Thursday, 5 March Seeking the Messiah. Matthew 6:1–4
This is a deeply personal reflection which I perhaps should not be committing to print. But the lesson I learned was such a clear answer to my short prayer, as you will see, that I am writing it here – fully aware that any merit that I might have earned is completely lost by my telling of it to you – as you will understand by the time you reach the end.
I sat down to do this short reading (only four verses!) in a frazzled and weary state of mind. I had had several nights of poor sleep; I rose early because I needed to be out for a 7.00 start on a prior commitment. I had dragged myself out of bed, made brekky on a tray for my wife for her to have later, and a cup of tea for me, all without turning any lights on so as not to wake her. I took the cuppa to my study and sat down to do this reading in the 20 minutes remaining before I had to leave for my engagement.
I’d just sat down, when I heard, ‘Are you up, Gra?’ So, back to the kitchen bench; lights can go on this time. Make another cuppa, prepare a rice cracker with peanut butter and honey all just the way she likes it, take it to her in bed, then sit down again in my study to drink my nearly-still-hot tea and do this reading.
I speak semi-aloud to God, ‘I’m not really up to this, this morning, Lord. Please give me some beautiful insight today. I’m just so tired.’ I find the right page in my Bible, and then hear my wife’s voice again.
‘Gra, are you comfortable?’
‘Ummm. Yes…’
‘Could you come and plug in the TV for me, and turn off the fan?’
In days gone by, I would have grumbled, but the years of grace have gentled me a little. Not enough, yet, I know, but it’s a start. I'm very aware of my role as carer for her and she is very sick from chemotherapy treatment at the moment. I get up, do what she wants, and return to my now luke-warm tea and settle back down into my comfy study arm-chair.
‘Lord,’ I say, ‘please wring my soul and rinse my spirit to hear you now.’ (I was thinking of Hopkins’s poem, Spring, of course, and knew that He would recognise the reference, too. Hopkins and God were well acquainted.)
I down a few sips of tepid tea and hear: ‘It’s not working. You didn’t turn it on.’
I am sure that I had, but I smile, (just a teensy bit proud of myself for my generous graciousness – I am such a fine Christian husband!!) get up, now resigned to never having a chance to do today’s reading, and go back to the bedroom.
I had turned it on, but the connection at the plug was loose. I fix it; we laugh together, acknowledging that we were both a little bit right. (How many domestic disputes could be resolved if we just stopped and thought about things from the other’s perspective? I wish I had done that much more often over the years!). I return to my study. I drink a few sips of only-just-warm tea. I hate warm tea. I always want my morning cuppa to be strong and hot. Two tea bags. Not too much milk.
I speak aloud again to God: ‘Well, Lord, I’ll try this reading now. I'll just do a few verses, as I’ve got to leave soon. What do you have to tell me this morning?’
And I read: Be careful not to do your acts of righteousness before men to be seen by them. … when you give to the needy, do it secretly.
I smile up at the morning clouds, chuckle aloud and say, ‘Thank you’.
I check my phone for the right time and double-check my calendar for the day. I discover that I had made a mistake. My early start is for next week, not today. I’d got up early for nothing. ‘Perhaps…’, I think, ‘perhaps not for nothing entirely.’ I sit at my desk and type up this reflection.
The lesson that I learnt? Simply this:
Where can we go to find the people most in need of your kindness and care? In our own household and family. Our own husbands, wives, children and parents. We should care well and kindly for them, and God will be pleased. There is just no point in being chirpy and patient at work, in giving money to overseas missions and charities, in dashing off on a short-term mission to Thailand, but being grumpy, irritable and unhelpful at home, with the ones whom we really are specifically charged to care for.
We live in a super-stressed world, probably largely of our own making. The greatest need for charity and kindness is at home. How we talk to our spouse; how we respond to our children; how we show patience and forgiveness; how we share love and kindness; how we invest our limited time with those who are closest to us. Remember your Shakespeare (Sonnet 73): Love that well which thou must leave ere long.
No-one outside our own home will ever know what we do in gentle kindness for others. There will be no tax-deductible receipt. There will be no gift of flowers or a nice card in thanks. There will be no Order of Australia from the Governor-General. There will be no promotion or pay rise on the basis of our good work; no little memo from the boss. It’s very likely that most of it will just be taken for granted – and may even be thrown back in your face sometimes.
But your Father, who sees in secret, will reward you.
Prayer: Please help me, Lord Jesus Christ, to grasp just how important I am to the people in my own family circle. Help me not to be short-tempered, irritated with them. Help me to behave as you would behave, if you were here. (Which, of course, you are, through me!) Give me patience. Quickly, please. (Sorry, that was just my little joke.) Help me to live out your love, in mercy, kindness, gentleness and grace. Amen.
