A while back I was looking through my father-in-law’s collection of old newspapers and found this little piece in the London Gazette (Monday August 26, 1768, Number 118; Twopence-Farthing). It’s either a letter to the editor or an editorial comment; I’m not sure which! It comes just after the announcement of a soiree to be held by Mrs Grant-Forsdyke and just before a description of a French pirate ship at large:
ABHORENT PRACTICE OF SLAVE TRADING: The hunting of Human Beings for the purpose of making slaves of them is a practice to be much abhored.
It is therefore of great comfort to Englishmen of Christian Ideals to note that the group of Evangelicals continues to be active in condemning the trading of slaves.
It would be approximate to say that some 50,000 Negro slaves are transported a year from the Continent of Africa to the American colonies, in conditions of the most appalling suffering.
We are sure all thinking men will deem the work of the Evangelicals to be of ultimate necessity and will encourage them to continue in it.
My review is now on Themelios. I’ve also included the full text below:
In 1 Cor 9:19-23, Paul seems to wear his Jewishness very lightly. He claims, for example, that he is not “under the law” and that he “became as a Jew” in order to win Jews. These claims are often cited as evidence that Paul was indifferent to Jewish identity and Torah observance. David Rudolph’s monograph seeks to demonstrate that this “consensus” reading of 1 Cor 9:19-23 cannot be sustained. Rudolph’s primary aim is to demonstrate “that scholars overstate their case when they maintain that 1 Cor 9:19-23 is incompatible with a Torah-observant Paul.” As a secondary aim, Rudolph also seeks to show “how one might understand 1 Cor 9:19-23 as the words of a law-abiding Jew” (p. 19).
In part I (chs. 2-4), Rudolph aims to destabilise the consensus reading of 1 Cor 9:19-23. Chapter 2 deals with intertextual issues. He first argues that key texts often used to support the idea that Paul’s Jewishness is erased or inconsequential in Christ (esp. Acts 16:3; Rom 14; 1 Cor 7:19; 10:32; Gal 1:13; 2:14; 3:28; 5:6; 6:15; Phil 3:8) do not clearly support this idea. Rather, the texts can be interpreted to mean that Paul’s Jewishness is less important than his belonging to Christ. Rudolph then examines other key texts (esp. Acts 21:17-26) which suggest that Paul viewed Jewishness as a distinct “calling in Christ”. Chapter 3 examines 1 Cor 8:1-11:1, arguing that Paul’s whole approach to idol-food fits well within the bounds of Torah-observant Judaism. Paul was not indifferent to idol-food; he simply took a more nominalist Jewish position (what matters is a person’s intention in eating) as opposed to a realist position (idol food is intrinsically dangerous). Paul’s instructions can, in fact, be read as a contextualised application of the apostolic decree (Acts 15). Chapter 4 discusses 9:19-23 directly. He first argues that Paul’s “all things to all people” discourse is consistent with the Jewish practice of accommodation in table-fellowship. Although there was variation in the interpretation of food-laws amongst first-century Jews, there is also ample evidence that many Jews were willing and able to share meals with others (stricter Jews, less strict Jews and Gentiles) without compromising their own purity. Rudolph then examines individual phrases within 9:19-23, showing that they are compatible with the view that Paul was a Torah-observant Jew. For example, the phrase “under the law” does not necessarily mean “under the authority of the Mosaic law”; it might simply refer to those who live according to a strict Pharisee-like interpretation of the law.
Chapter 5 offers his proposed interpretation of 9:19-23. Paul is a Torah-observant Jew who does not personally violate the biblical dietary laws, and he is as “strict” about his Torah-observance as the Pharisees. Paul imitates the gospel-tradition concerning Christ’s accommodation towards others and open table-fellowship. Thus, when Paul claims that he “became like a Jew”, he means that he received the hospitality of various kinds of Jewish hosts. He did not adopt a chameleon-like approach to Jewish identity and practice.
Rudolph’s most interesting contribution is his formulation of Jewish identity as a distinct “calling in Christ” (pp. 75-88). On the one hand, Paul did not view Jewish Torah-observance as a means of eschatological salvation. On the other hand, Jewishness is not erased or inconsequential in Christ. Rather, for Paul, Jewish Torah-observance is a distinct “calling” or a “vocation” within a more fundamental Christian identity (7:19). The Mosaic law, therefore, applies to Jewish Christians and Gentile Christians in different ways. Paul understood this difference; hence he lived consistently as a Jew, but never insisted that Gentile converts do the same. This nuanced formulation of Paul’s Jewish identity undergirds the cohesiveness of Rudolph’s entire thesis. It also helps to integrate Paul’s letters with evidence from other sources, for example, the story of Paul’s law-observant actions in the temple in Acts 21:17-26 (pp. 53-57). Furthermore, it has significant implications for other important areas of discussion, such as Paul’s view of male-female distinction in Christ (e.g., p. 31), Paul’s reliance on Jesus-traditions (e.g., pp. 179-90), and the role of Paul’s letters in Jewish-Christian dialogue (e.g., p. 211).
However, Rudolph’s presentation of Torah-observance as a “calling in Christ” also raises significant unresolved tensions concerning the role of the Mosaic law in Paul’s theology. When discussing the law, Rudolph focuses almost entirely on questions of halakhah—that is, how did Paul live day by day, and how did he expect others to live? Yet apart from a brief discussion of the ambiguity of the phrase “under the law” (pp. 154-59), Rudolph does not adequately deal with the soteriological implications of Paul’s use of the word “law”. He tends to skim past Paul’s frequent (often negative) utterances concerning the relationship of the law to eschatological blessing and salvation. However, most expressions of the “consensus view” Rudolph is seeking to oppose are written in the context of these soteriological considerations. Ultimately, then, if Rudolph’s thesis is to be convincing, it needs to be integrated and reconciled with a more comprehensive understanding of Paul’s view of the Mosaic law, particularly its relationship to salvation in Christ.
Lionel Windsor
Durham University
Durham, England, UK
From The Briefing:
One lazy afternoon in 1999, travel writer Bill Bryson discovered a shop that sold pet supplies and pornography.1 It was at the far end of the main street of an unassuming Australian country town called Young.
The front of the shop contained rather mundane supplies of flea powder, fish flakes, and other pet accessories. But at the back of the shop, behind a small wooden gate, there was a whole section devoted to the sale of explicit pornographic material. Bryson was apparently baffled by the existence of such a bizarre establishment. But I think I can explain what it was doing there.
If memory serves me correctly, there was a period during which various local planning laws existed to get rid of the ‘adult’ industry in Australian towns. The lawmakers didn’t ban small stocks of pornography in shops that existed for other purposes (e.g. newsagents2). But they did try to make sure that all such stocks were strictly controlled. No shop was allowed to have pornography comprising more than a certain small percentage of its total stock. Therefore, no dedicated ‘adult’ stores could exist. The laws were designed to create a safe and wholesome town environment by ensuring that the sale of explicit material couldn’t become a business in its own right (remember, at this point the internet was still taking off).3
But what actually happened? Did the laws work as intended? Not quite. Instead, bizarre shops started to spring up, shops like the one Bryson encountered. The shops still had pornography as their real core business, but to get around the planning laws, the stores put up not-very-subtle ‘fronts’. A shop that advertised pet supplies out the front could ‘legitimately’ claim that it was not really an adult store, since its main purpose was something else. And since there were more individual packets of cheap flea powder and fish flakes on the shelves than there were magazines out the back, the stocks of pornography technically came under the legal limit. But everybody knew what the shops were really for. The laws, despite their good intentions, had failed.
This is a clear illustration of a problem that crops up whenever we try to use laws to make things better. These planning laws were good. They were worthy manifestations of our community’s desire to uphold marriage as the proper context for healthy sexual expression, and to limit the harm and exploitation that arises when this context is ignored. I’m glad the lawmakers did what they did. But the legislation couldn’t, by itself, get to the heart of the problem. The laws couldn’t make men love their families more. They couldn’t convince people that being a real ‘adult’ is about care and responsibility, not self-gratification. The letter of the law did nothing to make people love the spirit of the law. It just brought about grudging compliance and tragically comic workarounds that exploited loopholes. A good law doesn’t make people good.
This isn’t just a problem for Australian planning laws. In fact, the problem also crops up when we try to put God’s law at the centre of our lives. In Romans 2:17-24, the apostle Paul has a debate about this very issue. Paul and his debating partner were Jews. This means they were law-people, and glad of it. The God of the entire world had especially revealed himself to Israel through the law of Moses. Jews had a fantastic privilege: they knew God’s will in the law. They knew what was good and right and proper, because the Creator himself had told them all about it. Jews were also equipped to teach other people all about this great revelation of God’s will. But Paul insists that God’s law-revelation has a fundamental problem. It’s not that the law is bad; actually, the law is great. But the problem is that the law won’t change the heart. God’s good law doesn’t make God’s people good. In fact, as Paul goes on to show in Romans 3, the law does something else entirely. In the end, the law makes our sin and hypocrisy crystal clear. It silences every mouth, and holds us accountable to God (Rom 3:19-20). The law doesn’t save us. Instead, it shows up our failure, and points to something greater: the forgiveness and transformation that we find in Jesus Christ, through the word of the gospel and the Spirit of God.
A heart that relies on the law to find salvation before God is a bit like that store at the end of the main street in Young. It might look respectable and well-ordered. It might seem quite attractive to a casual passer-by. It might have a plentiful stock of law-compliant good deeds on the shelves. And yet there are those sealed sections, the bits at the back. At one level, these sealed sections might seem small or insignificant compared to the much more obvious good deeds that can be pointed to as examples of that heart’s own inherent goodness. But in fact, it is these back sections that truly show up the heart’s real orientation. And if we admit it, there’s a bit of that hypocrisy in all of us, isn’t there?
Simply knowing God’s character and will, even his character and will as expressed in the pages of the Bible itself, will not solve our biggest problem. If we want actual forgiveness, salvation, and transformation, we need something far more radical and powerful than God’s law. We need God himself to forgive us. We need the cross of Christ. And we need God to change our hearts, imperfectly now, and soon our whole heart, soul, and strength perfectly on that last day.
1 Bill Bryson, Down Under, Black Swan, London, 2001, pp. 109-110.
2 Newsstands to American readers.
3 I’m relying on my memory of news reports. I’ve tried hard, but haven’t been able to track down the laws that were in effect twelve years ago.
Comments at The Briefing.
The causes of famine in Somalia are many and complex: politics, corruption, war, greed; the list goes on. At this particular moment, however, what is needed most urgently is funds to buy food. Unicef says that if they can buy food, they can get it to where it’s needed.
Apparently we haven’t taken this crisis seriously enough because we’ve been distracted by other news stories; stories about foam pies thrown at Rupert Murdoch, for example.
If you’re in the UK, you can donate to Unicef here. If you know of any other charities or channels through which funds can be given to get food urgently to Somalia, please comment.
If you’re anywhere in or around Sydney in August, don’t miss Brian Rosner’s lecture series. This is a very important topic. I’m guessing the lecture series will touch on issues like: What does the Old Testament law have to do with Jesus? Will God judge me based on whether I keep the law? What does the Old Testament law have to do with the way I live day by day? Brian is a world-class scholar in the field and I’m sure his answers will be worth hearing. Wish I was there!
PAUL AND THE LAW: KEEPING THE COMMANDMENTS OF GOD
Public Lecture (overview)
August 9 @ 8pm: Paul and the Law: Keeping the Commandments of God
Five Lecture Series
August 15 @ 10am: “Circumcision is nothing”: The Puzzle of Paul and the Law
August 16 @ 9am: “Not under the law”: Paul’s Repudiation of the Law as Legal Code
August 17 @ 9am: “Under the law of Christ”: Paul’s Replacement of the Law
August 18 @ 9am: “Witness to the gospel”: Paul’s Re-appropriation of the Law as Prophecy
August 19 @ 9am: “Written for our instruction”: Paul’s Re-appropriation of the Law as Wisdom
Lectures will be held in the Broughton Knox Lecture Theatre, 15 King Street, Newtown. All welcome and there is NO CHARGE.
On the Sola Panel:
Is it better to choose a more difficult ministry, or an easy one? Is it more godly to choose suffering over comfort when we make decisions about life and ministry? After all, suffering makes us more like Jesus, and surely that’s good for us, isn’t it?
From time to time, we face ‘life and ministry decisions’, by which I mean those kinds of choices that will have a significant effect on our future life and our ongoing daily service of others. I’m thinking about decisions about where to live, what church to go to, how much money to give away, whether to lead a kids’ Sunday club this year, whether to take paid work and if so how much and with whom, etc.. Sometimes the right choice is straightforward and obvious (e.g. if you’re considering abandoning your spouse in order to shack up with somebody else, the right choice is not to do it). But with many choices in life, there are no easy and straightforward ‘one-size-fits-all’ answers. They’re the kind of questions you often need to pray about, discuss with others, and stew over for a while. In these kinds of decisions, one key question that may influence the decision is: how much will I personally suffer as a consequence of making this decision?
It’s possible to adopt a pleasure maximization/suffering minimization strategy when making choices like this. For example, I might choose to live as close to the beach as my salary can afford because I like the beach; or I might choose the church with people who are easiest to relate to because I enjoy their company; or I might choose to take paid work because it will bring me fulfilment in the work of caring for God’s creation. After all, if I choose to lead a healthy and happy life without being distracted by needless pain, I’ll be honouring God who created all things good, won’t I (1 Tim 4:4-5)?
It’s also possible, however, to adopt the opposite approach: a pleasure minimization/suffering maximization strategy. God wants me to suffer (Phil 1:29); so the ‘easy option’ is, by definition, the wrong option, isn’t it? Jesus lived a life of suffering, didn’t he (1 Pet 2:21)? So did his apostles (Col 1:24). Suffering produces character and perseverance and hope, doesn’t it (Rom 5:3-4)? So if I seek after suffering, I’ll really be following Jesus and truly living out God’s will for my life, won’t I?
However, both of these attitudes to suffering put the cart before the horse. We aren’t told to seek after suffering or pleasure at all; rather, we are told to seek after God’s glory (1 Cor 10:31). God is most glorified when Jesus Christ is proclaimed, believed and obeyed. The Bible tells us that if we make decisions to live for God’s glory, we will have our share of both joy and suffering. Are you concerned that you will miss out on living a full life? Jesus says not to run after food and clothes; instead seek God’s kingdom and his righteousness, and you’ll be given what you need from your loving Father (Matt 6:33). On the other hand, are you concerned that you’re not getting enough suffering? The answer is not to seek more suffering; instead seek to live a godly life in Christ Jesus, and inevitably you will suffer just like the apostle Paul (2 Tim 3:11-12).
That’s why I reckon that the question of suffering shouldn’t be a factor in our decisions about life and ministry at all. Just because something is harder (or easier) doesn’t mean it’s the more godly choice. Instead, we should make our decisions based on what will enable us to glorify God the most. Within our limited perspective, when faced with life decisions, we should ask how our choices will bring about opportunities to live godly lives and to see our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ proclaimed to others. In the end, whatever decision we make, if we are seeking to glorify God then both joy and suffering will come our way, and God is in charge of both.
Of course, suffering may come into our decisions indirectly; for example, you may know that you are particularly vulnerable to certain sins, or you may have wisely discerned your physical and mental and emotional limitations, and so you may decide that certain more radical life choices will not ultimately glorify God because they will almost certainly lead to unbearable temptation or to burnout rather than to proclaiming Christ or loving your neighbour. On the other hand, we need to be aware of our own sinful tendency to make decisions for selfish, rather than godly, reasons. We shouldn’t shy away from the prospect of pain or loss or tiredness or discomfort, just because it will be difficult. But in the end, the amount of suffering (large or small) is not the ultimate consideration in the decision making process.
In all this, we need to remember that, since God is God and we’re not, our decisions may in the end turn out to have completely different consequences to what we expected when we made the decision. Yet God is sovereign even over this. “The heart of man plans his way, but the LORD establishes his steps” (Prov 16:9). Nevertheless, God frequently calls on us to make wise, prayerful and godly decisions. Don’t make life choices simply in order to increase your pleasure, and don’t make life choices simply in order to increase your pain. Your life, in suffering and in joy, is about being conformed to the likeness of God’s son Jesus Christ. So when you’re faced with a life choice, act as a child of your heavenly Father and seek to glorify him above all. Then accept the joy and suffering that comes your way as a result.
Comments on the Sola Panel
From the Sola Panel:
The UK government has launched a review into occupational Health & Safety laws (OH&S). It seems to be a very popular move. Health is good. Safety is good. But the multiplication of rules purportedly designed to enforce it often leads to madness.
Most of us are aware of safety rules that seem to be either over the top or incomprehensible. We received a note from our school a few months ago, informing us that the last day of the term would be a non-uniform day, but instructing us that the children were not to wear any hats—“for health and safety reasons“. A short while later, the school sent home another note, asking us to send our children to school in hats to protect them from the sun. It’s a great school, and the teachers are wonderful people who provide the kids with an excellent education. But this shows that even with the best intentions and among the best of people, rules can easily take over from common sense.
I used to work for a company that made solar panels. We dealt with quite a number of extremely toxic gases and chemicals. Very early on in the company’s life, we had to introduce OH&S policies. I can still remember my exceedingly wise manager, who had a consistent strategy whenever we had a seminar or meeting about health and safety. If anybody ever began a meeting or seminar talking about rules, legislation or fines, then he would stop them in their tracks. He would insist that we had to begin with health and safety itself. We had to be firm on the idea that a healthy and safe workplace was good for everybody and the idea that there were real risks that we had to work together to avoid. Our aim was not to keep rules or avoid fines; our aim was to be healthy and safe, and whatever rules we put into place were only there to serve that ultimate goal. Needless to say, it was a great place to work.
There’s a parallel here with Jesus’ attitude to the Old Testament law. Jesus came into a situation where there was a lot of rule-keeping going on. People were trying to keep God’s rules. Extra rules had even been added to ensure that God’s own original rules were kept. But in many places, the point of the rule-keeping had been lost: there were rules that were over the top (Mark 2:23-24), rules that were tragically inconsistent and heartless (Luke 13:14-16) and rules that ultimately contradicted God’s own law (Mark 7:9-13). Jesus brought clarity to this situation by insisting that the rules only work when we realize that there is something more fundamental than keeping the rules: we need to know the God who gave these rules, and we need to love what God loves. That’s why the Sermon on the Mount, which talks a lot about God’s law, begins with those sayings about blessedness (Matt 5:3-10). Blessed, for example, are the peacemakers, “for they shall be called sons of God” (Matt 5:9).
As we read more of the Sermon on the Mount, we learn that if we merely live our lives doing what God wants without knowing him as Father or loving what he loves, then, in the end, we will not even enter the kingdom of heaven. But if we know God as Father and love what he loves, then the things he commands (and even more than what he explicitly commands) will be our desires too.
Our relationship with God is not defined ultimately by doing his commandments; it is defined by knowing God as Father, and it is lived through loving what God loves. If we know him as Father, we will do what he commands. If we don’t know him as Father, then no amount of rule-keeping will save us.
Comments on the Sola Panel
From the Sola Panel
What is the most polite way to refer to an old person? Have you noticed how the words we collectively use to refer to old people in the media and in private conversation keep changing? It’s a strange process. We start using a word or phrase, for example, ‘old man’, ‘old woman’. After a while, we decide that this phrase is really a little derogatory, and so we change to another, more neutral phrase, such as ‘senior citizen’. But after a while, ‘senior citizen’ sounds condescending and slightly offensive. So we try another, more neutral, word—like ‘elderly’. But the same thing happens: after we use the word ‘elderly’ for a while, it starts to sound a bit insulting. So we try ‘aged’. Then ‘ageing’. And so on. The reason this keeps happening is that our underlying concept of ageing itself is negative. It doesn’t matter what word we choose to express it; that word will start to take on the negative connotations that we associate with the underlying concept.
Ageing, for us, is a terrible thing. Nobody wants to be old. We have created an entire cosmetic industry dedicated to covering up the disastrous effects of ageing. We don’t want to be look old because we don’t want to be old. Why are we so negative about ageing? It’s because ageing represents the opposite of our core values. We live in a society that puts a huge value on freedom, choice, fulfilment of desires, strength and independence. All these values are far more obtainable by the young than by the old. Increasing age means diminishing freedom, limited choice, lower potential for fulfilment, increasing weakness and growing dependence.
Furthermore, we believe that old people actually limit the potential of the young people around them. Old people are a ‘burden’, a challenge, an increasing demand on an economy that is ‘driven’ by the young. Or at least, this is the way we often talk about ageing.
What light does the gospel of Jesus Christ shed on ageing? The doctrine of creation remind us that God has created a good and ordered world for humans to rule under his loving oversight. Old people, by virtue of their greater experience in this world, have invaluable wisdom to offer the young. Young people need the presence, experience and wisdom of godly old people in our communities, in our homes (e.g. Prov 23:22) and in our churches (e.g. Titus 1:5, 2:3). Old people are not a burden. In fact, we can’t do without them.
Nevertheless, ageing is a reminder that our world is under a curse. The increasing weakness, futility and numbness of old age (Eccl 12:1-6) is merely the forerunner to death (Eccl 12:7), which all stems from God’s judgement for our rebellion against him (Gen 3:19). The debilitating effects of ageing remind us that there is something terribly wrong with our world and our relationship with God, and that should make us turn to him for salvation.
The fact that Jesus came as a servant to die as a ransom for our sins and to help those who cannot help themselves (Mark 10:45 , Romans 5:6) teaches us that God cares for the weak, the feeble, the vulnerable. Following the crucified saviour means caring for those who need our care (Mark 10:43-44, Phil 2:4-11), including the aged among us (1 Tim 5:8). We all need to acknowledge the great value of aged care, and support those individuals and professionals who care for old people.
The resurrection of Jesus Christ shows us that mortality, frailty and death are not God’s final plan for humanity. Jesus’ body didn’t see decay (Acts 13:37); likewise, all those who trust in him look forward to receiving renewed, immortal bodies from God (1 Cor 15:42-44). In Christ, old people, as much as young people, are created in the image of an imperishable, immortal saviour (1 Cor 15:49) and share equally in that massive potential for freedom, glory and fulfilment in the new creation.
But the gospel demands faith and repentance. Do we trust in God’s promises enough to also entrust him with our fears and anxieties about our own ageing? Do we need to change our attitudes and our actions so that we properly value and love the old people in our midst?
Comments on the Sola Panel
My post on the Sola Panel today:
Late last year, Gavin wrote about the importance of being faithful in the small things. I’ve been pondering Gav’s insights, and I’d like to offer a couple of further comments.
Jesus himself directly teaches the importance of faithfulness in small things:
Again you have heard that it was said to those of old, “You shall not swear falsely, but shall perform to the Lord what you have sworn.” But I say to you, Do not take an oath at all, either by heaven, for it is the throne of God, or by the earth, for it is his footstool, or by Jerusalem, for it is the city of the great King. And do not take an oath by your head, for you cannot make one hair white or black. Let what you say be simply “Yes” or “No”; anything more than this comes from evil. (Matt 5:33-37)
Is Jesus, in this passage, issuing a blanket ban on any formal promise-making activity? No, as usual, he’s being far more radical than that. He’s calling the people of his day to account for their hypocrisy. He’s teaching that it’s no good to keep God’s law outwardly while inwardly breaking one of its fundamental principles—in this case, faithfulness.
Jesus may be referring to a particular Pharisaical application of the third commandment: “You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain” (Exod 20:7, Deut 5:11). The Pharisaical application would have gone something like this: if you use God’s name, “the Lord”, when you are swearing an oath, you have to keep it. So how do you tell whether you have made an oath to the Lord? What if you swear toward Jerusalem? That’s an oath to the Lord, because the Lord lives in the temple—in Jerusalem. So you can’t break that oath, either. That would be taking the Lord‘s name in vain. What if you swear by Jerusalem—not toward it, but by it? Well, that’s not an oath to the Lord, because God himself is not actually Jerusalem. So you’re in the clear; you can break that oath. What if you swear by heaven and earth? Is that an oath to the Lord? No, it’s not, because heaven and earth aren’t actually God. So it’s okay to break that oath.
In effect, the Pharisees were distinguishing between ‘core’ and ‘non-core’ promises. While, on the surface, they appeared meticulously faithful in keeping the third commandment, what they were really doing was creating loopholes for themselves. They had created a ‘fingers-crossed-behind-your-back’ mentality to making promises. In doing so, they limited the scope of God’s presence and power.
Jesus’ point is that you should be bound to act on any promise you make. God is Lord of the entire creation, and God is faithful. He keeps all of his promises. It is evil to break promises. The form of words doesn’t matter, nor does the solemnity of the occasion on which the promise was made. In fact, if you truly kept every promise you made, why would you ever need to take a formal oath? All you should need to say is ‘yes’ and ‘no’. That should settle the matter. Jesus’ standard is faithfulness in everything, big or small.
Our personal interactions are full of lots of little promises: “We’ll meet on the 5th of June at 10 am”, “I’ll pray for you”, “I’m happy to be on the morning tea roster in two Sundays’ time”, “I’ll call her to see how she’s going”, “I’ll email you that link”, “I’ll think about it and get back to you”.
Are you the sort of person who keeps your promises? Or do you have reasons why certain promises don’t need to be kept? “I didn’t have my diary on me at the time.” “I forgot.” “Nobody will ever know anyway.” “I lost it.” “I was born between 1980 and 1995.” “Oh yes, sorry, I didn’t remember until it was too late …” “Somebody else will take care of it.” “I didn’t get a reminder.” “It wasn’t one of my priorities. There are bigger things in my life right now.”
Sound familiar?
As somebody who is guilty of using all of the above excuses (except the birth year one), I’d like to offer a tip that I’ve picked up from friends and colleagues—something that has really helped me to be more faithful in the little things. It may sound a little strange, and you may have a better solution that works for you. But for what it’s worth, here’s mine.
The tip involves two habits. Firstly, carry a small notepad and pen around with you all day and scribble down the promises you make as you make them, no matter how small. Then, secondly, at the end (or beginning) of each day, take each of those promises and decide how you’re going to keep them (e.g. write it in your diary, pray straight away, put it on your To Do list, etc.). If you realize you can’t keep a promise, contact the person and apologize as soon as possible.
These two interrelated habits haven’t perfected my faithfulness, but they have helped me to realize the impact of the promises I make, and to act more like the faithful Son of God whom Jesus has called me to imitate. They have also helped me to be far more realistic about the promises I do actually make so that my ‘no’ means something, as well as my ‘yes’.
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