Wes Gardner

Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes.
That way, you’re a mile away from them and you have their shoes.
Jack Handey

That quote cracks me up, but I didn’t hear the Jack Handey version from SNL. Rather, it came from a friend who recounted hearing it on an episode of Car Talk. Either way, I love the humorous turn it takes.

The punchline lands well not just because it’s clever, but because there’s a dark place inside each of us that would rather get even than do the hard work of empathy. Instead of pressing towards understanding, many times we settle for pretend empathy or passive aggressive revenge disguised as empathy.

Handey’s advice is ingenious because it looks noble on the surface, keeping hidden the true motive of what appears to be a kind gesture.

Pretty clever.

The book of Proverbs, however, calls it foolish.

A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing his opinion.
Proverbs 18: 2

When we think of foolishness, most of us imagine the blathering blockhead called out in the second half of this verse. If we haven’t been that guy, we’ve surely been left speechless by the idiotic drivel of the neighborhood conspiracy theorist, the clueless co-worker, or the agenda-driven talking head on national news. We’ve had to “unfollow” a friend whose online rants regressed from annoying to psychotic. We’ve read with disbelief some of the deranged comments posted to online news articles or listened aghast as the genius in the hair salon bashed the faculty of the local high school. That’s one way to spot a fool.

But the first half of this verse tells of another way.

Just because you may not be driving everyone crazy with your wacky opinions, don’t think you’re immune to foolishness. While the second half of this Proverb deals with what a fool says, the first half exposes his inward posture. Solomon lays bare the indifferent mindset of a fool saying that a fool is one who takes no pleasure in understanding.

How are you doing with that?

Do you take pleasure in understanding? Is seeking first to understand (thanks Stephen Covey) part of your DNA? Are there times when you are more concerned with being right than getting it right, with being heard rather than listening?

Solomon says failing or refusing to understand is another indicator of a fool.

I don’t know about you, but with that, I’m busted.

If a fool finds no pleasure in understanding, I’ve been a foolish computer user, lawn mower operator, and kitchen appliance owner. I’ve experienced more frustration than pleasure when trying to understand those things.

Most of my foolishness, however, has been revealed through relationships. I’ve been a foolish friend, a foolish husband, a foolish coworker, and a foolish parent. Some of that folly has been expressed vocally, but more often than not, it’s been demonstrated in my unwillingness to understand a person, their predicament, or their point of view.

While I’m sure I’ve been both antagonistic and passive aggressive, neither of those are my go to responses. I usually settle for some of these inferior (foolish) substitutes. See if any of these sound familiar to you:

Sometimes I confuse knowing about with understanding. You may know what’s going on in someone’s life, you may see aspects of their dilemma they’ve missed, you may have even traveled down a similar road, but that doesn’t mean you understand. Knowing facts, having an outside perspective, or sharing a similar experience does not equal understanding. If you keep inserting yourself, your perspective, or your experience into their circumstance, you’re not understanding.

Sometimes I mistake labeling for understanding.  Personality inventories, socioeconomic categories, generational generalizations (e.g. Boomers, Gen-X, Millennials) have been great tools to aid with understanding, but if we’re not careful we’ll use these to label rather than understand. When we stereotype or assign motive to an individual based on his or her affinity group, we’ve failed to do the work of understanding. If you find yourself defaulting to labels or stereotypes, you’re not understanding.

Sometimes I think figuring someone out is understanding. When we view someone as a problem to be solved rather than a person to be loved, learned from, or valued, we’ve crossed the line. “I’ve figured you out” is self-protective and denotes superiority. If your default reaction to a puzzling person to try and figure out what’s wrong with them, you may not be understanding.

Sometimes I equate tolerating with and understanding. Many of us politely disengage when faced with a person whose outlook or disposition differs from ours. We give a weak, corners up, no teeth, non eye squinting smile, but inwardly, we’re disengaged or even dismissive. If you feel morally superior because of the energy you’ve expended “putting up with” someone, you’re not understanding.

Sometimes I work to understand, but do so dutifully or reluctantly.  I think this is where the rubber meets the road for most of us. We stumble over this Proverb and see that understanding is important and God honoring, so we do all we can to be obedient. But this, too, could be an indicator of foolishness. Solomon’s words highlight the difference between dutiful obedience and actually finding pleasure in understanding.

A year ago, this Proverb might have caused us to think again about our posture towards those who hold a position different from us on politics, education, or an appropriate age to have a cell phone, but today the tension is a hundred fold. It is far easier to delight in my opinions about political figures, historical monuments, police practices, and the coronavirus than it is to understand those whose opinions differ.

But Solomon gives no qualifier here. Nothing indicates that difficult issues exempt us from from the teachings of Scripture. Nor is this a one-time admonition. There are, in fact, several instances in the New Testament where the Apostle Paul encourages his readers to develop understanding with those with whom they disagree.

Take a few moments to read Romans 14: 1 – 19 and Titus 3: 3 – 11. I would then encourage you to revisit those passages later in the week to think further about their implications. In the meantime, here are some closing thoughts:

Sometimes understanding comes by remembering our priorities. In Romans 14, Paul urges Greek and Jewish Christians — who apparently disagreed on everything — to not quarrel over opinions, religious practices, or dietary concerns. They were seeing the world through their own limited perspective and gave it priority. When the gospel is of first importance (1 Corinthians 15:3), other issues can be discussed with grace and understanding, but when my opinion is of first importance, I’m a fool.

Sometimes understanding comes when we remember our past. Can you remember your mindset before becoming a Christian? Do you remember how you viewed the world? Do you remember the things you were certain of that you now consider foolish? In Titus 3, Paul urges us to consider not only our cluelessness, hostility, and contentiousness, but also to be reminded of God’s mercy extended towards us in the midst of our foolishness.

Sometimes, understanding comes when we devote ourselves to prayer. As disciples of Jesus, we are called to obey His teaching. As disciples of Jesus, we are also called to follow His example. We often site examples of Jesus praying before a big decision, performing a miracle,  or after a draining season, but we should also note that it was His custom to pray (Luke 22:39). As we follow His example of devoting ourselves to prayer, our love for God deepens, our faith in Him is strengthened, and our perspective changes.

May we, by God’s grace, be steadfast in our conviction while understanding of others’ perspective as we re-present Jesus to our community and the world.

The big yellow one is the sun. Brian Regan

Since I’m a world-class procrastinator with little aptitude for science, one of the worst weeks of my elementary school life was the science fair. I hated it. Although it was designed to help students run experiments, test theories, and understand the scientific method, the only thing the science fair did for me was combine two of my great weaknesses (science and procrastination) into one term-defining grade.

Regan’s description of the panic he experienced the morning his project was due is classic, as is his concern over the veracity of one classmate’s effort: He didn’t know how to zip up his pants, but he made a volcano? The implication is that his clueless classmate hadn’t actually made a volcano. His parents did the project for him.

Which, in essence, made the science fair the science unfair.

Just over a year ago, an elite college admission scandal captured the headlines of local news outlets and kindled the ire of many hard working students. I thought doing your child’s project was bad, but these parents have taken “science unfair projects” to another level. Pardon the oversimplification, but here’s how this parental aid regression has looked in my lifetime:

My grandparents’ generation: “Do your work.”

My parents’ generation: “We’ll help you.”

My generation: “We’ll do it for you.”

This generation: “We’ll pay someone else to do it for you.”

I can’t imagine what’s next.

I wonder, though, if the scale of the scandal, the blatant disregard for academic integrity, and the astronomical amounts of money blind us to our own temptation to over-function in the lives of our children. Most of us couldn’t fathom paying someone to take the SAT for our child, but have no problem polishing the pinewood derby car axles, offering a few suggestions for the essay, schmoozing with the coach, or using our position as room mom to influence the teacher.

In Matthew 20: 20 – 28 we discover an interesting interaction one well-intentioned mom has with Jesus. Two of the disciples mentioned here, the brothers James and John, are often identified by their father and called the sons of Zebedee. In other places, however, Jesus refers to them as the Sons of Thunder. Since Zebedee was their father, I’m deducing their mom must have been the one known as Thunder.*

She’s the one we find rumbling to the front of the line in this passage.

Can’t you just picture the determination with which Mama Thunder makes her way past the others? Eyes fixed, nostrils flared, brow furrowed, elbows flying. Frustrated with her sons’ reluctance, she takes the initiative, makes a beeline to the Savior, and asks Jesus if Jimmy and Johnny can sit on his left and right when He establishes His kingdom. Like many of us today, instead of preparing her children for the road ahead, she thinks it best to prepare the road ahead for her children.

The other disciples are indignant. Jesus, however, refuses to over-function for any of those in His charge and uses this outrageous request as an opportunity to teach not only James and John, but the other ten, as well.

In front of the entire band of twelve, Jesus asks the brothers if they had any clue about their request, foretells their future suffering, and assures them that no measure of scheming, positioning, or hundred-dollar handshakes could determine who sits where in the Kingdom of God.

Unlike my science fair experience, two great weaknesses of James and John (pride and passivity) did not equate to a term-defining grade. This incident, like any other good test, just revealed what was really there. James and John were the ones who got their names on the board that time, but Jesus’ instruction was for all of the disciples — my guess is because all of them had pondered similar requests.

He tells them all (and us) that the road to greatness is through servanthood. Mom and Dad can’t do that for you. Bribery is out of the question. You can’t outsource it. It’s a project you must undertake on your own. And don’t plan to wait until the night before.

Begin today.

*I realize James and John’s mother was named Salome.

I read an article the other day about how the seven deadly sins are evidenced during a pandemic. I’m not sure how these infamous vices are playing out for you, but pride, greed, wrath, envy, lust, gluttony, and sloth do have a way of gaining marketshare during times like these. Once you transition from the shock of sheltering in place to settling in for a while, don’t be surprised if you’re tempted to self-medicate through the uncertainty with one of the seven, a few, or D) All of the above.

When fear is heightened and anxiety is high, our prayers tend to focus on the temporal and rightly so. We’ve all prayed for our loved ones’ safety, for economic stability, for protection, and so on. But I’d like to add something to our collective prayer lists, preservation. I think protection is a given when praying for preservation, but preservation also carries with it the idea of not only being kept from something, but also being kept in, as well.

In Psalm 16, David writes:

Preserve me, O God, for in you I take refuge.

I say to the Lord, “You are my Lord;
    I have no good apart from you.”

As for the saints in the land, they are the excellent ones,
    in whom is all my delight.

The sorrows of those who run after another god shall multiply;
   their drink offerings of blood I will not pour out
   or take their names on my lips.

The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup;
you hold my lot.

The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
    indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.

I bless the Lord who gives me counsel;
   in the night also my heart instructs me.

I have set the Lord always before me;
    because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.

Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices;
    my flesh also dwells secure.

For you will not abandon my soul to Sheol,
    or let your holy one see corruption.

You make known to me the path of life;
in your presence there is fullness of joy;
    at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.

When safety needs are in primary, it’s easy forget there is always another threat, another enemy lurking below the surface. As time in confinement has shown many of us, physical illness and economic pressures are not the only adversaries we encounter in times of crisis. In 1 Peter 2: 11, Peter reminds first century Christians (who were in a much more oppressive exile than sheltering in place) that not only were they to be wary of oppression from without, they were to be aware of those challenges from within that “war against their souls.”

In other words, don’t forget the spiritual component of your life. As you pray for God’s protection from without, include requests for His protection of your heart, that He would keep you. Since external hazards carry immediate threats and create a sense urgency, you may mistakenly believe that it’s okay to let down the guard of your soul.

David’s prayer is instructive. Rather than asking God solely for protection or for help, he asks for preservation. “Preserve me, O God.” That is a profound request. Preserve me. Keep me from going rotten. Keep me from becoming stale. Keep me from hardening. Keep me from this threat AND from being tainted by it.

What if you managed to make it through this pandemic without catching COVID-19 or experiencing catastrophic financial hardship, but came out on the other end angrier, more fearful, less generous, more lustful, more prideful, more gluttonous, and more slothful?

Psalm 16 gives us a wonderful blueprint for understanding our need for God’s preservation and provides a helpful model for prayer. If you’d like to engage in Preservation 101, spend some time meditating on and praying this Psalm.

Begin with a request and a resolution:

We’ve already seen the request in verse 1, then, in verse 2, he restates his allegiance to God and identifies Him as and the source of his hope. I say to the Lord (Yahweh), my Lord (sovereign), I have no good apart from you.

Then take a look around:

When a guy I know encounters someone who tells him that they have no interest in God, he replies with this question: “How’s that working out for you?” In verse 4, David notices those who have abandoned God. Rather than seek the Lord, they look elsewhere. David observes the multiplied misery of those who fail to guard their heart when stressed and, instead, put their trust in other gods.

Choose God:

Rather than choose to be driven by fear or his flesh, David vows to place his life in the hands of Yahweh. He writes that God is his chosen portion. And there he finds not only contentment, but direction and joy.

Keep choosing Him:

While I’d love to write that David’s choice was once for all, verse 8 indicates that even though David has chosen God, he continues to do so. You and I will, as well. 

Find life, security, and joy:

David ends with the recognition that with God, his heart, body, and soul find life as it is intended to be lived, security in the midst of difficulty, and supreme joy.

One more thing. Don’t miss the fact that not only is God David’s chosen portion, but He is the cup, as well. He is the container, the holder, the vessel. God as cup is not finite, fragile, or temporal. There are no chips, cracks, or leaks in this cup. The portion it holds is secure. It is this God who holds David’s lot and the lot all of those who trust Him.

He will hold us fast.

Beginning Friday, April 17th, Andrew Lloyd Webber’s The Phantom of the Opera was available for free on Youtube for one weekend only. Really? Out of all the Broadway shows available, the program executives decided to feature the only one where the lead has distanced himself from society and wears a mask? Well played, Youtube. Well played.

Well, coming soon to a Sunday near you, the Phantom will no longer be the only singer wearing a mask. As churches begin the process of reopening, scores of Christ followers will gather with veiled faces to resume the practice of corporate worship. We’ll be doing that at Kiokee, as well.

Preparations will be made. Seats will be sanitized. Distances marked. Directions given.

And masks will be worn.

Seeing people in masks, on those few times I’ve ventured out to the grocery store, has been a little unsettling. If I’m not wearing a mask, I feel out of place, kind of like a vegan on the Fourth of July. But when I’m in compliance, I suddenly become one of those extra cautious, slow walking, glove wearing, don’t look anyone in the eye, essentials only seeking zombies haunting the isles and avoiding the unclean.

Either way, as we head towards the day when we gather again in corporate worship, there are three things we all can do.

1) Assemble. Let’s get together. For centuries God’s people have gathered together to declare the excellencies of Him who has called us out of darkness into wonderful light (1 Peter 2:9). The call has encouraged us to come just as we are, whether victorious or bruised, joyous or confused, we are called to come. For a season we’ve been unable to gather, but once that call comes, let us forsake not the assembling of ourselves together (Hebrews 10:25).

2) Acknowledge. While it may not be as unsettling as a trip to the store, our gathering together will probably seem a little awkward. It’s ok. Let’s acknowledge the awkwardness. We’re going to have to keep our distance. We’ll need to refrain from hugging for a while. We’re all going to smell like hand sanitizer. And yes, most folks will be wearing masks. Fret not. Maybe it would be helpful to realize that we’ve always worn masks to church. We’re just not used to people seeing them. The masks we normally wear, though not visible, are designed to conceal. These new masks, however, are designed to protect.

3) Ascribe. This is why we gather in the first place. Psalm 96: 7 – 8 says: Ascribe to the Lord, O families of the peoples, ascribe to the Lord glory and strength! Ascribe to the Lord the glory due his name; bring an offering, and come into his courts! When we gather together again, let us sing together to our great God.

We could focus on the awkwardness. We could focus on the masks. We could try to put all that aside and focus on singing. But, if we focus on our Savior, the others will take care of themselves.

Turn your eyes upon Jesus
Look full in His wonderful face
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim
In the light of His glory and grace