Inching Toward Or Away From Idleness
From 1 Timothy 5 – 11 But refuse the younger widows; for when they have begun to grow wanton against Christ, they desire to marry, 12 having condemnation because they have cast off their first faith. 13 And besides they learn to be idle, wandering about from house to house, and not only idle but also gossips and busybodies, saying things which they ought not.
For vitamin D to energize the body and a moment's reflection to energize the soul, I was once pausing in the sunshine at the top of a steep flight of stairs which fronted a building. From that vantage point, I saw a toddler tackle them. He took each step, each one perhaps higher than his shin. When he reached the top, there was a memorable look backwards, and then forward again. It wasn't pride. It was dominion. It was accomplishment.
The desire to matter, to be able to look back on the difference we've made is part of who we are. That genuine drive for genuine accomplishment is so integral that it persisted through my friend Daniel past adolescence. When he figured out that he could meet the demands of emerging adulthood and still loaf for large portions of the day, he paused for perspective. This isn't, he told himself with remarkable clarity beyond what would be typical of his years, who I want to become. I don't want to sow into this habit.
And yet, the healthy desire to accomplish can be undermined, where it has persisted into adulthood. The apostle Paul says so in 1 Timothy 5:13. He warns Timothy as a pastor developing discernment that young widows provided for without a mission in life learn to be idle. This aspect of Scriptural Truth is so pervasive that it spilled over to gain the culture's willing assent.
Tennessee Williams, no Bible thumper, shows in Glass Menagerie shows Laura as a young adult convinced that caring for her glass animals is a full-time job. Her suitor, seeking to be obliging, mirrors much of the polite, surface acquiescence we offer thoughtlessly in our relationships. As forming individuals, like the pitcher in Michael Lewis's Moneyball slide unwittingly into becoming what they pretend to be, or what they are in their leisure, as they learn to become idle, we stand by.
We, to give the more pastoral phrasing to Franciscan Richard Rohr in Falling Upward, affirm people at our own level of immaturity. Are we, Christian, giving off a Gospel so splendid that it will over time absorb and conform one's idle thoughts and minutes?
Are we, to catch the passion and earnestness of Colossians 3, working ourselves with working with a sense of the Presence and accountability to the Lord in ways that are catching? Or, would those younger or less formed in the faith pick up the virulent contagion of idleness from us?
When we prosper minimally, I fear, in station or gain of goods, we fall prey to the same seduction as the rich man Jesus talks about in Luke 12:19. We tell ourselves, tell our souls as he does, that we have enough, that we've done enough to get by for the foreseeable future. So long as we shrink our scope to ourselves alone, excellence seems unnecessary.
Meanwhile, people in formation who make the Daniels of the world truly exceptional are watching and learning. They are deciding with more acuity than we think about the robustness of our passions, or their shriveling in stasis.
How to teach an all-encompassing Gospel as we pick it up again and begin to live it more in every aspect of life? One remedy is to take the counterpoint of the rich man's example. What we speak to our souls, and as overflow to the people around us, has tremendous power in either direction. By talking about our responsibilities in family, work, and ministry as a privileged part of a larger whole, we cast a vision in everyday ways without trumpets but with very real traction over time.
Since idleness can be learned, so can activity unto real identity. As we develop the habit of seeing the fulfillment of our responsibilities as a gracious, grateful discharge, we can help those we influence the the same connections between real effort and the results God's grace makes possible. We can help those we influence will beyond the moment in more than the correctional sense.
We can remind them, partly because you showed up, this happened. Partly because you denied the tendency toward laziness we all have, somebody else prospered. As Paul warns, this perspective doesn't just happen as a product of years. Yet, by grace through faith, it can happen around us. Even a few of these sincere, sustained results will quickly outshine the shoddy satisfaction more quickly available.
For vitamin D to energize the body and a moment's reflection to energize the soul, I was once pausing in the sunshine at the top of a steep flight of stairs which fronted a building. From that vantage point, I saw a toddler tackle them. He took each step, each one perhaps higher than his shin. When he reached the top, there was a memorable look backwards, and then forward again. It wasn't pride. It was dominion. It was accomplishment.
The desire to matter, to be able to look back on the difference we've made is part of who we are. That genuine drive for genuine accomplishment is so integral that it persisted through my friend Daniel past adolescence. When he figured out that he could meet the demands of emerging adulthood and still loaf for large portions of the day, he paused for perspective. This isn't, he told himself with remarkable clarity beyond what would be typical of his years, who I want to become. I don't want to sow into this habit.
And yet, the healthy desire to accomplish can be undermined, where it has persisted into adulthood. The apostle Paul says so in 1 Timothy 5:13. He warns Timothy as a pastor developing discernment that young widows provided for without a mission in life learn to be idle. This aspect of Scriptural Truth is so pervasive that it spilled over to gain the culture's willing assent.
Tennessee Williams, no Bible thumper, shows in Glass Menagerie shows Laura as a young adult convinced that caring for her glass animals is a full-time job. Her suitor, seeking to be obliging, mirrors much of the polite, surface acquiescence we offer thoughtlessly in our relationships. As forming individuals, like the pitcher in Michael Lewis's Moneyball slide unwittingly into becoming what they pretend to be, or what they are in their leisure, as they learn to become idle, we stand by.
We, to give the more pastoral phrasing to Franciscan Richard Rohr in Falling Upward, affirm people at our own level of immaturity. Are we, Christian, giving off a Gospel so splendid that it will over time absorb and conform one's idle thoughts and minutes?
Are we, to catch the passion and earnestness of Colossians 3, working ourselves with working with a sense of the Presence and accountability to the Lord in ways that are catching? Or, would those younger or less formed in the faith pick up the virulent contagion of idleness from us?
When we prosper minimally, I fear, in station or gain of goods, we fall prey to the same seduction as the rich man Jesus talks about in Luke 12:19. We tell ourselves, tell our souls as he does, that we have enough, that we've done enough to get by for the foreseeable future. So long as we shrink our scope to ourselves alone, excellence seems unnecessary.
Meanwhile, people in formation who make the Daniels of the world truly exceptional are watching and learning. They are deciding with more acuity than we think about the robustness of our passions, or their shriveling in stasis.
How to teach an all-encompassing Gospel as we pick it up again and begin to live it more in every aspect of life? One remedy is to take the counterpoint of the rich man's example. What we speak to our souls, and as overflow to the people around us, has tremendous power in either direction. By talking about our responsibilities in family, work, and ministry as a privileged part of a larger whole, we cast a vision in everyday ways without trumpets but with very real traction over time.
Since idleness can be learned, so can activity unto real identity. As we develop the habit of seeing the fulfillment of our responsibilities as a gracious, grateful discharge, we can help those we influence the the same connections between real effort and the results God's grace makes possible. We can help those we influence will beyond the moment in more than the correctional sense.
We can remind them, partly because you showed up, this happened. Partly because you denied the tendency toward laziness we all have, somebody else prospered. As Paul warns, this perspective doesn't just happen as a product of years. Yet, by grace through faith, it can happen around us. Even a few of these sincere, sustained results will quickly outshine the shoddy satisfaction more quickly available.
I often struggle myself with discerning between tiredness and idleness... often I truly am tired, but sometimes there is a desire to do nothing which needs to be recognized as such .
ReplyDeleteThat's a really good point to expand on or use in another blog. What are your thoughts on the difference between the two. Can we ever know but in retrospect?
ReplyDeleteIf I were to try to distinguish, I'd ask, what's my reaction AFTER I have rested and reflected for a little while? If I'm always wanting more and am ticked off at other people for interrupting my perpetual entitlement to rest and reflection, I think that's an indication of idleness. If after a reasonable pause, and reasonable is amorphous and different from season to season, I'm of settled mind and ready for some certain action, I believe my paws has served its purpose.
I'm really grateful for you stopping by, granting me, as it were, some of your genuinely precious rest. I hope you got a little refreshment in the process.
It is a very good impression about the paragraph of Saint Paul. Congratulations Mr. Brianesh, and you do not worry. The Grace Will help you. Yours sincerely Fonch.
ReplyDelete