Upstaging the Ump

The difference between democracy and anarchy isn’t much nowadays. In a democracy the will of the people is decided by the ballot box. Anarchy, on the other hand, exists when it’s everyone for themselves resulting in mass confusion. Our society’s polarization exhibits democracy and anarchy simultaneously run amok. The line between them are so blurred that we don’t know how to act. We’re uncertain about what to tolerate anymore.

Did we see democracy or anarchy in the 2016 US presidential election? Donald Trump got around 26% of the vote, and Hillary Clinton got roughly 26% of the vote. As a matter of fact, she received more votes than Trump, but in our homage to state’s rights, each US state is delegated a certain number of electoral votes based on the latest census records. Though Clinton had more popular votes, she had less electoral votes. Donald Trump won, but both candidates combined got just 52% of the popular vote. Neither one came close individually to a 50+1 majority because 48% of those eligible to vote didn’t! Both candidates lost 74% of eligible voters.

Who would want to serve with 74% either against you or too ambivalent to vote? Someone this week said that the highest electoral turnout in the US is for county sheriff’s elections. It makes you wonder why that number is higher than the presidential one. Is it because of the old adage that “all politics is local?” We care who our sheriff is because of our individual personal safety or that of our loved ones. Is it about our property values and local quality of life? Is it because we have a personal investment in the outcome because we actually know the candidates?

It’s an interesting enigma, but we choose between democracy and anarchy every day. Is it my way or the highway of anarchy, or is it whatever is best for the common good of democracy? I certainly hope that I’m a kind of person who values the common good over personal desires. The foundation of civilization is an agreed upon set of values and a uniform adherence to those precepts. Unfortunately, we have rules interpreted in a way that’s all over the map. Left-coasters see things one way, and New England’s Down-Easters see it another way. The Midwest has another opinion. Southern Bible-belters espouse yet another set of virtues, and the South West another. Texas is big enough to have it all.

Here’s the problem as I think of American democracy on the edge of anarchy. We have lost touch with what our values are, both personal and national. We care about who our sheriff is because we’re so darn self-centered. We have snubbed our nose at both common sense and God. It used to be that everyone had the same curfew. Everybody in town knew what time it was, and every date got home on time. Not anymore. The Ten Commandments are 10 suggestions, not laws, and the Golden Rule has been changed to “Do it unto others before they do it unto you.” It is quite literally a sad state of affairs.

Here’s an example of what happens if we can all do our own thing and upstage the umpire. In Cuba they love baseball and they know the rules. However, not that long ago, Cuba’s former dictator, Fidel Castro came up to bat in an exhibition game against Venezuela. The game was held in the Cuban capitol of Havana. The Cuban dictator grabbed an aluminum bat and walked up to homeplate. Not to be outdone, the president of Venezuela, Hugo Chavez, went to the pitcher’s mound. The first pitch from Chavez to Castro didn’t even reach the plate. Castro kept his bat on his shoulder. The next pitch went over the plate, and Castro swung and missed. In short order the two heads of state were locked in a 3-2 full count. The next pitch went across the plate straight down the middle and the umpire called Castro out.

“No,” Castro said. “That was a ball.” He walked to first base. No one argued. Chavez said nothing. The opposing team said nothing, and neither did Chavez or the umpire. Later Castro joked, “Today just wasn’t Chavez’s day.”

It’s hard to get the batter out when he or she has the power to overrule the umpire’s calls. That’s the way most of us have been behaving about a lot of things. Someday there’s going to be a payday when God’s Word will be final. No more upstaging the big Ump! What are our values? What’s right, and is anything wrong anymore? Jesus said in Matthew 7:13-14, “Broad is the way that leads to destruction and many enter it, but narrow is the way that leads to life, and only a few find it.” Is the ball fair or foul?

 

Appreciating Tired Legs

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I preached my heart out this morning and I can feel it in my legs. Sounds weird, huh? Well, for me when I get into something, breaking a sweat with my mind or with my body, the effects of either go to my calves specifically – always has. When I was a kid running cows up and down the alleys at the stockyard I would go home and feel it in my legs. Restless Legs Syndrome wasn’t caused by lack of work, but by too much. Work wasn’t a stranger around our house when I was a youngster.

Many hours were spent tilling the garden, hoeing the flower beds, cutting the grass, feeding the cows, fixing fences, pumping gas at the Texaco station, or helping out at my grandfather’s country store. During Christmas break I operated a fireworks stand for two weeks, and in the summers I either worked in a peach packing shed or penned cows and hogs at my father’s stockyard which made for great sprinting ability when football practice started. My father’s philosophy was clear if he caught me sitting on the fence or lazing around in other ways: “Off and on!” he would yell. What he meant can be translated a number of ways, but the best way I can phrase it would be, “Quit resting on your laurels and get on your feet!” Hard work was a given.

When I was a kid I wasn’t that keen on work. Today, however, I would give practically anything to hear my Dad’s voice yell, “Off and On!” again. The value of a good work ethic is immeasurable. As much as I like time off and rest, there’s nothing like a good night’s sleep after a day of manual labor. Rest is all the more sweet thanks to the satisfaction of a good day’s work.

Certainly, I enjoyed some tasks more than others. One of my hardest lessons about work came from one of my uncles. He said that he would give me 50 cents for every bushel of butterbeans I shelled. I thought that sounded like a good deal until my fingers felt like they were going to fall off after shelling about one-fourth of what I was supposed to do. He wanted me to learn that money doesn’t come easily. He was right. There is no free ride in this world.

Work is a gift from God, to be sure, but we can’t enjoy this gift unless we put it to use. The best use that can turn any labor into a blessing is to “work for the Lord.” If I can work for the intrinsic reward of pleasing the Lord, then the extrinsic 50 cents doesn’t much matter. If whatever the menial task is done for Jesus’ sake then we can be content whatever our lot in life. That is, if we do it to the best of our ability. From this perspective, work can indeed be a gift from God. Famous artist, Emile Zola, put it this way: “The artist is nothing without the gift, but the gift is nothing without work.”

Perhaps you have heard or read the story of how work makes the difference between heaven and hell. There was a man who died and found himself in a beautiful place, surrounded by every conceivable comfort. A white-jacketed man came to him and said, “You may have anything you choose – any food – any pleasure – any kind of entertainment.” The man was delighted, and for days he sampled all the delicacies and experiences of which he had dreamed on Earth. But one day he grew bored with all of it, and calling the attendant to him, he said, “I’m tired of all this. I need something to do. What kind of work can you give me?” The attendant sadly shook his head and replied, “I’m sorry, sir. That’s the one thing we can’t do for you. There is no work here for you.” To which the man answered, “That’s a fine thing. I might as well be in hell.” The attendant said softly, “Where do you think you are?”