What Do You DO?
I tend to be a guy who gets things right more when thinking, reasoning, and monologuing than when it actually comes to the doing of them. That probably makes me a likely candidate for the broad ranks of Hypocrisy, but confession is usually the first step toward recovery. (Or else I'm just dissembling and following my usual form: Line it all up correctly in the abstract--and then still fail miserably when it comes to cold, hard reality.)
Along those lines, I can think of fews ways better to spend my energy than in doing good works, especially when done to the praise of God. In fact, I seem to remember a verse in Philippians that talks about one of the main purposes of our redemption--Christ's work in us--is that we might in turn do good to others. Anyway, I've known this for a long time, but still, when it comes down to it--to serving or sacrificing even a little bit of self--I too often choose the down-comforter-on-thick-mattress path of cozy pleasure over the futon-on-tatami-mat road of service.
But last night I was reminded of the joy of service, and so in hopes of reminding someone else out there, I'll tell you what happened.
I was in the downtown part of my city walking to a bus stop after a "Japanese drinking party" with my fellow teachers. At the party, I had won a bowl of pre-made noodles (not very appealing to most of you, but it's a good meal in Japan). Along the way, I saw a homeless woman, and I decided to offer her the meal. I told her it was too spicy for me and asked her to do me the favor of taking it off my hands, which she did. And she was so tickled, such joy broke out on her face! Such a simple thing--a kind word, an offering that cost me virtually nothing--and yet I had just made her cold, winter night just a little more bearable.
The Story Behind the Story (or Where This Story Fits in with THE Story):
1) I firmly believe that any good accomplished last night in that simple offering was the work of God. The "winning" of the prize at the party, my noticing the woman, her not being afraid to talk to a foreigner, even my being able to explain things in reasonably proper Japanese--was God's working. Strange that the God who conducts the symphony of the universe shouldn't be too ashamed to work within the narrow, selfish confines of me.
2) Giving that meal was probably more for my benefit than that woman's. Here I was walking home in a sort of stupor, too worn down by the semester to even celebrate its end--and boom! a little spiritual wake up call from God. Open your eyes, you fool!
3) It was very cheap service, in that it cost me virtually nothing, and really is no more than any "decent human being" would've done. Most service--and certainly the best and most Christ-like kinds of service--cost a lot more than a smile, a bowl of ramen, and 30 seconds of time. But you have to get there, and I'm far behind where I ought to be.
Love and Grace beyond understanding, cover even me!
P.S. I just gave my last roll of toilet paper to a neighbor who was moments away from serious bowel trauma. I'm out of control!
Along those lines, I can think of fews ways better to spend my energy than in doing good works, especially when done to the praise of God. In fact, I seem to remember a verse in Philippians that talks about one of the main purposes of our redemption--Christ's work in us--is that we might in turn do good to others. Anyway, I've known this for a long time, but still, when it comes down to it--to serving or sacrificing even a little bit of self--I too often choose the down-comforter-on-thick-mattress path of cozy pleasure over the futon-on-tatami-mat road of service.
But last night I was reminded of the joy of service, and so in hopes of reminding someone else out there, I'll tell you what happened.
I was in the downtown part of my city walking to a bus stop after a "Japanese drinking party" with my fellow teachers. At the party, I had won a bowl of pre-made noodles (not very appealing to most of you, but it's a good meal in Japan). Along the way, I saw a homeless woman, and I decided to offer her the meal. I told her it was too spicy for me and asked her to do me the favor of taking it off my hands, which she did. And she was so tickled, such joy broke out on her face! Such a simple thing--a kind word, an offering that cost me virtually nothing--and yet I had just made her cold, winter night just a little more bearable.
The Story Behind the Story (or Where This Story Fits in with THE Story):
1) I firmly believe that any good accomplished last night in that simple offering was the work of God. The "winning" of the prize at the party, my noticing the woman, her not being afraid to talk to a foreigner, even my being able to explain things in reasonably proper Japanese--was God's working. Strange that the God who conducts the symphony of the universe shouldn't be too ashamed to work within the narrow, selfish confines of me.
2) Giving that meal was probably more for my benefit than that woman's. Here I was walking home in a sort of stupor, too worn down by the semester to even celebrate its end--and boom! a little spiritual wake up call from God. Open your eyes, you fool!
3) It was very cheap service, in that it cost me virtually nothing, and really is no more than any "decent human being" would've done. Most service--and certainly the best and most Christ-like kinds of service--cost a lot more than a smile, a bowl of ramen, and 30 seconds of time. But you have to get there, and I'm far behind where I ought to be.
Love and Grace beyond understanding, cover even me!
P.S. I just gave my last roll of toilet paper to a neighbor who was moments away from serious bowel trauma. I'm out of control!
posted by Peter Rice at 9:25 PM
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