“Turn from evil and do good; then you will dwell in the land forever.”

–          Psalm 37:27 

I recall sitting in the office of an executive with the Wall Street firm where I was once employed discussing the challenges of dealing with unethical or marginally ethical people within our industry.  (Every profession has them, by the way.)  The executive with whom I was meeting made a comment I will never forget.  Bad people never last, he assured me.  Eventually they go too far, step over the line, and get caught resulting in disciplinary action, firing, revoked licenses, law suits, or prosecution – and on rare occasions all the above.  I disagreed at the time; for it seemed these clever shysters were ever present in my world placing an enormous burden on my staff and me to constantly monitor and police their activities – not the best use of our time and energy.  It’s just a fact of life, though, that from petty dishonesty to crime to terrorism to murderous dictatorships, evil is forever among us, and indeed has been throughout the history of mankind.

Someone once said that no matter how things may appear, there is no future in evil, only in good.  Pondering that has caused me to take heart; for discouraging as it is when it seems the bad guys win, when we consider that throughout history when evil actually is defeated – and it always is eventually, though not necessarily within our lifetimes – it is because in some way good has prevailed, thus validating that there is no future in evil, only in good.  Or as my old Wall Street executive friend assured me, bad people never last.

On Mount Sinai Moses received the same assurance from the Lord himself who said, “. . . for I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children for the sin of the fathers to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me, but showing love to a thousand generations of those who love me and keep my commandments.”

So, we should take heart in doing good, for by doing so we are paving a path for the future; as there is no future in evil, only in good.  Or as the Psalmist affirms, “. . . do good; then you will dwell in the land forever.”

“For when I am weak, then I am strong.”  – 2 Corinthians 12:10 

If you’ve ever seen the 1986 movie “Hoosiers”, about a small-town high school basketball team, you might recall there was a rather obscure character in the story by the name of Ollie McLellan.  The story takes place in a tiny community in rural Indiana back in the early 1950’s where Coach Norman Dale (played by Gene Hackman) was hired to coach the team.  Despite much resistance within the community to his unusual coaching style, Coach Dale nevertheless succeeded in taking the team all the way to the state championship where they defeated one of the largest high school teams in the state.

There is a scene early in the movie where on Coach Dale’s first day on the job he is trying to get acquainted with the ragtag group of players on the team, of which there were only seven.  Going around to each one he asked for their name and what position they played.  When he got to Ollie, a clumsy little short guy, Ollie responded that he was really the team’s manager, he only suited up for practice and to warm the bench during the games.  “I’m too short,” he explained, “I ain’t no good,” as his teammates chuckled.

It has been said that the one test of a person’s strength is that person’s knowledge of his or her weakness.  I would add that it is also a test of a person’s strength that the person be willing to admit his or her weakness.  Ollie’s strength, as it turned out, was much more than taking care of the team’s uniforms and warming the bench; his real strength was in admitting, “I’m too short, I ain’t no good.”  The test came at the very end of one of the critical games after someone fouled out leaving only four players on the floor.  In goes Ollie, the only sub, who immediately got fouled.  Miraculously Ollie sunk his free-throw to win the game, advancing them to the state tournament.  It was his moment of glory.

I’ve watched “Hoosiers” dozens of times over the years, it being one of my all-time favorite movies.  But it has only been in recent years that I have come to fully appreciate Ollie, maybe from recalling all those times when I too have been “too short,” and “ain’t no good.”  Except, unlike Ollie, I refused to admit it.  “For when I am weak, then I am strong,” says the Apostle Paul.  That’s because when we admit we are weak, allowing space for God to fill us with His power, then we are stronger than we could ever be on our own.  And that’s exactly what happened with Ollie McLellan.

“. . . a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.”  – Luke 12:15 

All of us I suppose dream of one day attaining financial security, a time when not only are we worry-free about the necessities of life, but able to accumulate a few luxuries we’ve always longed for.  And our consumer-crazed society reinforces such thinking, convincing us that if we buy more, we will be happier, more fulfilled, and more comfortable.  Great, as long as it inspires us toward excellence in our chosen endeavors.  But we must beware of the hazards that can occur in becoming too cozy with success.

Jesus addressed this matter in his parable about a rich man who after producing a good crop decided to tear down his barns and build bigger ones to store his grain and goods, after which he could take life easy – eat, drink and be merry.  But Jesus warned the rich man, “You fool!  This very night your life will be demanded from you.”  (Luke 12:20)

As a young man the great American playwright Tennessee Williams struggled to make ends meet – as many of us have – taking on such menial jobs as a laborer in a shoe factory, and caretaker of a chicken ranch.  But being a man of great talent and ambition, he dreamed that his literary endeavors would one day bring about success.

So it was that in the winter of 1943-44 Tennessee Williams’ luck changed upon receiving rave reviews for his play “The Glass Menagerie” which premiered in Chicago, and soon made its way to Broadway.  That’s when, in his words, “I was snatched out of virtual oblivion and thrust into sudden prominence, and from the precarious tenancy of furnished rooms about the country I was removed to a suite in a first-class Manhattan hotel,” a quote from an essay written by Williams three years later and published in the New York Times.  The title of the essay?  “The Catastrophe of Success”, a tragic commentary about the potential hazards of fame and fortune, which he himself had encountered.  “Security is a kind of death . . .” Williams had come to realize.

Tennessee Williams’ essay and Jesus’ parable are not inconsistent in their message it seems, that is that the hazard of becoming too cozy with security is a kind of death.  The solution, though, according to Williams is that “purity of heart is the one success worth having.”  Otherwise, “. . . a man’s life does not consist in his abundance.”

“Now I know only in part; then I will know fully . . .”  – 1 Corinthians 13:12 

We had to buy a new TV recently after one of ours went k-put.  No big deal, I thought, knowing that they can be purchased at almost any discount or big-box store at a reasonable price, including upgraded features from our old one, or “smart TVs” as they’re called.  All I would need to do is take it home and plug it into the cable box and the electrical outlet, then – voilà – we would be back in business.  Hardly!  As I quickly learned, a “smart TV” does not mean the TV is smart.  What it really means is that in order to hook it up and operate it, one must BE smart.  Clearly, I’m not!

Let’s face it, technology has become as essential to our lives as food, shelter, and transportation.  And few of us, I suspect, would dispute the tremendous advancements and efficiencies it has provided in today’s world.  Yet, except for the professionals in the technology field, the rest of us tend to fall into one of two categories: those perpetually frustrated trying to adapt, and those who enjoy and embrace the challenge.  While the former, though they would agree it is necessary, find it painfully intimidating, the latter view it as exciting, challenging, and filled with possibilities.

So, in defense of my intellect I would prefer instead to be identified in the “frustrated trying to adapt” group as opposed to simply not being smart.  And just because technology is not my greatest strength does not mean I don’t admire those for whom it is, and not just because they are technically savvy.  I also appreciate that, unlike me who just wants someone to show me what to do, the second group represents a spirit of adventure, a willingness to explore and experiment, to be curious and ask questions.

What a great metaphor the complexities of technology are for the complexities of life, in that there are so many things about which we do not know all the answers.  Thus, there is much to be learned from that second group, those who find technology – and life – exciting, challenging, and filled with possibilities.  For, it is not always the smartest person in the room, the one who seems to know all the answers, who is the wisest; rather it is the curious one, the person who asks the most questions.  They approach life as it really is, “Now I know only in part; then I will know fully.” 

“Therefore encourage one another and build each other up . . .”  – 1 Thessalonians 5:11 

As we near the end of a long race, aching legs, burning throat, our bodies crying out for us to stop, this is when friends and fans are most valuable.  It is their encouragement that helps us push through the pain to the finish line.  A word of encouragement at just the right moment often means the difference between finishing well and collapsing along the way.

Such an instance happened to me once, except I had already crossed the finish line before collapsing face down in the dirt – sobbing.  At the age of fourteen I had spent several weeks attending a sports camp where I had worked hard getting myself in top physical condition and honing my athletic skills before entering the first year of high school.  But just before the closing events of camp my dad was injured in a freak accident at work and because he was laid up my parents were unable to attend.  I was heartbroken, wanting so badly for them to be there and see all I had accomplished that summer.  At the final track meet I was competing in a 440-yard race, and their absence made me more determined than ever to win, even though I really wasn’t very fast.

As soon as the starting gun cracked, I popped out of the blocks with all the strength I could muster.  My main competitor and I immediately took the lead, shoulder to shoulder the entire way around the track, that is until he managed to overtake me by half a stride just at the finish line where I collapsed into the dirt, crushed from exhaustion and defeat.  Suddenly a man appeared from the crowd, a family friend, and lifted my sweaty, filthy, tearful body off the ground.  Wrapping his arms around me, he comforted me with these encouraging words, “I watched you run that race.  I never saw anyone with such desire to win.  You’re a competitor.  You’re SOMEBODY!  Don’t ever forget that.”  And I never have – ever!  It was just the word of encouragement I needed, at just the right moment.

Many years passed, then one day I realized I should write that gentleman to express how much that moment had meant to me.  A few days later he called to thank me for my kind letter.  Not long afterwards he passed away.  But I’ve always hoped my letter might have encouraged him as he approached his own finish line, just he had encouraged me; for should we not “Therefore encourage one another and build each other up . . .”?