Our son Patrick has a big heart, and when he was younger, his response to seeing a hurting child (e.g. starving, abused, poor..) was always the same, “We could adopt them, and they can stay in my room”. I always loved that impulse in him; not only the desire to reach out to those in need, but also a willingness to sacrifice something of his own to make it happen. I’d like to think we cultivated that in him, as we’ve tried to be a family that consistently extends ourselves for the people we encounter. Throughout his formative years, my wife’s mother, who was legally blind and unable to walk, lived with us. After my dad passed away, my mother came to live with us for some years as well. At other times, we’ve housed folks who were homeless, addicted, and/or otherwise at risk. Like Patrick, we had a hard time walking by someone who was hurting, and not wanting to help. But in those years, when the kids were really young, there was a practical reality that also set in. With so many people depending on us for physical, financial, spiritual, and emotional support, our resources (e.g. time, energy, patience, money..) became taxed way beyond our capacity to replenish them. After a period of years, we found ourselves exhausted, deeply in debt and becoming somewhat cynical about our fellow man.
At that point, there were many people who stepped up to share their wisdom with me, which essentially said that I was foolish to have poured so much into other people’s lives, and that I should have been more focused on taking care of my own. Some pointed out that I had ultimately compromised my family’s security because I’d not been more protective of our assets. As much as I wanted to argue with them, there was ample evidence that we needed to make some changes. Even so, I never wanted to become the kind of person who was oblivious to other people’s struggles, and I definitely didn’t want to be the kind of neighbor feasting on prime rib, while my neighbors are rummaging for scraps. So I began to look for the middle ground between my son’s eagerness to take in every orphan, and the pragmatists, who were urging me to be more cognizant of our limited resources. It’s a balance that we’re still working on all these years later.
My reason for sharing this little narrative is that I think it is representative of where the United States of America finds itself today. There are those idealists who are constantly identifying new groups of people who are in need, and who they believe the U.S. has a moral obligation to care for. Like my son, I can relate to their passionate urge to reach out to these people. And then there are the realists, who rightfully point out that even a country as grand as this has a finite capacity to meet all those needs, and that our national credit cards are already maxed out. As much as I don’t love their message, they are not wrong that something needs to change.
Even though the two ends of this philosophical spectrum are speaking the loudest, I believe that most people find themselves somewhere in the middle. Though we can’t do everything we’d like for everyone who’s in need, it doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t do anything for anyone other than ourselves. We need to pick our spots, and to find ways to reach out within the bounds of our resources; both as a nation, and maybe more importantly, on an individual basis. We need to quit expecting the government to do something on a national scale, that we ourselves are unwilling to do on a local scale. I believe that the response to the recent natural disasters is a beautiful example of what is possible. No one needed the government to tell them what had to be done. We didn’t need to wait for legislation to be passed before taking action. “We the People” saw what was needed and got busy. The government has their part too, but it was just regular people who made the immediate difference. That is the country I still love, and I still believe in. If we could take all the energy that is currently being spent on protesting what we don’t like, and invest it into tangibly practicing what we say we believe in, there is no end to what we could accomplish.
Bjcorbin's Blog 
The Reality of Eternity
Posted in Commentaries, tagged childish, eternity, illusion, lukewarm, middle ground, self-pity, straddling the fence on May 1, 2024| Leave a Comment »
As I focus on eternal things, there is a growing sense within me of the stark contrast between the shadowy images of this life, and the sharp clarity of the next. Despite mankind’s (and the church’s) best efforts to find (or create) the “middle ground” here on earth, there is still no middle ground in heaven. There is a jarring reality to eternity that we can’t really comprehend, but on the day that we face it, there will be no escaping its preeminence and permanence.
Today we have the luxury of rationalization, but on that day only the truth will prevail. As the Kingdom of God approaches, the illusion of the middle ground is being destroyed. It is the fulfillment of the God’s promise to spew the lukewarm from His mouth. This morning I felt like the Lord gave me a picture of what it means to be lukewarm; He said that it is when you resemble “Him” enough to remind the enemy of his hatred for “The Father”, but not enough to remind “The Father” of “The Son”.
This caused me to recall something He told me years ago, which is that we’ve tried to use His grace like a stolen credit card; illegitimately attempting to obtain things that haven’t been accounted to us. As I was worshipping this morning I was reminded of the fact that one day the books will be opened, the accounts will be balanced and the reality of who we really are will become apparent. The song I was listening to said it this way:
Where will we turn when our world falls apart
And all of the treasures we’ve stored in our barns
Can’t buy the Kingdom of God
And who will we praise when we’ve praised all our lives
Men who build kingdoms and men who build things
Heaven does not know their names
What will we fear when all that remains is God on the throne
With a child in His arms and love in His eyes
And the sound of His hearts cry
(From the song “Poverty” by Jason Upton)
The Apostle Paul said, “When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things.” Throughout the epistles he exhorts us to do the same. It’s likely that none of us want to think of ourselves as being childish, or as inhabiting the middle ground, but I sense the Lord challenging us to allow Him to reveal the “childish things” that we still need to put away. To uncover those instances where we’ve become callous and numb to other people’s pain, or those circumstances that we’ve unwittingly become slaves to, or those things that we’re coveting and maybe even making into idols.
He wants to show us those places where we’re straddling the fence, where self-pity, jealousy, and bitterness dwell. And to expose the imaginings that have replaced the genuine prophetic vision He means to give us. On the appointed day, each of us will wake up from the dream of this life, and step into the reality of eternity.
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