This past weekend at Zion, we kicked off a new series called “Keeping Score.”
Scorekeeping is one of those ingrained, nearly involuntary habits of modern life. We calculate the dollars in our bank accounts, the hours we spend at work, and even the steps we take using our Apple watches. Some of the math is helpful. It can help us discern where we are and decide where we want go next.
But numbers make cruel masters.
When we demand that these scores not only inform us, but define us—to tell us whether we are winning, worthy, ahead, or enough—we become slaves to the scores we keep.
Keep score in your marriage—what she said, what he forgot, how many times you swallowed your pride and apologized first—and you aren’t merely keeping a record. You’re tallying reasons for resentment. Keep score of other people’s successes—their promotions, vacations, children, homes, or happiness—and you can turn their joy into kindling for your envy.
So, what if we stopped? What if we cleared the scoreboards that keep us trapped in resentment, envy, guilt, and exhaustion? What if we kept score no more?
I still remember when I really began to notice and be annoyed by it. It was when I was a sophomore in high school. When my algebra teacher was writing equations on the chalkboard, I couldn’t help but squint and wonder: “Did she just write a 7 or a 9? And is that a 3 or an 8?” At first, I wanted to blame it on her sloppy chalkmanship. But when it wasn’t just my algebra teacher’s writing, but my English teacher’s, my science teacher’s, and my social studies teacher’s writing too, I was forced to admit to myself that perhaps my eyesight wasn’t what it used to be. So, begrudgingly, I trudged off to the optometrist. And I got a prescription for glasses.
I had never paused to think about just how precious being able to see clearly was until I began not to be able to see! So, you can imagine how devastating it must have been for a man named Saul who, while on a trip to Damascus, had a light from heaven flash around him and a voice from heaven speak to him only to find out that, when this supernatural experience was over, he couldn’t see: “Saul got up from the ground, but when he opened his eyes he could see nothing” (Acts 9:8).
It turns out that the light blinded him was from none other than Jesus and the voice that spoke to him was none other than that of Jesus. Saul, up to this point in his life, had made it his mission to persecute those who claimed Jesus was the Messiah. He believed that Jesus was nothing but a man who was pulling a scam. But when Saul encounters Jesus enthroned in heaven, his mind quickly changes. He goes from believing Jesus was a fraud to believing that Jesus is God. But it all happened when Saul became unable to see. Paradoxically, this is when Saul began to see Jesus for who He was most clearly.
What was true for Saul is true for us. Sometimes, when we feel like life has gone dark and we cannot see – these become the moments when we see Jesus most clearly. When the darkness of a dreaded diagnosis overtakes us – we see Jesus as our only hope for healing most clearly. When a relationship falls apart despite our best efforts and our hearts go dark – we see Jesus as our only possibility for reconciliation and restoration most clearly. Even when we close our eyes in death and everything we have ever seen or ever known goes dark – this is when we see Jesus as our resurrection and our life most clearly.
John Newton famously wrote that, because of Jesus’ amazing grace, I “was blind, but now I see.” Sometimes, however, it’s not our blindness that must be removed so we can see, it’s our blindness that helps us see. Because when we can see nothing because everything has been taken from us, all we have left is Jesus. And it’s at these moments when we, just like Saul, can truly see – and trust in – Him most clearly.
I love watching a child’s eyes light up when dessert is served. I love watching a dog wag its tail in anticipation of fetching a tennis ball. I love watching a couple on their wedding day look into each other’s tearful eyes and hold each other’s hands tight.
I love joy.
And yet, joy can sometimes be tough to come by – or at least to sustain.
Joy is often overcome by anger when we see injustice in our world. Or it is overtaken with loneliness when we feel isolated with no one to talk to. Or it is overwhelmed by grief when we lose a husband, a wife, a son, a daughter, or another loved one.
The prophet Habakkuk ministered to the nation of Israel during a season when joy was tough to come by. The nation of Israel had fallen into spiritual corruption and the Babylonians were on their way to attack – and eventually conquer – Habakkuk’s home. In the midst of all this, Habakkuk, as most of us would, struggled to find joy. He opens his book by questioning – and implicitly accusing – God:
How long, Lord, must I call for help, but You do not listen? Or cry out to You, “Violence!” but You do not save? Why do You make me look at injustice? Why do You tolerate wrongdoing? (Habakkuk 1:2-3)
“Nothing is going well,” Habakkuk complains. “There is no reason to have joy.”
Except that, according to Habakkuk, there is.
Habakkuk closes his book:
Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. (Habakkuk 3:17-18)
“Even when all else fails and is lost,” Habakkuk writes, “I still have the Lord. And He is enough for me to have joy.”
The apostle Paul writes, “Rejoice always” (1 Thessalonians 5:16). This injunction, at first read, feels impossible. We can understand rejoicing, but to do so always seems ridiculous. But if Paul gives us the “what we are to do,” Habakkuk gives us the “how we are to do it.” We are to be joyful in God our Savior. Joy found in things other than the Lord will always come and go because other things always come and go. Joy found in anything other than the Lord is ultimately unsustainable. But joy that is in the Lord can endure always – because He is with us always. Find your joy in Him.
At the church where I serve, we end each service with a commission from the apostle Paul:
Shine like stars in the universe as you hold out the word of life. (Philippians 2:15-16)
This picture from Paul is tied to the very beginning of history.
When God creates the cosmos, He fashions a couple of ruling bodies. On creation’s fourth day, He speaks into existence the ruling bodies in the sky:
God said, “Let there be lights in the vault of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark sacred times, and days and years, and let them be lights in the vault of the sky to give light on the earth.” And it was so. God made two great lights – the greater light to govern the day and the lesser light to govern the night. He also made the stars. God set them in the vault of the sky to give light on the earth, to govern the day and the night, and to separate light from darkness. And God saw that it was good. (Genesis 1:14-18)
The stars, moon, and sun, Genesis says, “govern” the day and night. They are heavenly ruling bodies.
Then, on the sixth day, He creates some more ruling bodies on the earth:
God said, “Let Us make mankind in Our image, in Our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals, and over all the creatures that move along the ground.” So God created mankind in His own image, in the image of God He created them; male and female He created them. God blessed them and said to them, “Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.” (Genesis 1:26-28)
Human beings, Genesis says, “rule” over all creatures. They are earthly ruling bodies.
As Genesis goes on to explain, these human beings who rule over the earth come from the earth:
The LORD God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being. (Genesis 2:7)
And yet, there is this hope that human beings, like the heavenly ruling bodies, will not just be dirty and dark, but will shine like the lights in the sky. Sin, of course, dashes this hope when God tells Adam that He will return to the dirt:
Dust you are and to dust you will return. (Genesis 3:19)
But Paul restores this hope. He says we will “shine like stars in the universe” (Philippians 2:15). But how? Paul explains:
Do everything without grumbling or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, “children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation.” (Philippians 2:14-15)
Paul says when we live without grumbling or arguing, we shine. We go from being dirt from the world to offering light and hope for the world.
This world is full of dirty stuff. Let’s not add to it by our grumbling and arguing. Let’s shine light on it by our joy and peacefulness. This is our world’s need – and the Church’s call.
Take, for instance, the story of Raquel and Derek Pearson, who live in Idaho with their eight-month-old son, Lucas. Lucas has a cardiovascular condition that puts him at high risk for serious complications should he contract COVID-19. His parents, working to minimize their family’s contact with the outside world, are having everything they possibly can delivered to them. They also posted a note on their door, thanking the delivery people who risk their health delivering packages far and wide. You can imagine how touched Raquel and Derek were when they caught an Amazon delivery driver, Monica Salinas, on their video doorbell stopping to say a prayer for little Lucas as she delivered a package to them. The story has since gone viral, being featured on NBC Nightly News. Her little bit of encouragement went a long way.
There is also the story of Kassandra Diaz, a server at Che Restaurant in Delray Beach, Florida. She has been struggling to make ends meet in an industry that has been crushed by COVID-19 and is struggling to recover under the strict social distancing guidelines in place in many regions. So, you can imagine how shocked she was when she saw a $1,000 tip from a customer on a $164 check. The big tipper was Andre Drummond of the Cleveland Cavaliers, who left her this note along with his tip: “Thank you for being amazing!” For Andre, the tip was generous, but not bank-breaking. He’s worth $27 million. But for Cassandra, the tip was life-changing. She didn’t even know who Andre was when she was serving him, but after figuring it all out, she posted on Instagram: “I was shaking and had tears of happiness after what he left me.” His little bit of encouragement went a long way.
In Acts 9, we meet a man named Barnabas who brings a new convert to Christ named Saul –who was a former persecutor of the Church – to a skeptical group of apostles:
When Saul came to Jerusalem, he tried to join the disciples, but they were all afraid of him, not believing that he really was a disciple. But Barnabas took him and brought him to the apostles. He told them how Saul on his journey had seen the Lord and that the Lord had spoken to him, and how in Damascus he had preached fearlessly in the name of Jesus. (Acts 9:26-27)
Barnabas’s name means “son of encouragement” – a name he certainly lives up to. When the apostles want to reject Saul because they don’t believe his conversion to be genuine, he encourages them to give Saul a chance. Because of his encouragement, Saul, who is known better in the New Testament as Paul, becomes the greatest missionary in the history of the Church, planting congregations all over the ancient Mediterranean basin. Barnabas’s little bit of encouragement went a long way.
Who can you encourage? Is it someone for whom you can pray? Can you leave a larger-than-usual tip to make someone’s day? Can you welcome someone who has been marginalized by those around you?
In a time that feels plenty discouraging as we wade our way through peaks of a pandemic, questions of racism, and waves of civil unrest, we all need some encouragement. After all, a little bit of encouragement can go a long way.
So, let a little bit of encouragement begin with you.
