Courage To Be Kind

I think that sometimes being loud, 

                                       even arrogant,

              is mistaken for being bold.

Sometimes bold is loud.

But sometimes bold is quiet.

Even, very quiet.

Sometimes bold doesn't say anything at all.

Sometimes the boldest thing is to love; to apply grace or even just kindness.

And to go un-noticed in the process.

I don't feel like I do this well, 

but I've known some who were able to blend kindness and boldness.

Someone who I have held in respect for many years passed away last week.

He spoke both with passion and gentleness.

When he talked about our blindspots as people of faith in Jesus,

                                        there were times he sounded very critical.

When he spoke about his love of Jesus, or Jesus' love for him, his voice could break;

overwhelmed by the grace poured out...upon someone like himself.

He could also make us laugh...a lot.

He was the first "celebrity Christian" I ever met.

And he took time on a few occasions to have discourse with me.

Once, when I was only twenty, I had a one-on-one conversation with him.  

Later on, he responded to some questions I had via snail-mail.

I was a new believer in Jesus and he was kind to me. 

In my ignorance...about...much. 

He had courage to speak to the church about its shortcomings.

He also saw places to offer grace to the church.

He wasn't always appreciated for his words or position on things.

But mostly I felt he was just being honest about helping someone who he thought needed a measure of kindness; an individual or an entire country.

And he asked if we could be the people who just may be able to bring it to them.

He hoped and believed that we could and would do better with more knowledge, transparency and commitment.

Somehow, I believe these thoughts above fit into a portion of scripture that I've been chewing on.

There's a somewhat startling question that Paul asks in his letter to the Romans.

In Chapter two, verse four, he's discussing our tendency to look down on others in judgement, while ignoring the kindnesses that God has poured out on us, believing they would lead to our repentance.  As in...

How do we miss all the kind ways he has been patient with us and return that gesture with impatience directed to others?

It's a pretty significant understanding; the idea that God's kindness is his plan to bring us to repentance.

Now, I'm sure that God's plan has many dimensions to it, as he reaches into all of our hearts to draw us towards himself.  

He knows exactly how each of us are working through the messes in our lives.  

He knows our individual points of pride and resistance.  

He knows the places we have pain and broken-ness.

But I'm captivated by the idea that something as simple as "kindness" would draw us towards Jesus AND that we are expected to pass that simple part of "faith in action" on to others.

I wonder what that would look like in my world...

At the convenience store.

Or on the phone with tele-marketers.

Or while I'm driving through traffic.

When I'm in a hurry.

Or frustrated about all the above.

I looked up the word in the original Greek.  

Kindness = xrēstótēs.

It appears 10 times in the New Testament.

Here are some of the ideas related to it: 

"A Spirit-produced goodness which meets the need and avoids human harshness (cruelty)

...Meeting real needs, in God's way, in His timing."

Not harsh.

Not cruel.

Meeting needs.

In his timing.

Spirit-produced.

It is brave. 

It is true.

It comes from Jesus.

Even when you don't feel like it.

                                        The courage to be kind.

Kept

I have a friend who would say, 

"I know He's real, 'cause He kept me...All these years, He kept me."

He would cup his hands in front of his great, big self and show me how that felt to him; sometimes smiling, sometimes eyes full of tears.  

His story is difficult.

And as long as I have known him, he has struggled in the certainty of his own testimony.

(There's probably moments that we all do.)

He has often had to fight within himself to regain it.

On those days, he felt unprotected.

Without a shield.

Without covering.

Wondering why things happened as they did.

Soul-crushing things.

Without someone he could count on... to keep watch over him.

Someone...to cover his back.

And the pain of that vulnerability, sometimes rolled into a great fear.

I've been reading through the opening of the Genesis story and that's the issue I'm seeing is the weightiest concern of the couple who find themselves there.

God had told them not to eat of the one tree or they would die.

Which is interesting to me because they had no knowledge of what it meant to die.

At least from an experiential perspective.  

They'd never been to a memorial service.

I remember as a kid...maybe 10 years old trying to process what death meant, not coming from a home of faith, it was staggering; even overwhelming to consider.

I saw the gray-skinned body of my Grandpa, lying in an ornately designed coffin.

Twas the first time I recall seeing what "death" looked like...in a person...and it was gray.

I faintly remember a conversation with my mom after that.  

There was a panic that ran through me....Knowing that one day I would turn to call for her, reach out for her and she would not be there to respond.

And I cried about it.  For a good while I think.

Death's meaning was just beginning to find its place in my thinking because it was in the news.

People talked about it.  

They went to things called funerals to observe it.  

Wars created lots of it.

But in Genesis, they really didn't have any of that to view the concept from, and maybe that's why when you read through the passage, its odd to see that it wasn't death that made them afraid.

It was actually nakedness that made them hide.

"I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid."

How weird is that?

And I kept looking through that passage.  Reading it over and over.

The Creator's response is, "Who told you that you were naked?" 

Almost as though "naked" was a word that didn't fit in his vocabulary.

Otherwise, he may have said something like, 

"Yes, you are naked and how objectionable that is to me, at least you found something to cover up with, it helps cover your hideous nakedness."

He doesn't address any of that at all.  But then, why would he?  

He made those bodies, in His own image.

So, after the couple explains the process of their poor decision-making, he turns to the serpent and pronounces judgement upon him.

But let's go back to the dialogue about being naked for a moment.

The Hebrew word appears ten times in the OT.  Seven times apart from this passage.

(Once in Deuteronomy and six in Ezekiel.)

In each instance it either refers to a person or the nation of Israel, not so much as unclothed, but as being unprotected.  In fact the root of the word means to be exposed.  

Additionally, in four of those verses the phrase, "naked and bare," appears.  

Enhancing the idea that there are two different ideas being presented.

God didn't see Adam and Eve's lack of clothing as a problem.  In fact they didn't either until after the conversation with the serpent.

Being exposed is a different matter. 

It's an internal issue, an internal anxiety; the sense of being uncared for or unprotected.

There are people in my life that I believe that I would do all I can to care for their safety.  

It would hurt me deeply if they questioned that commitment.  

I would feel ashamed if I didn't protect them.

Not because I have been contractually obligated but because I love them.

In one short dialogue the serpent convinced the only two people on earth that the one who made them in love, and beauty could not be trusted to keep their best future in his hands and they would be defenseless against everything to come.  So, fear and mistrust were born, and they hid.

They no longer felt kept.

So many of us are still trying to find the courage to trust that God today.  We fashion our lives around pursuance of things that seem to provide stability.  Things that outwardly speak of strength and security.

In the end it's all just...fig leaves.

However, inwardly what we still really need is a simple trust 

                                                              that He is a good, good God,

                                                                               And that He is for us, like no other can or ever will be.