No Good Deed

I never saw the cat.

Its teeth, now—those, I felt.  They were sunk into my calf, just above the ankle.  For about half a second before the pain registered, I remember hearing the sound of an angry (or was it terrified?) mama of the feline species.

It wasn’t enough warning.  

There was going to be blood.  I just knew it.

No good deed goes unpunished.

The adage has been in popular usage for a number of years now.  I find myself saying it now and then, not as absolute fact, but simply to explain the unhappy events which seem to occur even as I happen to be on my best behavior. 

I was helping move a dresser out of my daughter’s house.  Her husband and I had carried the unwieldy thing down a flight of stairs and wound our way through the dining room and then the living room.

I walked backward the entire time.  I don’t really mind going backward if the end result is to make progress in a positive direction.

The problem with walking backward is that one is dependent on other folk to sound a warning if you are about to do something foolish—like step on the sweet little mama cat who is rushing to get out of the way of that monster piece of furniture and the two humans on either end of it.

I was simply trying to be helpful.  It didn’t stop the sharp little teeth of the frightened feline from piercing my skin.

No good deed. . .

It’s not true, you know.

The cat bite was not payment for my good deed.  It was nothing more than a natural event.  I stepped on the cat’s foot and it did the only thing it knew to do.

It wasn’t her fault.  Nor mine.

I have heard the discussion innumerable times.  God is testing me. 

Possibly.  Possibly not.

There are passages in the Word which speak of that process.  I may be forgetting some, but it seems that, overall, God uses the tests which come along, but doesn’t necessarily cause them.

I especially like the words we find in the book of James.  They state the case simply.  More importantly, they give me hope.  

Really.  Hope.

I used to be discouraged because I have never thought it a joyful occasion when I was in dire straits.  I felt guilty and somewhat like a failure.

The reality is we’re told to consider it an opportunity for great joy.  The joy comes in persevering.  It comes in standing firm and then making our way out on the other side of the trial.  The finished product will be just that—finished and complete.  (James 1:2-4)

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Joy comes with the finished product!  But, here’s the thing:  We have to stick with doing the good things that have been put before us.

He will use the testing to make us into the men and women He wants us to be.

But, in the midst of disaster, we have to keep slogging on through.

Whether blood is running down our ankle or not, we keep carrying the burden.

Whether he is grateful or demanding, we help our neighbor.

Even if it means our livelihood or friendships, we stand on the side of truth and justice.

He knows me.  When I have been tested, I’ll come through as pure gold.

No, not this scribe.  I’m not ready to make that claim.  Yet.  

Job was, though.  (Job 23:10)

Talk about no good deed going unpunished!  That man knew the length, width, and depth of testing.  And still, he was determined.  He would follow his God.  

To the death he would follow Him, if need be.

And, come through with flying colors.  Shining as gold.

I have been discouraged a good bit recently.  The insignificant cat-nipping event aside, I have been wondering—both to myself in the dim and quiet hours, and aloud to others in the light of day—if the result will be worth the cost.  I know many who are in similar situations.

Discouragement and exhaustion are the detours frequented by those on the journey who are soon to fail in their missions.  

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Encourage each other while it is still daylight.  (Hebrews 3:13)

While the blood is yet streaming from the bites, and the sweat is dripping from the foreheads, we help others along their journey.  We must.

The truth is that no good deed goes unseen and unrewarded.

Not one.

It’s not an adage.

It’s a promise.

Whether we’re walking backwards, with no way to see the path before us, or running at breakneck speed toward the finish line, we keep moving.

That way.  

Toward home.

 

 

God is not unjust; he will not forget your work and the love you have shown him as you have helped his people and continue to help them.
(Hebrews 6:10 ~ NIV)*

 

He had not yet learned that if you do one good deed your reward usually is to do another and harder and better one.
( C.S. Lewis ~ British author/theologian ~ 1898-1963)

 

*Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV® Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

 

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2017. All Rights Reserved.

The Story of My Life

There’s not enough!  The story of my life.

blanket-1245171_640The red-headed lady who raised me was disgusted.  A new baby was due soon to a young couple in our church and she was on a deadline to finish the little crocheted blanket.

The baby shower had come and gone without a gift to offer, but she remained confident the project would be completed before the little tyke’s arrival.

Stymied!

Just inches short of the intended size, she had run out of the variegated yarn she loved to use on such projects.  There was no way she had time to order more.  Alas, the child might actually come into this world without the blanket.  From her perspective, it would be a disaster.

“The story of my life!”  She repeated the plaintive phrase.

She threw up her hands in disgust and, sticking the crochet needle through the loosely-knit material, tossed the blanket into the wicker basket beside her chair.

She was done, it seemed.

Giving up.

Ah!  But we knew better.  It was only a matter of time.

She sat, moping, in the easy chair.

Any time now

There it was.

The index finger on her right hand went to her mouth.  She tapped her lips, muttering.

“I wonder. . .”

The change was abrupt when it came.  Her left hand plunged into the basket and pulled the good-for-nothing blanket back onto her lap.  She began to yank on the single tendril of yarn hanging out of the edge at the place she had ceased her labor only moments before.

Like a mad-woman, she worked—ripping out the stitches she had put in laboriously in the hours preceding.  We wondered if she had gone mad.  The thought didn’t last long.

She soon stopped and examined the blanket to see where she was.  Then, more slowly than at first, she continued to pull at the yarn.  There was a sizable pile at her feet when she finally stopped.

Talking to herself, she said,  “That should do it.  I hope this works.”

Grabbing a full skein of contrasting colored yarn from the shelf beside her, she began to work once more.  The stitch pattern was different than the main body of the blanket, but she was no longer making the blanket.  This was a border.  Before it was done, it would be two inches wide around all four sides of the little blanket.

A two-inch border of ingenuity and flexibility.

The finished blanket was beautiful—a perfect wrapping for the tiny baby who would arrive that week.  And, every time she saw the baby in its carrier, swaddled in the little blanket, the red-headed lady would stop and admire him.

I wonder if anyone else noticed that she always took hold of the border of the little guy’s blanket and rubbed it between her fingers.  Perhaps they thought the smile on her face was because of the baby.

I wonder.
                             

I will always be sad to remember her initial reaction.

She seemed to truly believe that unhappy events were her personal due in life.  Like her mother before her, Mom wasn’t much of an optimist.

Frequently, she used phrases like the story of my life and par for the course, as if she thought it was simply what she had coming to her.

And, that makes me sad.

What doesn’t make me sad is the realization that she never let that expectation stop her from both starting, and seeing projects through to completion, even when interrupted by the frequent checks that momentarily discouraged her.

Like a dog worrying a particularly tough bone, her surrender was nearly always short-lived.  Even if it took hours of concentration and exploration of alternatives, she would eventually crack the problem open to savor the sweet taste of success.
                             

Funny.  We all experience the momentary setbacks.  The disappointment of plans gone awry is common to every one of us.

Every one of us.  Our Savior promised us trouble in this world. (John 16:33)

It’s not personal.

Maybe, it’s time to get past the par for the course thinking and get on with finishing the blanket.

Or whatever task God has put in front of us.

We’ll take pride in the result.  Even if it’s not what we envisioned to begin with.

We tackle our problems head-on and finish the job.

And, that is the story of our lives.

 

 

 

A bend in the road is not the end of the road.  Unless you fail to make the turn.
(Helen Keller ~ Deaf & blind American author/lecturer ~ 1880-1968)

 

In this world you will have trouble.  But take heart!  I have overcome the world.
(John 16:33 ~ NIV)

 

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.
(Psalm 23:6a ~ KJV)

 

 

 

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2016. All Rights Reserved.

Two Forward, One Back

The last time he came through my door, he was pushing a walker.  Slowly.  His leg was in a plaster cast and walking was painful.

Today, he wielded a cane.  There was no cast, so I could see the scar running the length of his calf muscle.  He was moving better than the last time I had seen him and I told him so.  His reaction was almost instantaneous.

“Whoa!  Don’t let this cane fool you!  It’s been nothing but two steps forward and one back.  I wouldn’t call that better.”

I admit it.  It wasn’t the kindest thing I could have done.  I’m not always tactful in making my point.

I simply stuck my right hand out in front of my face and lifted the fingers, one at a time.  First one, then two.  I shook them a little, then put one of them back down.  The index finger still stuck out and I waved it around, half playfully.

He got the point.

Making a nearly-grumpy comment about it not being me dealing with the pain, he laughed and headed outside after finishing his transaction, leaving me to contemplate the condition of all humankind.

Two forward.  One back.

It’s still progress.  I did the math.  

One plus one minus one equals one.  One is more than zero, right?

Just to be sure, I even made a little diagram in my head.

The little stick-man is standing on Point A.  He takes two steps, to Point C.  He turns around and takes one step back in the direction he came, to Point B.

He started on Point A and is now standing on Point B.  That’s what we would call going in the right direction.  Positive movement.

Can anyone tell me why it feels so much like being a loser, then?

I always wondered about that.  The red-headed lady who raised me used to spit out the words, as if they left a bitter taste on her tongue.

Well there you go.  Two steps forward and one back!  Again.

I was an almost-bright kid.  Loved number problems.  

If John has one apple and Mary gives him two more, but he has to give one to the playground bully, how many apples did he lose?

Be careful how you answer that question.  You might be surprised at how many people get it wrong.

From a safe distance, the answer is obviously none.  He actually gained an apple from where he started.  From a safe distance, that’s the answer.

Ah.  But what if you had held all of those three apples in your hand?  What if you had been the victim of that muscle-bound thug?

He stole my apple!  Thief!  I had three; now I have only two.

How quickly we claim ownership!  How soon our hearts become fixed upon the thing in our hand.

And the Teacher told them not to hold tightly to the treasure in this transient place where thieves steal,and where bugs eat and rust corrodes.  (Matthew 6:19-20)

But, what of my injured friend?  All he is doing is working toward a goal.  That’s a worthy purpose, is it not?  Surely, that is what we should all be doing?

twostepsIt is.  But, just as in all of life, if we begin to count the steps (either forward or back), we lose sight of the goal and also of how far we’ve come.

It matters not what the goal is—sobriety, fitness, a promotion at work—when we have a setback.  We think of it as a loss, regardless of how far we have come in our pursuit of the prize.

How easy it is to take our eyes from the goal when we experience a defeat.  

Earlier, as I drew in my head the chart of the little man advancing, my mind’s eye was drawn to the action many of us take in our two steps, one step dance.

We face the goal for our two steps forward, but turn back to take the one step back.  Suddenly, all we can see is the proximity of total defeat, the looming shadow of complete failure.  

What if I’m done?  I only made it two steps before.  Maybe I can’t do it again. 

What if all is lost?

Ah, but what if it isn’t? 

You know something?  No one ever achieved his goals by walking backwards.  No one.

Turn around.

The goal is out there.  Up ahead.

There is nothing behind us we’re headed for.  Nothing.

Up ahead—it’s all up ahead.

And the Teacher told them they would have troubles as long as they were in the world.  

Not to worry though.  I have overcome the world. (John 16:33)

He’s got this.  He’s already done the math.  He’s already lost the apple to the playground bully.  And still, He finished—victorious.

Keep moving forward.

Yeah, two steps forward and one back will still get you exactly where you need to go.

In time.

 

 

 

Hold everything in your hands lightly, otherwise it hurts when God pries your fingers open.
(Corrie Ten Boom ~ Dutch Holocaust survivor ~ 1892-1983)

 

We are kept from our goals, not by obstacles, but by a clear path to a lesser goal.
(Robert Brault ~ American writer)

 

 

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2015. All Rights Reserved.