Perspective

Roy's Reflections
by Roy Boswell

A wise philosopher once said, “There is one simple question you and I must answer for ourselves before we’ll be able to stop cheating ourselves. The question is, ‘Are the things that matter most at the mercy of the things that matter least?’”

We are a Christian people. And we wouldn’t be if Christ hadn’t convinced us that the things that matter most should never be at the mercy of the things that matter least. That which we care for most, when we’re at our best, should not be at the mercy of the world’s brute forces (in Biblical language, the “principalities and powers” — the devil). That is the very bedrock of our religion. We are Christians because we are convinced that whatever is humanly meaningful came from a most important Source, as part of a most important Design, and that it is headed somewhere that matters because of a most important Purpose.

Why then do we, who believe God gives eternal value and meaning and purpose to the things that are most important, go on cheating ourselves by sacrificing what matters most in order to cling to what matters least?

“The Contented Fisherman” is a little parable of life which asks the question, “Which would you rather have: a fortune or a capacity for enjoyment?” While on vacation, a rich, self-satisfied industrialist came upon a humble fisherman lying lazily beside his boat. “Why aren’t you out fishing?” the industrialist asked.

“Because I have caught enough for the day,” the fisherman replied.

“Why don’t you catch more?”

“What would I do with more?”

“You could earn more money. Then you could have a motor put on your boat and you could go into deeper waters and catch even more fish. Then you would make enough money to buy nylon nets. Those would bring you still more fish and more money. Soon you would have enough money to buy two boats, maybe even a fleet of boats. Then you would be a rich man like me.”

“What would I do then?”

“Then you could really enjoy life.”

“And what do you think I am doing right now?”

Jesus withdraws from the desert: scene of His thirty-day fast and His encounter with Satan. He is now prepared to begin His public ministry. And He begins to preach, saying, “Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is close at hand” (Mt. 4:17). Having said that, I can almost hear what’s going on in most of your minds: “There’s that word again: repent !” Somehow that word is a turn-off for many of us. Somehow, it seems to have something to do with taking the joy out of life. Somehow, deep down, we’re afraid that if we begin to take it seriously we are going to be cheated out of the best part of our lives. But don’t you see, it’s just the opposite.

The call to repentance is asking for the kind of change in our lives that will increase our capacity for genuine enjoyment. The call to repentance is asking for the kind of change in our lives whereby the things that matter most will not be at the mercy of the things that matter the least. And only the things that matter most can bring us peace of mind, wholeness of life and genuine joy.

Benjamin Franklin coined a proverb for the world when he told of his first visit to a store to make a purchase. He gave a whole fistful of coins to the merchant for a worthless whistle. Clearly he had been cheated. He knew he had paid too much for his whistle. And over the years, he often would look at something stupid someone was doing and say to himself, “That fellow paid too much for his whistle.”

Have you a friend who is wrecking his health? Try to figure out what he’s trading his health for! Chances are real that it’s no bargain. Chances are he’s cheating himself! Is it some imagined prestige? Is it some badge of busyness? Is it some pathetic belief in the security of money? Is it the refusal to surrender some habit that others may take in stride but for him is poison? And for any of these, to trade for his health?

Do you know a family who is on the brink of destruction? Try to identify the basic trouble. How often it will be something that matters least. It might be hearts that are clogged with the dust of everyday living. It might be tension from the trivia of selfishness. It might be a man and woman discovering that growing pains are not restricted to childhood. How often it will be little more than the sum of petty and needless annoyances: things that matter least. And for any one of these, to wreck a home?

Have you, perhaps, allowed a friendship to be ruined by a triviality? So that now you’ve lost that relationship, and in its place have gained what? A sense of hurt pride? A growing cynicism? A permanent pout? A suspicion of other friends? Hardly a bargain!

Or, how many people do you know who have sacrificed the quality we call personal integrity? How many have shredded that fabric of self-respect, inner well-being, and bedrock decency in order to gain social conformity (They all do it, so why shouldn’t I?”); the erasing of a strong conviction, so as not to seem “different”: (What a swindle!)
We hate to be cheated: We all have this in common. Sure, we all hate to be cheated! Why then, do we put up with it from ourselves? Why do we spend so much of our energy and resources running after things that obviously are not worth the sacrifice?

In Bill Cosby’s classic story of “Noah and the Ark,” after building the Ark, Noah has been working for days to get the animals on board. As he struggles to get the second hippopotamus up the gangplank, he hears God calling him: “Noah!” And Noah, a little annoyed with the interruption he answers, “What?”

“You’ve got to take out one of those hippos and bring in another one.”

“What for?”

“Because you’ve got two males in there and you’ve got to bring in a female.”

“Oh no! I’m not changing anything. You change one of them.”

And God answers, “Come on now, you know I don’t work like that.”

Are the things that matter most at the mercy of the things that matter least? “Come on now,” God is telling us, “you know I don’t work like that! That’s why I’m telling you to repent. That’s why I am asking you to cancel the trivia when it gets in the way of what matters most.”

Whatever keeps us increasingly in touch with God, whatever keeps us increasingly in touch with each other, whatever keeps us increasingly in touch with God’s purpose for our lives, whatever keeps us increasingly in touch with our Christian mission of peace and brotherhood and our ministry of loving service -- these are the things that matter most.

These are the things that we must never put at the mercy of the things that matter least.

Sometimes perspectives change over time.

For example, twenty years ago, if asked to summarize Eli, my response would have been: He was an old priest who was so fat that he fell over and broke his neck. He was also a lousy father and he gave Hannah a hard time she didn’t deserve.

Aaaaaargggh! Before giving my current summation, let me comment on those three assertions.

Assertion one: Yes, what I said was true, but it’s a footnote to his life which doesn’t deserve to be mentioned first. The reason I mentioned it first is my own sick sense of humor.

Assertion two: Yes, the sons of Eli were a disgrace; but equating that with Eli being a lousy father is just a cheap shot. We’re skating on thin ice when we automatically make that an equation. Was God a lousy father to Lucifer?

Assertion three: Yes, what I said was true, but only to a point. The account clearly states that Eli was in error when he gave her a hard time, believing Hannah to be intoxicated. Upon hearing her explanation, he became quite gracious, yet I only referred to the negative. Why? Because my perspective of Eli was based on the simplistic premise that lousy sons = lousy father = lousy priest. A very negative perspective, indeed, and I certainly wasn’t cutting Eli any slack.

Since then, I’ve learned that cutting slack is scriptural; except in scripture it’s called mercy. The first four chapters of I Samuel give us our information about Eli. I used to read those chapters and feel contempt for Eli. Now, I feel empathy.

My present summation of Eli is that he was a person who tried, but lacked that certain something that separates the great from the not-so-great. Clearly he should have dealt with his adult sons more firmly, but he lacked the resolve to do so. The account in I Sam. 2:22 - 25 shows the old priest rebuking his sons, yet the context clearly shows that it wasn’t enough. The corrupt sons probably should have been put to death, or at least banished; but Eli couldn’t do it, because he lacked that certain something.

Eli understood much. He understood that it was the Lord who called Samuel, and told him what Eli’s judgment would be. Eli accepted the Lord’s judgment as righteous, without complaint.

It seems obvious that Eli deeply cared about the ark and about fulfilling his personal duties as priest. He trained Samuel well. So, why did his sons turn out so wickedly? Was it Eli’s fault, or the sons’?

Sounds like a similar question asked of our Lord in John 9. The disciples there wanted to know who was at fault, but the Lord brushed aside the question of fault, stating that the important thing was God’s perspective. The point Jesus made is: God is priority one. I believe Eli understood that point.

Eli said, “It is the Lord, let Him do what seemeth Him good.” Reading the account, we learn Eli’s punishment came because he could not restrain his adult sons. Eli tried to talk and reason with them, but he lacked the resolve to have them physically removed. It is a hard thing for a father to banish his sons. It was a hard thing for God to banish Lucifer, but He did it. Sadly, Eli did not.

Was Eli a good guy or a bad guy? I don’t know. But I do know this: among the jobs of a good priest is to bring people closer to God. Reflecting on Eli’s life, I feel closer to God. Therefore, from my perspective, he was a good priest. As for God’s perspective, I believe Eli hit it on the head when he said, “It is the Lord, let Him do what seemeth Him good.”

A Daughter's Heart