A Good Man

Since I became a man, I have always tried to be a good man.

I know from reading the Bible that I’m not good; Jeremiah 17:9a tells us that “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick;“ So I know by at least one standard (the most important standard) I’m not good at all. But by the standards of this realm, I’ve tried to be good.

Like many of us, during the Misspent Days Of My Youth I was a poor example of decency; into petty crime, sexuality, drinking, casual racism, and the list goes on. But even then I knew I was wrong to do these things, and that to wander further down those darkening roads was a bad idea. I knew I needed to return to the lighted ways, and though I wasn’t a believer at that time, I can remember thinking that I wanted to be ‘on the side of the angels’. Funny that I, an unbeliever, should choose such a phrase… By the time I entered my twenties most of that misbehavior was behind me. (most of it….I was still in college…)

Since then I’ve tried to live by the golden rule, and treat others the way I’d want to be treated. Again, I didn’t know it then, but that’s in the Bible as well. (Matthew 7, Luke 6, and, indirectly, elsewhere) And as my Father has led me closer to Him, I’ve come to understand that His Spirit has been at work in my life for a longer time than I realized, teaching me the way I should go. I’ve also learned that as we make our way, the choices get harder, and too often there is no ‘right’ answer, merely an assortment of ‘more wrong’ and ‘less wrong’. Life becomes grays.

But I’ve always tried to remain upright, especially while raising our son. If I didn’t live the truths I was trying to teach him, how could I expect him to set his star by them when it was time for him to make his own choices? I’ve long felt quite strongly that it’s only important to have morals when it hurts to have them. Anyone can be strong when the temptation is across the sea, but when it’s across the room, or across the table? That’s when morals matter ~ when it actually hurts, or embarrasses, or costs you money, or endangers you to say or do the right thing. If call yourself honest but cheat on your taxes or stay silent when the cashier gives you too much change….you’re not really honest. One person I know likes going to yard sales and hunting for valuable collectibles that the owner is selling for a pittance. He likes taking advantage of the seller’s lack of knowledge. I asked him if he ever tells them what the item is worth before he buys it, and he looked at me like my face had grown tentacles. Then he snickered, and said, “No, of course not!” For him, taking advantage of people is part of the enjoyment. I find a shadow of darkness in that approach, and my estimation of his poor character was unfortunately borne out years later. I’m sure many people would tell me it’s just good business to give someone merely the price they, in their ignorance, are asking. But I have a hard time accepting a gain or a blessing if someone else had to suffer loss as a result. I’d rather see us both benefit instead.

The trouble is, there are other terms which can be used to describe an honest man. Fool, for one. Patsy. Schmuck. Loser. And those descriptions apply to me as well. I don’t agree with them, of course. But in today’s America, honesty is no longer in vogue. Character is largely missing from our society these days, in part I believe because everybody thinks everybody else is cheating–so why shouldn’t they? Having morals is not only uncommon today, we have corrupted the very ideas of truth and decency and good character to the point that we now disagree about what truth is, what honesty requires of us. Someone wiser and more eloquent than me said ‘a half-truth is still a whole lie’, but I believe that’s dismissed by many as a ridiculous notion. Why tell the entire truth, when telling just part of it would do as well?

I don’t know if it’s true, but I recall hearing that George Carlin once said “Life is all about what you’ll do for fifty bucks, and what you’ll do with fifty bucks.” That does seem to capsulize the issue nicely. I’ve used that idea over the years as something of a signpost. I can’t –honestly– say that I’ve always done the right thing. But I want to, and I try to. I volunteer. I tithe to my church, although not yet at the ten percent the Bible calls me to give. When I see someone with a sign on a corner, I’ll frequently give them five or ten bucks. A good man I know related the story that his late wife, upon seeing someone in need and looking for a handout, would offer to buy them a meal and whatever other supplies they needed, and I’ve done that as well.

But the truth remains: in the eyes of Almighty God, all my good deeds are nothing. Isaiah 64:6a says “All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags…” (NIV) In fact, the Hebrew phrase translated in the NIV as ‘filthy rags’ and elsewhere as ‘polluted garments’ actually means ‘garments of menstruation’. That makes it pretty clear what God thinks of my goodness. So why bother? Why does He say to me in James 2:17 “Even so faith, if it hath not works, is dead, being alone.” (KJB)?

I think the answer is because of something most of us overlook, which we take for granted in our arrogance: free will. God gave us the right to choose. To choose Jesus over Satan. Right over wrong. Faith over despair. Light over darkness. The next world over this one. Self-control over wild abandon. Someone else’s good over our own pleasure. I’ve been reading the book of Genesis recently, and in it we see the roots of the current Middle East conflict, between the descendants of Ishmael and Esau, and those of Isaac and Jacob: modern-day Arabs, and Israel. Ishmael and Esau were both first-born sons, but in both of these cases God chose the second sons, Isaac and Jacob, for Himself. But He allowed the two sons He passed over to be born first, to come into the world, and even more, to be blessed by Him as the fathers of many nations, which they did become. Why allow this, unless He wanted us to have to choose? Why state in His Word that we were “…created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.“ (Ephesians 2:10b) if He considers those works menstrual rags? So we could choose to do them. So we could choose to be obedient to Him. So others could see the light of the Holy Spirit in us, acting through us, and wonder about it, perhaps investigate this Jesus, and maybe even bow to Him. Could God have created perfect children who never choose sin? Of course He could. It seems to me that what he wanted in His heaven were children who had seen evil, and chosen the light over that darkness.

So I have chosen to be a good man, as good in the many passing moments of each day as I can be. I fall short, and sometimes fall into repetitious patterns of sin and failure. But I always want to be on the side of the angels, and in my unworthiness to be a servant to, and an ambassador for, the Great I AM. I continue to try and hold myself to a higher standard than the world around me, not because I’m any better, but because I want to please my God. May His Will be done in me, and through me.

Am I old?

Am I old?

I don’t feel old, not really. But have I grown old?

As I write this, I’m in my late 50’s. That fact alone may answer the question, for some. I have more health issues than I used to, that’s true. I find I look at some things in terms of the value of what I receive versus the energy I have to expend to receive it. Some may tell me that this answers my question as well.

But here’s the thing: I don’t feel ‘old’. I feel as though I’ve experienced a fair bit of life, and that’s a different feeling. I feel like I’ve learned a few things, about living life, about what’s important and what’s not, about how to let go of things that earlier in my life I refused to. And that’s what makes me ask the question. Am I old, or have I just begun to understand the long view of life?

If I’m honest -and I am, or try to be, always- I have to admit that there are times when my energy for a given day becomes exhausted, and that didn’t used to happen. Maybe once a month, I’ll find myself dozing off for thirty minutes or an hour in the evening, and that didn’t used to happen, either. So it seems clear that the boundless energy reserves of my youth are ebbing, and that’s probably a sign of the lengthening stream of years which have passed beneath the bridge. I can’t deny that truth. Does that make me old?

I understand now that hate and envy are blinders, which keep me focused on the wrong parts of life. I understand that rage burns me, not the other person. I understand that for all my filth and sin, Almighty God still wants me in His heaven. That makes me feel young, and valued, and loved. I understand that things are going to get worse, because God says in His Word that they will. So I don’t worry as much about the way my American society seems to be crumbling around me. I carried that burden throughout much of my life; I don’t feel it nearly as much anymore. My understanding of the things around me, of the way in which life unfolds, has grown, and continues to grow.

So perhaps the answer depends on how I choose to define “old”. By many standards of my little world, by the larger society around me…I am, in fact, old. Shall I choose to let that define me? To some extent, that’s not up to me. I am at the mercy of those with power, with authority over me. But to the extent I have the ability to define myself, I think I will continue to choose to see most of my life as not old. I say ‘most of my life’, because I don’t mind not helping friends move to a new home anymore, or not changing my own oil, or not being expected to run anywhere. I’m not opposed to taking occasional advantage of some of the benefits of having seen as much of life as I have. I miss hiking, which I did a little of during the misspent days of my youth, and just wandering in the woods. (A friend of mine is a stringer, a person who takes photographs, typically of local high school sporting events, or car accidents, or fires, and sells them to newspapers or websites. He laughingly commented, “Years ago I’d steal a glance or take a quick photo of the cheerleaders. Then nobody thought anything of it, but now I’m ‘Creepy Old Guy’!”) It’s interesting, and sometimes depressing, how merely the passage of years has affected how I’m perceived. I’m still the same guy, more or less. But the way others view me is different than in the days when I was twenty-five.

I choose to view myself as experienced. Older in years, yes, but perhaps a better consumer of the years that are to come. Hopefully a little wiser, as a result of the days I’ve already lived. A little slower on the video game trigger, but smarter about how to battle the bosses. A better person because of what my Lord has taught me, and maybe less concerned about the things that happen along the way, because I know He is control. I know where my final destination is, and I know I’ll be welcomed with loving arms when I get there. And that’s something to look forward to.