Can I tell you that I hate the folktale of "The Little Red Hen"? I do
not like it, for although I know the morals it hopes to teach are good
ones (against laziness, for work and cooperation), the climactic
delivery actually teaches a very unChristlike selfishness. It's sort of
a "one bad turn deserves another"-type thing. (If you need to refresh your memory, feel free to read the story.)
Done?
What a graceless twit the hen is. I would like to rewrite the story so it ends like this:
She made and baked the bread. Then she said, "Who will eat this bread?" "Oh! I will," said the Duck. "And I will," said the Cat. "And I will," said the Dog. "Come on in!" said the Little Red Hen. "We can eat it together." And they did.
Of
course that doesn't work if you're wanting to teach children if they
don't work and don't help, they shouldn't expect to enjoy the fruits of
someone else's labor. But it does work if you want to teach children
that the world is full of people who don't deserve their charity or
help but that we should give it to them gladly anyway.
What graceless twits we are. (Okay, what a graceless twit I am.) Once a year at my church I preach through a "relationships" series, and one key point I emphasize repeatedly is that we must really work on getting to know the
difference between doing good for someone in order to get
something in return and doing good for someone simply because it's
the right thing to do. (I call the former "relational legalism.") I think lots of the "couples helps" stuff out there on
his-and-her needs, love languages, etc. can be very helpful, but too
often it somehow sets us up to be yinning and yanging each other. I do
this and you do that, and then we will bring balance to the romantic force. I
wonder where sin and grace come into play.
The gospel is the antidote to all relationship problems.
I didn't (and don't)
know this intuitively. I've only learned it from realizing I
didn't know it. The truth is only Jesus can fill the reservoir of
needs inside of us. The language of love we all (sometimes unknowingly)
have is redemption, and only Jesus can speak it perfectly. As long as
we are looking to anyone else to respond correctly to our good works,
thereby energizing us for or enabling us to continue doing good works,
the thing won't work. For followers of Jesus, the ideal for service is
giving without anticipating receipt. Of anything. I don't know that
it's even possible for us to give without thinking of receiving, but I
do know we should believe that such thoughts are anti-grace.
Grace
leaves results up to God. Grace leaves "what people deserve" up to God.
Grace leaves the thanks and the reciprocity for your good works up to
God. Because grace is the virtue that, when embodied in us, best
enacts the Great Commandments -- it is about God and others and only
lastly, if at all, about us.
When
we serve others without expecting a favorable response, we are actually
being the Gospel to them. And we are being the Gospel to ourselves,
really, because the Bible says we love because He loved us, not that we
love because others will love us back. The Bible does say to love one
another, but it doesn't say love one another because you love one
another (if that makes sense).
How far our sin separates us from
God! And from our neighbors too. It seriously screws up everything we
touch, everything we get involved in. It's right there in the
beginning, right at the first screw-up -- enmity between man and God,
enmity between man and woman.
And that's how radical grace is,
how revolutionary the gospel is. It covers us screw-ups and the things
we screw up. It is not blind to our laziness, but it might as well be.
It welcomes us to the table even though we've done nothing to earn a
right there. In our sin we say "Not I" to God's requirements every day,
but in our clingy, needy way, we say "I will!" to His offers. It is
grace that reserves a place for us at His table and says, "Come on in!
We can eat together."
Jared Wilson is the pastor and co-founder of Element, a missional Christian community in
Nashville, Tennessee, and an award-winning writer whose articles, essays, and
short stories have appeared in numerous publications.
Jared's first book, The Unvarnished Jesus, releases Fall 2009 from Kregel.
A graduate of Middle Tennessee State University, he lives outside
Nashville with his wife and two daughters.
Encounter Jared's passion for the ongoing reformation of the evangelical church
almost daily at www.gospeldrivenchurch.com.
Marie, my take is "If you don't work, you don't eat" is our responsibility for ourselves. Not to expect entitlements undeserved.
But in regards to how we treat others, grace is the rule. Or at least should be.
I certainly don't deny the validity of discernment in things like benevolence ministries and the like. I just think grace is bigger and more pressing a requirement. I would rather discern my own heart and motives for withholding than my neighbor's for his need.
I suppose the answer is similar to how one may answer, "Should you give money to a homeless beggar?" Discernment often says "No, because the statistics say he will use it on alcohol." Grace says, "Yes, period." No strings attached.
I lean that way in most matters because I have been overwhelmed by the thought that God gave me the hugest gift imaginable despite the fact I did not deserve it, continue to not deserve it, and take it for granted every day. "Discernment" would say not to give me Christ because I am not worthy and have not met the requirements. Grace doesn't look for worthiness and requirements. That's why it's grace.
» left by Marie from San Francisco (1 year 11 days ago.)
I wouldn't say it's about "deserving." It's about stewardship.
I don't give money to panhandlers (there are many here in SF). But I do support Christian shelters and food pantries.
Obviously, none of us "deserve" anything. I just figure God has given me this much today, so how is it best used for His glory?
I don't think the verse that tells us that he who will not work, will not eat is solely for our own self examination. I think it is a direction to the church about how to distribute food.
Marie, I'm saying that verse does not exempt us from the very discernment you're saying we must have.
My discernment starts with my own heart, not with someone else's (as if
I could read someone's heart just meeting them for the first time).
It can be an act of grace to deny unrepentant offenders luxuries, an act of "tough love" so to speak that sparks them toward repentance.
And I understand the need for good stewardship with limited resources.
I pastor a church that has designated 60% of our budget to mission work and relief agencies. The process in
determining who we give to is not a flippant one.
But in matters of personal "transactions," I still hold that grace
should win out. When I put the Little Red Hen folktale into a modern
context, I believe the real act of grace would be for the hen to have
invited the others in. In that sense, she would be more like the father
of the prodigal. In the folktale, she's more like the older brother.
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