As To Unfinished Business

August 31, 2009

Dear Fellow Travelers,

If you have any unfinished business for August, you had better hurry and finish it, as today is your last chance. Speaking of unfinished business, have you noticed how most of us never seem to be able to finish anything. For the most part, we seem to be under such pressure to get to the next piece of “pressing business,” that we most always leave some unfinished business on our plates; there always seems to be something “we should have done” hanging over our heads. There is no wonder that GERD (reflux disease, aka as indigestion) is so prevalent among believers.
I well-remember that part of my life when I NEVER seemed to finish anything—literally. About the time I got the grocery store opened for the day, one of the several refrigerators would have a compressor go bad. As soon as the repairman arrived, someone would call needing the ambulance. As soon as I put the ambulance in motion, someone would call telling me that their roast was too-tough-to-eat. After “patiently” listening to that story, I would arrive at the accident scene, to learn that someone I knew very well had just been killed in a head-on collision. Obviously, that meant a trip to our funeral home, to begin the sometimes long process of directing a funeral. In the meantime, the repairman would call wanting to know where the circuit breaker was for the refrigerator. In the midst of all of this, the state health inspector would arrive at the grocery story to do his inspection, which meant that I had to leave everything, return to the grocery store, to accommodate his wishes. I know this is difficult for you to believe, but it is true, nevertheless: as I would walk into the grocery story to meet the health inspector, more times than not, someone would meet me at the front door, wanting to know, if I was interested in buying a couple of bushels of peas, to sell in our produce department.
There is more! As I would stop to consider the peas, one of my employees would come to me, telling me that Mrs. Smith (Jones, Andrews, whoever) was on the phone, wondering why I wasn’t at her house, installing her carpet. My response was quick: Tell her that I am late because John (Frank, Sam, Edith, someone) was killed in the auto accident, but I am on the way; should be there in less than thirty minutes. I purchase the peas, only to hear the phone ring again, hoping that someone else would answer it, but in my business, waiting was not an option, so, “Hello, this is Mac.” On the other end would be the raspy, demanding voice of one of Reynolds’ senior citizens, telling me that she needed me to deliver six coca colas—three cold and three at room temperature—and for Hanson (the delivery man) to put the three cold ones in her refrigerator and the other three in her pantry. She always needed them, immediately. Exactly three minutes later, she would call wanting to know why the Cokes were not at her house! I am serious!
As I looked over my shoulder, I could see the H.V. Kell (grocery company) delivery truck backing up to the door, which meant that Virginia could not be sick—not today—but of all days, she is sick and not at work. So, I say to the driver, “I have to go to the funeral home for a few minutes, so please stack everything in this hallway, and I will be right back to check the order.” (In my world, “right back” could mean anything from five minutes to 24 hours.)
With more loose ends, than a room full of people with severe diarrhea, I would finally make it home, somewhere around midnight, for a few hours of sleep. You guessed it! More times than not, about the time my head hit my pillow, the phone would ring, and the tone of the voice on the other end would tell me that I wasn’t finished, not by a long-shot.
I could go on-and-on, but thank God, He removed me from that world into the slow-paced world of the pastorate. Yea, right! That first part of my life was, merely, a boot camp that prepared me for the second part of my life—the pastorate. Trust me on this: that first part of my life was a piece of cake, compared to the second part. This past Saturday morning, I was listening to a Jewish Rabbi preach, and somewhere in his message he said (pointing to his thick brown hair), “See these gray hairs! This is what being a Rabbi will do to you.” I wanted to stand up and say, “See my altogether white hair? This is what being a pastor will do for you” but I kept quiet.
When I reached the ripe old age of 65, something significant happened: These words of Jesus (John 19:30) jumped off the page at me (though completely out of context): IT IS FINISHED! As I read those words in their context, this became very clear to me: The man who had the most important, demanding task ever given to anyone, the man, whose task it was to carry out, precisely, every detail of His Father’s plan of redemption, and to do so at the exactly the right time, had uttered the most astonishing words I had ever heard—IT IS FINISHED. No loose ends, no unfinished business, nothing left to do; His work was finished—perfectly and completely.
The Scriptures tell us that He, then, sat down at His Father’s right hand (after the resurrection, of course). I want to tell you that He did so, not because He was tired, or be-hind in His business, or running late, but because His work was finished. “. . . but He, having offered one sacrifice for sins for all time, sat down at the right hand of God” (Hebrews 10:12).
At that ripe old age of 65 (I am now 67), I decided it was time for me to take Him at His Word, to learn from Him, and never again to live my life, as if He needed me to help Him finish His work, to never again live my life, as if He somehow needed me to wrap us His loose ends. In other words, it dawned upon me, that only a few things are important, really only one (words that Jesus spoke to Martha), so I chose to SLOW DOWN, to cast off most of what I thought was important, especially, the “living according to the expectations of others” part, and to spend huge amounts of time doing what most consider a waste—sitting at His feet, listening to His Word, and resting in His finished work.
At first, this was very difficult because I had been programmed for a different modus operandi (sometimes, it is still difficult because of what I perceive to be the expectations of others, and my desire to please them!); however, I am getting much better at it, and, to be sure, I highly recommend it to you.
Listen up: YOU are not the world’s savior, not even close. If you should drop dead in the next ten minutes, life would not skip even one beat. God really does NOT need either of us to help Him finish His plan, or to get everyone saved. Get off the treadmill! I have never known a treadmill to take anyone, anywhere, except to exhaustion.
The fact is this: God does not need you or me! He can get along quite nicely without either of us. It is our neighbor that needs us, but most of us are too exhausted to be of any benefit to him; consequently, most of what we do for him is done with an attitude that probably doesn’t pass muster. You think about that—