Living with a Broken Watch

“Satan rose up against Israel and incited David to take a census of Israel.”

(1 Chronicles 21:1)

“Joab son of Zeruiah began to count the men but did not finish.  Wrath came on Israel on account of this numbering and the number was not entered in the book of the annals of King David.” 

(1 Chronicles 27:24)      

My tendency is to measure, to time, to weigh and to count.   

A few days ago in my daily reading of scripture, I came across the passages above.   Reading this section always makes me wonder what all was going on there.  What about counting the people was understood as offensive to the Lord?  I suspect it had something to do with their desire for control—that it indicated a lack of trust in the promise-keeping God they were learning to follow.   

This morning while I was running my watch stopped.  I had gone for an early morning run at a park near my house.  As I made my way around the park, I was very aware of my slow pace and my poor condition (I hurt my foot a while back and have not run in a couple of months).  I kept glancing at my watch and fretting that my pace was so slow.  

In between the regular checking of my watch, I also worried about the bathroom scales and the fact that they show that I’ve gained a few pounds lately.  I argued with myself about whether I should go on a strict diet and make myself lose a few pounds or whether I should just focus on healthy living and eating.  I gave myself an ultimatum.   

As I thought about that, my mind also went to our meager savings and mutual funds.  I went over again in my head the figures:  balance today, monthly investment, average rate of growth, projected balance at retirement, etc.  I wondered if we have waited too long to start saving seriously for the future—I worried about the erratic behavior of the stock market lately as I notice it daily on my computer screen.   

As I ran along, I also found myself fretting about the “measurable fruit” of our mission work in Mexico.  As full-time missionaries, we tend to think about concrete results.  What do we have to show for all these years in Mexico?  How can we measure it, count it, log it and report it?  Is there enough to justify the investment of time, energy and money given for world missions?   

I looked up and I had made it to the end of my run.  But as I reached to push the button to stop the timer on my watch, the display quit—the numbers frozen and meaningless.   As I stood there tinkering with the buttons, I thought again of the passages in Chronicles—along with the conversation I had been having with myself the last bit as I ran.  

I think there is something very healthy about not counting.  How I long to learn to live without worrying and fretting about counting it and measuring it and weighing it and logging it and reporting it…just to trust and listen to God…to respond to God’s word…to trust God with the counting. 

Fugitives Among Us

One day a young fugitive, trying to hide himself from the enemy, entered a small village. The people were kind to him and offered him a place to stay. But when the soldiers who sought the fugitive asked where he was staying, everyone became very fearful. The soldiers threatened to burn the village and kill every man in it unless the young man was handed over to them before dawn. The people went to the minister and asked him what to do. The minister, torn between handing over the boy to the enemy or having his people killed, withdrew to his room and read his Bible, hoping to find an answer before dawn. After many hours, in the early morning his eyes fell on these words: “It is better that one man dies than that the whole people be lost.”

Then the minister closed the bible, called the soldiers and told them where the boy was hidden. And after the soldiers led the fugitive away to be killed, there was a feast in the village because the minister had saved the lives of the people. But the minister did not celebrate. Overcome with a deep sadness, he remained in his room. That night an angel came to him, and asked, “What have you done?” He said: “I handed over the fugitive to the enemy.” Then the angel said: “But don’t you know that you have handed over the Messiah?” “How could I know?” the minister replied anxiously. Then the angel said: “If, instead of reading your Bible, you had visited this young man just once and looked into his eyes, you would have known.”

From The Wounded Healer, by Henri J. M. Nouwen

I am struck this week by this story and the way it seems to read my thoughts.  Will the leaders who have power and influence today recognize those future “saviors” among us?  I think I know some of those “fugitives.”  I am challenged by Nouwen’s two questions:

How do the men and women of tomorrow look today? 

How can we lead them to where they can redeem their people?