to a dangerous or strange place for the sake of the
Gospel. Certainly none of us are about to go and get ourselves crucified,
either! BUT: you may already be in your
“Jerusalem” or your “China” (if you wish to use the example of Eric Liddell).
You may be in a strange love-hate relationship in which you have great
compassion for some person or persons, yet all you face is rejection, frustration,
longing, or disappointment. The mother hen, after all, may protect her chicks
under her wings, but she’s the one the fox eats first. Perhaps you struggle
with parenting, volunteering, or being a witnessing presence in your workplace
or school of neighborhood. Perhaps you, like Abram, are asking, “How long, O
Lord?”
It’s a tough job, my friend. But someone
has to do it. And that someone, today, is you. Now is the time to ask how your
serving makes a difference. Now is the time to decide whether your efforts are
a sacrifice or a waste. If they’re the former, then it’s time for you to start
thanking God for the opportunity to be who you are where you are.
Wait for the Lord;
be strong, and let your heart take courage;
wait for the Lord! (Psalm 27:14)
be strong, and let your heart take courage;
wait for the Lord! (Psalm 27:14)
Thanks again for reading this week!
[i]
Liddell’s story is part of my favorite sports movie, Chariots of Fire. If you’ve never seen it, I’m sure you can get it
on Amazon or Netflix.
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