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Taking One’s Self Too Seriously |
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My favorite atheist was Bertrand
Russell. Being a first-rate
mathematician and close associate of Alfred North Whitehead, he tended
toward a radical and almost naive consistency and in the process gave us
some terrific statements to use in presenting the gospel.
He clearly understood the temporal implications of rejecting God’s
truth, not unlike Moses in Deuteronomy 30:15, “See, I set before you
today life and prosperity, death and destruction.”
Take, for example, this excerpt from his July 19, 1903, “Letter
to Goldie:” “Why should you suppose I think it
foolish to wish to see the people one is fond of?
What else is there to make life tolerable?
We stand on the shore of an ocean, crying to the night and the
emptiness; sometimes a voice answers out of the darkness.
But it is a voice of one drowning; and in a moment the silence
returns. The world seems to
me quite dreadful; the unhappiness of most people is very great, and I
often wonder how they all endure it.
To know people well is to know their tragedy:
it is usually the central thing about which their lives are built. And I suppose if they did not live most of the time in the
things of the moment, they would not be able to go on.” [Bertrand Russell, The Autobiography of Bertrand Russell
(New York: Routledge, 2000),
p. 194.] Russell did try to cope with life as
an atheist and sometimes had good advice, advice that is keenly insightful
even for Bible-believing Christians: “A great many worries can be
diminished by realizing the unimportance of the matters, which is causing
anxiety. Our doings are not so important as we naturally suppose; our
successes and failures do not after all matter very much . . . One of the
symptoms of approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one’s work
is terribly important and that to take a holiday would bring all kinds of
disaster. If I were a medical man, I should prescribe a holiday to any
patient who considered his work important.”
[Bertrand Russell, The Conquest of Happiness (New York:
Liveright Books, 1971), p. 61.] I agree with Russell’s assessment
about not taking ourselves too seriously, not because of atheism, but
because of radical, thoroughgoing theism.
Indeed, to be an atheist and not take one’s self terribly
seriously is to stand at the precipice of complete insanity.
Sure, bad stuff happens, but the Bible teaches that God always
causes it to bless those who belong to him.
Take the case of Joseph: he
was hated and betrayed by his own brothers who sold him into slavery.
Then he was betrayed by a jealous woman; she falsely accused him of
trying to rape her, and he was thrown into prison where he was forgotten
for years, in spite of a promise to the contrary.
What kept Joseph from hating all the people who betrayed him?
What kept him from suicidal despair and depression?
How was he able to maintain a cheerful spirit and keep on keeping
on with the ugly and empty tasks of life?
Joseph gives the answer when his
brothers come to plead for mercy after their father’s death: “You
intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is
now being done, the saving of many lives.” (Genesis 50:20.) Joseph didn’t excuse his brothers’
sin as if they were not free moral agents and fully accountable for what
they had done, nor did he minimize the gravity of their wicked actions as
if they had not really intended him deadly harm.
But Joseph was never really harmed by any of the things that
happened to him. This was
because he regularly took an antidote to bitterness, a divine cordial, the
thankful acknowledgment of the absolute sovereignty of God who is in
complete control of the world and who is causing everything to work for
the blessing of those who love him. “In him we were also chosen,
having been predestined according to the plan of him who works out
everything in conformity with the purpose of his will.” (Ephesians
1:11.) “And we know that all things work
together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called
according to his purpose.” Such theological convictions did not
cause Joseph to withdraw from life with a “Que Sera, Sera” attitude of
indifference. No, he forged
ahead, always doing all he could to improve the quality of life around
him. He always wholeheartedly
served the people with whom he was placed.
His example reminds us of Peter and Paul’s admonitions in the New
Testament. “Slaves, obey your earthly masters
in everything; and do it, not only when their eye is on you and to win
their favor, but with sincerity of heart and reverence for the Lord.
Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the
Lord, not for men, since you know that you will receive an inheritance
from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.”
(Colossians 3:22-24.) “Slaves, submit yourselves to your
masters with all respect, not only to those who are good and considerate,
but also to those who are harsh. For it is commendable if a man bears up
under the pain of unjust suffering because he is conscious of God.” (1
Peter 2:18, 19.) But when Joseph could be free, he
took advantage of it, not for freedom in itself—such freedom is but
another kind of slavery—he used his freedom to serve God by serving
others. “Were you a slave when you were
called? Don’t let it trouble you—although if you can gain your
freedom, do so.” (1 Corinthians 7:21.) Fundamentally, Joseph’s attitude
was no different as Vizier of Egypt than it had been during those long
years in prison. He still
served others with vigor and diligence and directly oversaw the day to day
operation of the system that he had set up to save the lives of those
around him. (Genesis 42:6 ff.) So,
while on the one hand, we can say that Joseph took his tasks in life
seriously, it wasn’t as most folks tend to do, because Joseph didn’t
see himself as really important; he simply understood that he was a tool
that God chose to use for a season. In
spite of his ascent to the pinnacle of power as the second most
influential man in the entire world, it never went to Joseph’s head.
He saw himself as an ordinary person with
an extraordinary calling, an imperfect conduit of perfect grace. I submit that the key to Joseph’s
sanity was that he didn’t take himself too seriously.
He trusted God while being keenly aware of human frailty and
sinfulness, including his own. I
try to remember this, especially when I am engaged in conflict with
others. Whenever I begin to
take myself and what I’m doing really seriously, I tend to begin to
violate other people and use them for my own advantage:
I want to succeed whatever the cost, at times even to the injury of
my own soul. When this starts
to happen, I need to stop—oftentimes more than once a day—and ask, “What
difference does this really make? What
happens if it doesn’t get done? What
happens if I have a heart attack and die—will God’s kingdom come to an
end—will he cease to take care of my family and my congregation?” Death is gain for the believer, and
being assured of this truly sets us free from fear, not only the fear of
death, but all the other things that hold us in bondage, too. (Philippians 1:21; Hebrews 2:15.) Being truly free in Christ, free from all condemnation and
guilt, (Romans 8.) and assured that we are a little part of a great, big
plan, a truly good plan, frees us to rejoice in all our circumstances. (1 Thessalonians 5:18.) It also frees us to laugh, to laugh
at ourselves and all the silly things we do and say, because we all act
like idiots at times and sometimes talk like fools. “A merry heart makes a cheerful
countenance, but by sorrow of the heart the spirit is broken.” (Proverbs
15:13.) “All the days of the afflicted are
evil: but he who is of a merry heart has a continual feast.” (Proverbs
15:15.) “A merry heart does good like a
medicine: but a broken spirit dries the bones.” (Proverbs 17:22.) The medieval church with its
superstition and uncertainty about salvation had forgotten how to laugh; Luther
restored this great gift with a self-deprecatory gusto and earthiness that
still makes me laugh when I read his Table Talk. E-mail lists can be edifying, and it
is good to defend the faith. But
in doing so, we must not take ourselves and what we write too seriously.
Sometimes we simply “need to get a life.”
In fact, as soon as I post this, my wife and I are going to ride
our motorcycle off into the wilderness. “Quare—Me Sollicito? Legero Insanus.” (A. E. Neuman) |