"Some Are Born..."

Three-year-old Jacob stomps into the bathroom like a toothbrush wielding sumo.

His sing-song opera…“I am the youngest. You are the oldest.

But I am the STRONGEST! Ha! Ha! Ha!”

The older brother, no Esau, but a Joseph, pats him on his flaxen head,

And calmly douses his outstretched weapon with toothpaste.

These days, I’m attempting to make the psychological shift from nurturer of children to parent of nearly grown men. I wouldn’t for a million dollars exchange today for yesterday – but I can’t help but reminisce. I wrote the poem above when my sons were toddlers and, obviously, I’m more a prose girl. But sometimes I get the urge to wax poetic, and this silly poem is one of my favorites. It’s a snap shot of a moment in time, but it speaks volumes about the personalities of my two sons and their brother relationship.

Watching my sons brings other brother pairs to mind – my father and his younger brother, Wilbur and Orville Wright, and of course, Jacob and Esau. Each of my sons has respected the other’s strengths, and put up with each other’s annoying qualities, in a mostly good-natured manner over the years– this has been a gift. The interaction of my sons has also led me to conclude that the Biblical story of Jacob and Esau is as much, and possibly more, about the older brother as it is about the younger.

I ruminate about being an eldest, not through experience, but through observation. I am neither the youngest nor the oldest – I’m not even the middle. I am third of four siblings. I am the watcher, the chronicler of the family I was born into.

I am also the mother of an eldest, and the close friend, sister, daughter, and wife of eldest children, and I know this: it is not easy to be an eldest. Your person, the idea of you, your very existence, is imbued and burdened with the hopes, dreams, and expectations of those around you from the day you are born. It would be impossible not to disappoint at some juncture, but you are never free of it – that sense of being responsible, the natural burdens of authority and leadership. There are perks, to be sure, but they come with strings. You will never be free (like a third) or pampered like a youngest or an only child (circumstances of birth that come with their own challenges). Being the eldest sibling is the original, “What have you done for us lately?” job.

I completely understand Esau wanting to be free of the responsibilities of the eldest, and that understanding has made me come to admire the eldests in my life that much more. These eldests that I love could have walked away, sold their birthrights. As far as I can tell, it doesn’t enter their minds.

As I think about it, I remember that each of them has had their older sibling prodigal moments (“Dad, why do you let them get way with that? When I think about the thrashing I would have received had I…”) but these indignant moments tend to be brief. I have watched them take the lead in helping aging parents, keep the family connected by both encouraging and speaking the truth in love, always ready to step in when there is a need or challenge that the rest of us feel inadequate to face, advise and project confidence that reassures us about continuing on. Far from selling their birthright, they often refuse even the slightest offer of help – assistance that some might say only pride keeps them from accepting. It as if they were also born with some innate sense that this role is theirs to fulfill and no one else’s, so they err on the side of sole responsibility. By the grace of God, I am what I am, and His grace toward me was not in vain. (I Cor. 15:10) This isn’t pride. It is obedience.

What of the rest of us? The younger, the middle…the third. Can we learn something about our own calling by watching them? Another of their responsibilities, that, teaching by example. God gives us the choice to be or not to be what He created us to be. We’re free to walk away. He doesn’t need us to help Him fulfill His purposes. But running away tends to end in a pigpen, or the belly of a whale, or grieving at a birthright cheaply sold. My eldests have taught me it is good, no matter how rough the path, to follow the one God has placed before us, refusing to be distracted by smoother seeming ways. We look to Him at each twist and turn and say, “Where next?” People are blessed by that action, both the person who acts, and those they travel with, as well.

And This We Know

Adam and Eve and their story have come to my mind often during this past election season. In the third chapter of Genesis, Adam and Eve rebelled against their Maker. The next thing they did was try to justify their positions. The fact that their actions were in direct contradiction to God’s words didn’t even come up. The point seemed to be, for Adam and Eve, that what they had done seemed the most reasonable course of action given the circumstances, and why couldn't God understand that?

Whether you believe Genesis is history or myth, it has survived because it points to the root of so many of humanity's struggles. This tendency to justify our position in an argument or controversy, rather than listen and truly examine our own assumptions, motives, and actions, is a bad habit we can't seem to shake. As far as I can tell (and this most recent election season was a good bellwether) this tendency toward self-justification is as rampant in the Church today as it is outside of it.

I know I am just as guilty of this error as the next believer, but God’s been working on my heart in this regard. As far as I know, nowhere in scripture do Christ or the apostles exhort us to defend our political or moral positions to the death. Why it took me so long to notice this, I really don’t know, but I am sure it has its root in our fallen human tendency toward self-justification. We are called to defend and guard the gospel – to encourage each other to remember and pass on the pure and unammended good news we were given.

“Now I make known to you the gospel that I preached to you, which also you received, in which also you stand, by which also you are saved, if you hold fast the word which I preached to you, unless you believed in vain. For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received, that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures, and that He was buried, and that He was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures.” (I Cor. 15:3-5 NASB, emphasis mine)

"Guard what has been entrusted to you." (I Tim. 6:20 NASB)

However, guarding the gospel does not mean endlessly justifying our interpretation of how it should be lived out. It does not mean reacting in anger and condemning people who don’t buy it. Paul was clear that guarding the gospel simply meant passing on the same news that Christ gave to the apostles, and that they passed on to the early church. That’s it. I find nothing in scripture that suggests we are called to defend or justify our church’s doctrine, our political positions, or our lifestyle choices.

There is nothing wrong with having strong views and opinions, any thinking person does. I enjoy a good discussion as much as the next girl. But if our discussions become lines in the sand that separate  us from each other, that fracture relationships rather than exhort, encourage, heal, and draw people to Christ, something is wrong.

Think about some two sentence summaries of New Testament books of the Bible. Here are a few to get you started - Corinthians: God is the judge, you are called to love - love God and love each other. Some ways you can love each other are: sacrificially caring for those who are poorer and weaker than you, watching what you say, and passing on the same gospel message I gave you. James: Watch what you say, help each other remember the gospel, and take care of the poor and the weak among you. If you believe what you say, your life will show it. Romans: This isn't about what you're doing, it's about what God's doing in you. Oh, and watch what you say and take care of those poorer and weaker than you.

Picture what it would be like if the most important point we wanted to make in any discussion was the hope of the gospel message. It wouldn’t take long for us to explain what is important to us, and after that, what would we be doing? Listening, and I have found that to be important for two reasons:

First, the odds are, no matter how right or mature we think we are, some of our opinions and actions and yes, even some of our interpretations of scripture, are wrong. One of God’s best ways to show us where we are in error is through the encouragement, exhortation, and correction we receive from other people. They get the opportunity to speak truth to us in love. We have the opportunity to admit we are not perfect.  In turn, our brothers and sisters share the mercy of Christ with us as they forgive us for our error. Done right, this is a beautiful, miraculous, relationship enhancing cycle. It could be argued that, after sharing the gospel and helping the poor, learning this cycle is the primary role of church communities in the lives of believers.

Second, it is impossible to know someone that we do not listen to. It is very hard to understand how to love another person without knowing them. We are called to love our fellow believers and the world the way that Christ loved. We cannot love others if we spend the majority of our time talking rather than intentionally listening - listening in order to understand, not in order to defend our positions.

I have traced my own issues with self-justification to a lack of trust in the promise of Romans 8:28. “And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.” And we know… Do we really? Do we really trust that God is doing exactly the work that He has promised in our lives, the lives of our fellow believers, and in the world He created and loves? If we really believe this, we will not be afraid - and we won't be afraid to listen.