Sic transit gloria mundi ...

Several years ago I gave a speech which was given extensive coverage by the newspaper and the four local tv stations.

The following day an official of the church we then attended called.

“Did you see me on tv,” I asked.

“Yeah. I saw that. But what I’m calling about is -- the janitor goes on vacation next week I need somebody to mop floors and clean the toilets while he’s gone. So I thought of you…”

I had much the same experience yesterday. Friday I finally published Glog. All weekend I have basked in that accomplishment.

And Monday morning I saw that Darlene said all sorts of nice things and posted my photo in her blog comparing my masculine physique to that of tv star Ty Pennington (the whimp).

Heady stuff.

Then, my phone rang.

“I see you’re finished that book thing. So now you’re free to help me shuffle cars to the shop,” said the elderly gentleman on the line.

Then someone called needing me to drive them to the hospital.

Then two more callers. One with a simple computer question; one with a historical research problem.

Then an elderly neighborfrom a few blocks down the street came by our house wanting me to transport some children’s clothing to the mission.

Not having our car, I walked to his house with my wheelbarrow to pick up the bags of clothes. On my way, I saw the garbagemen had dumped the empty cans right in the middle of my next door neighbor’s driveway. I moved them so she could get in her drive when she gets off work. A Nuisance Task. “Some people are too sorry to be garbagemen,” I grumbled.

As I loaded the clothing bags into my wheelbarrow, the old man’s wife said, “The bushes out back are overgrown. Could you come chop them down for us”?

They have grandsons a whole lot bigger and younger than I am, so I asked if the grandsons could do that when they come for supper?

“Oh, I wouldn’t ask them,” she said. “There’s snakes all out in those bushes and they’re scared of snakes”.

I’m not scared of the snakes but I feel that if the grandsons eat there, they can work there. So I passed on that opportunity.

But I feel guilty about it.

I’m all hot to trot on my next writing project and here I am besieged with requests for menial service. Hey, I’m a published author; I’m too good for that dirty hands stuff ain’t I?

No.

No. I’m not.

I can’t write Christian if I don’t live Christian.

Christ died so that I might be saved, not so that I might be important.

A servant is no better than his Master and if He washed dirty feet then I’m certainly not to think myself above doing the same.

But I do.

In my heart, I do.

Brother Lawrence said that God counts not the greatness of a task but the love with which it is done.

Well, I don’t rack up any Heavenly points in that area either, because although I agreed to do the things the various people needed, I resented being asked to do them.

Remember the Bible story about the guy who asked his two sons to harvest grapes?

One son said, “Sure thing, Dad. I’ll get right on that”… but he didn’t go.

The other son said, “Hell No! I won’t go”… but he trudged on out there and picked the stupid grapes and dumped them in the vat.

I identify with that second son.

You know, if God spoke to me directly, if He appeared to me in a burning bush, (my first reaction would be to grab a fire extinguisher) But if He did speak directly, I think I’d pay attention to what He wanted.

Trouble is, God doesn’t speak to me directly; He always seems to say what He wants through other people.

I mean, not many of us would turn down a direct request from God Almighty.

But, when it’s that pest down the street who conveys the request…

But is it really God who wants me to do goody-goody stuff for people? Is that part of being Christian? Or do I just want to be thought well of? Hey, I was a Boy Scout long before I became a Christian and I had the Scout oath and motto and all that engrained in me before I ever learned a Bible verse. “Do a good turn daily… A Scout is helpful… To help other people at all times… Trustworthy. Loyal. Friendly…”

When I say yes to folks who ask my help, am I being Christian or just a geriatric Boy Scout?

Then I wonder, are requests for mundane help opportunities to serve Christ or are they hindrances to the work of writing which I really should be doing?

Are such requests for help just obstacles which keep me from my writing goals? Don’t I have an important contribution to make to Christian literature? Why, I have this idea for a world-changing book; I think I’ll entitle it: The World’s Greatest Book On Humility by John W. Cowart.

Doesn’t that have a nice ring to it?

Perhaps such nonsensical ideas are one reason God never lets me make the Times Best-Seller list. He knows such success would cool my heart, puff my head, and snare my soul.

Am I too high-falutin a writer, too self-important a person, to give help without resentment and bitterness? Can’t the little people who have not written a book do those things?

Do I really mean it when I tell Christ, “Yes, Lord. Whatever. Whenever. However”?

Do I intend to be a Christian guts, feathers and all?

Is Christ the Lord of my energy, my money, my time?

Or do I just use Him as a springboard to enhance my own reputation?

Of course then this verse comes to mind: The Lord Loveth A Cheerful Giver.

Damn!

I’m supposed to be cheerful too?

O crap! Looks like I need to take off my shoes, climb in that vat, and stomp those damn grapes –

Cheerful? That I’m gonna have to work on.