Living on the Fringes

While watching a documentary on emperor penguins recently, I was amused by the tall tuxedoed mass huddled together for protection from the Antarctic cold. I laughed as they shuffled awkwardly, inching their way from one position to another. But I did feel sorry for the ones on the fringes, their backsides blasted with icy winds as they pressed close to the heat of the pack. It did not look like a fun place to be, even for a penguin.

The Bible draws its lessons from a much warmer climate and talks considerably more of sheep than penguins, but the principle is the same. The edge of a flock is not always a fun place to be. Those rams and lambs and ewes are in a more vulnerable position. They’re easier prey for the wolf pack. They more easily succumb to distraction and end up wandering off. They’re more likely to nibble that trail of deceptively green grass that leads away from the safety of the shepherd and the flock. And for them, the shepherd’s warning call is more distant than the rebellious suggestions of a nearby flockmate.

Similarly, when we live on the fringes of the Christian life, what blessings we miss out on. We’re so much less likely to sense the Shepherd’s nearness, enjoy His companionship, receive His affectionate caress, benefit from His rod of correction, or hear Him tenderly whisper our name (although we may hear Him shout it in warning!).

I guess in the case of penguins, somebody has got to mill about the edges, sacrificially taking the icy blast for the sake of the pack. And as for sheep, it’s physically impossible for them all to be in the inner circle. But when it comes to following Christ, the opposite is true: we can all press just as close as we want to the warmth of His love, without ever crowding anyone else out.

We can all say with the Psalmist: “But as for me, it is good to be near God” (Ps. 73:28 NIV). As far away from the fringes as possible!

My Day to Watch Him

“Am I my brother’s keeper?”

We’ve heard the story dozens of times, each time recoiling at Cain’s hardhearted, self-justifying reply when asked by God, “Where is Abel your brother?”

Cain knew exactly where Abel lay lifeless, and he knew why. And the best defense he could muster was, “Is he my responsibility? Is it my day to watch him? He’s his own person; he’s got to watch out for himself.”

That attitude didn’t even get a response from God. God skipped right to the heart of the matter, “What have you done? The voice of your brother’s blood is crying to me from the ground…” (Gen. 4:10 Amp).

Aren’t we tempted to offer the same irrelevant excuse to God (on a more spiritual level, of course)? “Am I my brother’s keeper? Surely You can’t mean that I must refrain from doing what I feel free to do, just because it confuses and harms him? Is it up to me to shore up his shaky faith? Must I always play by his over-sensitive conscience? Does he get to set the parameters of my conduct? “

It’s really about self-indulgence, I think, most of the time. We say it’s about maintaining Christian freedom and resisting legalism, but isn’t it usually annoyance at being denied our pleasures? Isn’t it more like, “I give up enough for you, Lord… must I also give this up just for a fellow human being?”

“Whatever you do for one of the least, you do for Me.” So maybe if we recognized our “weaker” brother (and who of us is not the weaker brother in some area?) as Christ Himself, we would find it easier to say,

“My brother [or sister] is my responsibility. Today is my day to watch him. He’s part of my very own Body, the Body of Christ. And if this will offend him, it will offend Christ.

“I am my brother’s keeper. “

Giving My Life to Christ

“I am all things to all men that I may win some.”

I was struck Sunday by how very intentional Paul was… how completely he sacrificed his own way of doing things, day after day after day, in order to connect with those around him.

The whole idea of sacrificing our way of living is one we have difficulty grasping. We tend, I think, to understand that we are sinners in need of a Savior. We get the concept of confessing sin and receiving forgiveness, of needing to make a clean break with wrongdoing, of committing to going to church and praying and reading the Word, etc.

But the idea of literally “giving our life to Christ” – have we thought that through? Do we realize that it means (or should mean) more than giving him our past to forgive, and our future to secure… it means giving the here and now, the rest of our days on earth. It means that when I wake up in the morning the day is not mine to plan and the agenda is not mine to set. It’s not my life anymore – it’s His. I’ve exchanged what was mine for eternal life with Him (a pretty good deal on my part!)

If I have truly given my life to Christ, then today is his day to do with as He wishes. And so is tomorrow and the next day; so is next year, and the next, because I’ve given my life to Him – it is not my own any more.

If we could get our minds around that, and commit our wills to that, how different daily life would be! How much more easily and willingly we could adjust ourselves, as Christ would, to those around us. How much more freely we could embrace change; how much more courageously we could face down our fears in the power of the Spirit.

I don’t think we can expect any kudos from the world for living this way, but it gets rave reviews from Christ. Because finally He gets our hands and our feet and our minds and our hearts and our days… as instruments through which He can work to win lost men and women to Himself.

All things to all people… nothing in ourselves. It sounds like foolishness to the world, like we’re throwing away our only chance to make something of ourselves. But to God it sounds like the wisest choice we can make, and He’ll make sure it’s worth our while.

Be All There

The gloriosa daisies growing beside my front porch some years ago were stunning – tall, with large multi-colored daisy-faces of orange, brown and yellow. Visitors commented on them and relatives carted some of the perennials home to their own gardens.

But there was a problem with those flowers - we never knew exactly where they were going to come up! By the next year they had jumped a little to the left of where they had been planted, or even invaded the middle of a nearby flower grouping.

It didn’t matter so much to me that the daisies couldn’t be counted on to reappear in the same spot as before, but someone who was looking for true order and harmony in their landscaping design would find their plans continually rearranged!

I once heard Twila Paris, contemporary Christian singer/songwriter, emphasize a familiar piece of advice: “Bloom exactly where you are planted.”

Sometimes it’s so hard to do, isn’t it? It’s exciting and showy to jump around and invade others’ turf and send shoots out toward greener grass… in occupations and relationships and interests and, yes, sometimes even in marriage and singleness. Sunday’s sermon addressed 1 Cor. 7: 8-16, and I’d like to add verse 17:

“And don’t be wishing you were someplace else or with someone else. Where you are right now is God’s place for you. Live and obey and love and believe right there. God, not your marital status, defines your life” (The Message).

As missionary martyr Jim Elliot once said, "Wherever you are, be all there." God is not looking for restless roots and wandering thought-tendrils and feelings that are blown off-course by the slightest breeze. He’s looking for us in exactly the place He planted us, today, and the next season, and the next.

Can we trust Him to design the landscape of our lives, to do any transplanting that needs done, and to tend to every detail of our situation? Can we hold our position without whining or pining, convinced that He’s put us exactly where our bloom matters most?

I think a little more faith in the Gardener would make us more contented plants, settle us more firmly into the soil, and help us to “live and obey and love and believe” exactly where He’s planted us.