Tuesday, June 19, 2012

As for me and my house . . .


Like a lot of other preacher-types, I spent a lot of last week getting ready for Father's Day.  It was a privilege to share some words from one of the Old Testament's great patriarchs, Joshua.  I always feel a lump in my throat, when I close my eyes, feel the Israeli breeze, and hear Joshua say, "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord."  Joshua was 110 years old when he gave his speech.  Like most old soldiers I imagine him as standing erect--he probably worked the kinks out as he got up to speak--looking at the representative gathering of his nation with that straight-ahead, no nonsense bearing that tends to mark old soldiers.  I figure that before he uttered this line he paused, perhaps cleared his throat, and mentally reviewed  what he knew about his family, at this point a number of generations deep.  I have to think he knew, this was the quotable line.  Perhaps he had even practiced articulating the words.  For more than 3,000 years dads have been hearing the words of the old patriarch, and we are still challenged.  
I don't understand everything about the way families turn out.  In yesterday's message, in addition to talking about Joshua, I talked about another dad, King Manasseh.  He was a sorry king and an even sorrier father.  (2 Chronicles 33)  It is no surprise that he raised a wicked son, Amon.  I do wonder at the fact that the next generation included a boy of rare Godliness and courage, Josiah.  
I have observed that in general Godly fathers beget Godly families, which beget other Godly families.  While there are anomalies like Josiah, in general the converse is true. It is that syndromes that allowed the Old patriarch to make his claim that would have normally sounded like pure arrogance.  How could this old man with one foot in the grave claim to speak for the four generations, or so, that by this time constituted his house?  He spoke in confidence of what had already taken place.  

I experienced a bit of that yesterday.  I attribute it to God's goodness.  I heard reports of my son's and some of grandchildren involved in serving the Lord.  On this day after Father's Day, with humility and great thanksgiving, I quote Joshua's words, "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.


What is worse, the disease or the cure?


If it is not an actual sickness, it certainly bears resemblance to some diseases, notably the common cold.  People have their opinions as to how one catches a cold.  The theories tend to line up on the side of the medical experts--"a virus"--and moms--"You went out in a cold rain without a hat on."  (It doesn't matter who is right.  Go with mom.  She'll bake you a birthday cake; your physician won't.)
My wife and I caught this bug.  I'm fairly sure I caught it from her--likely she put something in my iced-tea.  
It started with a project that created a pretty noticeable mess.  Installing a heat-pump system required, cutting holes, gutting a closet, and working in the attic, with the inevitable shower of debris.  The mess went from mild to moderate with some other perfectly logical, "while we're at it," additions to the project.  Of course when the project was finished--or nearly so--remember my horseshoe nail tale--the clean-up has to take place.  This is when evidence of a virus became unmistakable.  The "while we're at it," and "it would be a shame to" additions to the simple "sweep up the sawdust and put stuff away" basic requirement, are still growing.  Boxes of old tax records are being burned.  An office space was subjected to a Sherman-like scouring.  Material has been discovered which, "we don't need or want," but which, "is too good to throw away," and so a correlated complication will be a garage sale.  The plague was already headed to the home of my automobiles and tools, but the spread of the infection was made sure by mention of a sale, and impending company.  
The thing is now in a full-blown metastacized state.  "It doesn't make sense to clean the shop and then come back and make a mess fixing that beam that the bugs got in a while back . . . ."  (This was my reasoning, not my lovely's.)
Where will it end?  
I do believe in heaven!

Even people like me who are content to live in squalor--as long as there are no dead, stinky things involved--have a desire for order (enough to satisfy our desire).  We live in a world, however, which, if left to itself, becomes increasingly chaotic.  It is one aspect of the Fall

So, I guess maybe the syndrome I speak of is caused by a sickness after all; one that no amount of sweeping and scrubbing can cure, sin.  Of infinitely greater importance than the mess outside is the chaos within each of us.  We need help.
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