Hey, Cobblestone,
In case you missed it, the sign
at the Lowe’s checkout counter reads:
“Thank you for treating our
associates with respect. Profanity, verbal threats or violence towards our
associates will not be tolerated. Thanks for helping us make Lowe’s an
enjoyable place for all.”
Whew, that was a close one! I
was just about to launch into a verbal tirade. Lots of profanity. Threats of
extreme violence. And if that didn’t get me what I wanted in about 2.5 seconds,
I would have jumped the counter and opened up a whole new can of Whoop-de-Do on
the young man at the register. But once I saw the sign, I was defused.
Everything changed. I paid for the materials and went about my day. Crisis (and
jail time) averted. That’s what signs do: they make people do the right thing.
Without signs, there’s no telling what mess humanity might be in. Thank
goodness for signs.
I’m hoping you’ve caught on by
now: everything above is total fiction – except for the sign. The sign is real,
and lives, eye level, at the Pro Desk checkout. But it wasn’t the sign that
restrained me from violence. Frankly, the thought of violence hadn’t entered my
head until I saw the sign. Then, something overrode it. What might that have
been?
You might recall from our last
letter that we’re working on a hypothesis, as follows:
“Every relational boo-boo in
human history can be traced to a deficiency of gentleness.”
We gathered evidence from
Genesis 3, where Adam, instead of going with the gentleness that would have
benefitted himself and his bride, chose to spin up the original Blame Game.
Genesis 3 also records that it didn’t go well for him… or anyone else. In the
very next chapter, and the very next generation, is further evidence:
Cain spoke to Abel his
brother. And when they were in the field, Cain rose up against his brother
Abel and killed him (Genesis 4:8).
Theologians, as well as regular
ol’ Christians, have been trying for centuries to figure out why the two
brothers had such radically different reactions to their encounter with God.
For what it’s worth, my leading theory is that God’s acceptance of Abel’s
sacrifice and rejection of Cain’s was designed to trigger something that was
already inside each of them.
Without any instruction (that we
know of) on what would constitute an acceptable sacrifice, how would either of
the brothers know what to bring? The difference, I’ll suggest, has little to do
with what they brought, and much to do with their heart’s posture as they
brought it. Abel brought his sacrifice in faith, expecting God to have regard
for him. He brought the best of his goods, trusting that God would restore the
best in return. On the other hand, Cain brought his gift grudgingly. His speech
and actions, once he realized that God had no regard for his sacrifice, bear
this out. He was very angry. He argued with God. The only solution he could
come up with was murder.
If Cain had had a heart inclined
to gentleness, how might the story have been different? Without doing any harm
to Scripture, let’s imagine for a moment. Instead of becoming angry, Cain might
have said, “Oh, Lord God, I didn’t bring my gift in faith like my brother did.
Will you change me, please?”
I’m not a great student of the
original Bible languages, but a quick check of a good study Bible shows me
something intriguing in the encounter between Cain and God:
So Cain was very angry, and
his face fell. The Lord said to Cain, “Why are you angry, and why has
your face fallen? If you do well, will you not be accepted? And if
you do not do well, sin is crouching at the door. Its desire is contrary
to you, but you must rule over it” (Genesis 4:5-7).
The intriguing part has to do
with Cain’s face falling. We get the metaphor: his face is downcast. He’s
pouting. But where most English translations give “will you not be accepted,” a
literal translation of the Hebrew reads “will there not be a lifting up of your
face?”
Who is the lifter of faces? The
answer comes from our key verse in this series of letters:
Let your gentleness be
evident to all. The Lord is near (Philippians 4:5).
Within every human heart there
is a bit of Cain. Or a lot. Even the most dedicated Christians – with a
regenerated soul (see Titus 3:5) and a heart of flesh to replace a heart of
stone (see Ezekiel 36:26) – deal with a measure of Cain-ish-ness inside.
Allowing one’s face to be lifted up to the lifter of faces makes the Cain
nature diminish rather than flourish. Anger and harshness are exposed for what
they are: bad ideas. Gentleness comes to the fore, because the Lord is near.
There’s not a sign big enough,
or worded strongly enough, to squelch the Cain nature inside. Meanwhile, any
Sunday school veteran who can recite the attributes of the fruit of the Spirit
will tell you that gentleness figures prominently on that list (see Galatians
5:22-23). No Spirit, no gentleness – only a tense waiting for the fuse to burn
down. As Jesus so famously said: “It is
the Spirit who gives life; the flesh is no help at all”
(John 6:63).
The life of faith, as we
navigate this walk-around world, has mostly to do with accepting Jesus’ help
and going with the leading of the Holy Spirit. The largeness of Abel’s faith
wasn’t fully expounded until deep into the New Testament:
By faith Abel offered to
God a more acceptable sacrifice than Cain, through which he was commended
as righteous, God commending him by accepting his gifts. And through his
faith, though he died, he still speaks (Hebrews 11:4).
From such a heart posture,
gentleness comes naturally – no sign required. As a bonus, the associates at
Lowe’s will love us for it.
Grace and Peace (and lifted
faces),
John
