The image was startling - so startling, in fact, that I haven't been able to let it go. The speaker was talking about the pride that often keeps us from being grateful. He said that it would be good for us to resist evaluating the hardships of others too easily - and, at the same time, he was asking that we exhibit a little humility in taking credit for the good things in our own lives. To make his point, he used this arresting baseball picture:
We were born on third base,
yet we stand there
bragging about hitting a triple.
yet we stand there
bragging about hitting a triple.
Years later, I still think about that comment almost every day.
I understand how important it is for us to feel that we somehow deserve the life that we have. It makes us feel good to believe that what we have is a direct result of our choices, our effort, and our ability. "I've worked hard," we boast. "And my hard work has paid off." Wrapped up in that attitude is another thought: "If other people worked as hard I do, they too could have the life that I have."
Obviously, it's important to work hard. What is sometimes called "the Protestant work ethic" is deeply ingrained in the American psyche. Theologically tied to the thought of John Calvin, and developed further in the sociology of Max Weber, the theory is based on the idea that God's elect ones will be blessed by God - and that his blessing will be evident in successful, productive lives. Being successful is a sign of God's favor. And here's where the theory gets interesting. If I work hard, I have a greater chance of being successful. If success is an indication of God's blessing, then I can work especially hard to demonstrate that I'm one of the elect. It almost becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy: my hard work can actually make me one of the elect! At least, it can prove that I am. That kind of thinking is simply a part of our culture; and it's one of the reasons that hard work is one of our societal core values.
And that's not all bad. What's troubling, though, is the pride that this perspective fosters. The motto of a life built on hard work is: Look what I have done! That motto is typically linked to an unspoken (and sometimes spoken!) addendum: And if you were like me, your life would look just like mine.
Which is, of course, not always true.
I have walked among abject poverty recently. I bristle at the comment: "How can people live like this?" The comment suggests that people have chosen this kind of life. The comment ignores crushing economic, political, social, and spiritual realities. The comment belittles others and glorifies ourselves. The comment really means this: If you were like me, your life would be different.
That attitude reveals more than we want to admit. Not only do we deserve what we have, but the people dealing with hardship deserve their lives as well. As wrong as that attitude is, it does help us make sense of the world. So while Kenyans are massacred in a mall, and Syrians by the hundreds of thousands are driven into exile, and young people in Chicago fall prey to gun violence, we are loose with our explanations and evaluations. That's what happens when you live in a place like Nairobi. That's the cost of not having a democracy. How are those gun-control laws working out for you now? May God forgive us for our pride.
The fact of the matter is that all of our talk about deserving things is out of place. People who deal with grievous heartache don't necessarily deserve their pain - any more than we deserve the life that we've been given.
A long time ago, a building fell and eighteen people were killed. Jesus' disciples had it all figured out. Their conclusion was that those eighteen people were somehow deserving of that outcome. But Jesus called them up short. He used that tragic current event to challenge his disciples to think about their own lives. (Luke 13:1-5). Today's news stories should probably cause us to do the same.
So do we all get what we deserve? You've got to be kidding. This thing that we call life is a great mystery. And it calls for radical humility. When it comes to explaining the hard things that happen, we should be slow to speak. And when it comes to explaining our own lives, we should simply say, "Thank you."
After all, many of us were born on third base. We didn't hit a triple; we were born there. And we had nothing - absolutely nothing - to do with that.
Obviously, it's important to work hard. What is sometimes called "the Protestant work ethic" is deeply ingrained in the American psyche. Theologically tied to the thought of John Calvin, and developed further in the sociology of Max Weber, the theory is based on the idea that God's elect ones will be blessed by God - and that his blessing will be evident in successful, productive lives. Being successful is a sign of God's favor. And here's where the theory gets interesting. If I work hard, I have a greater chance of being successful. If success is an indication of God's blessing, then I can work especially hard to demonstrate that I'm one of the elect. It almost becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy: my hard work can actually make me one of the elect! At least, it can prove that I am. That kind of thinking is simply a part of our culture; and it's one of the reasons that hard work is one of our societal core values.
And that's not all bad. What's troubling, though, is the pride that this perspective fosters. The motto of a life built on hard work is: Look what I have done! That motto is typically linked to an unspoken (and sometimes spoken!) addendum: And if you were like me, your life would look just like mine.
Which is, of course, not always true.
I have walked among abject poverty recently. I bristle at the comment: "How can people live like this?" The comment suggests that people have chosen this kind of life. The comment ignores crushing economic, political, social, and spiritual realities. The comment belittles others and glorifies ourselves. The comment really means this: If you were like me, your life would be different.
That attitude reveals more than we want to admit. Not only do we deserve what we have, but the people dealing with hardship deserve their lives as well. As wrong as that attitude is, it does help us make sense of the world. So while Kenyans are massacred in a mall, and Syrians by the hundreds of thousands are driven into exile, and young people in Chicago fall prey to gun violence, we are loose with our explanations and evaluations. That's what happens when you live in a place like Nairobi. That's the cost of not having a democracy. How are those gun-control laws working out for you now? May God forgive us for our pride.
The fact of the matter is that all of our talk about deserving things is out of place. People who deal with grievous heartache don't necessarily deserve their pain - any more than we deserve the life that we've been given.
A long time ago, a building fell and eighteen people were killed. Jesus' disciples had it all figured out. Their conclusion was that those eighteen people were somehow deserving of that outcome. But Jesus called them up short. He used that tragic current event to challenge his disciples to think about their own lives. (Luke 13:1-5). Today's news stories should probably cause us to do the same.
So do we all get what we deserve? You've got to be kidding. This thing that we call life is a great mystery. And it calls for radical humility. When it comes to explaining the hard things that happen, we should be slow to speak. And when it comes to explaining our own lives, we should simply say, "Thank you."
After all, many of us were born on third base. We didn't hit a triple; we were born there. And we had nothing - absolutely nothing - to do with that.