Body Up

     The Old Natural gave one of his great sneaky sermons this past Sunday on service--not self-service, but selfLESS service. He cautioned the Faithful to avoid treating service as a block check to hit with a respectable minimum and challenged us to get out over our tips, to "Body Up." I thought it ironic, as from the same spot in the same pulpit the previous week, we were advised to slow down and do less. I like ON's message a heckuva lot better. Body Up.

     Twenty years ago I was in a west African country teaching its soldiers how to use some American equipment. Actually, my NCOs were doing the teaching. My job was to liaison with my opposite number, who happened to be a major.We got on pretty well. He had spent quite a bit of time in the United States and loved the American way of life. I suspect he would have jumped at the chance to emigrate, which caused him internal tension because he also loved his country and yearned to help his people--but didn't know how.

     One night, he and I had a long conversation about his troubled country. We were sweating together in the tropical heat in the parking lot right in front of his unit headquarters. He was confused by his nation's poverty. It had abundant natural resources, a literate population and was one of the most stable quasi-democracies in the region. But it never seemed to get anywhere and he had no idea what to do about it.

     Given how articulate the major was and the tenor of the conversation, we could have been standing in front of my unit headquarters at Fort Bragg having the same discussion, except for one thing. The major was drinking whiskey out of a bottle while we talked. When he finished it off, he casually threw the bottle over his shoulder where it shattered next to the steps to his building, leaving the broken glass for one of his privates to pick up the next day. No American major would ever have done something like that. Heck, no brand new lieutenant would have done that. It is simply not done.

     I knew then that one of the clues to the conundrum of his impoverished nation was that key leaders like him would drink whiskey from a bottle and expect his men to clean up the broken glass. I knew that I should tell him that, so that he would understand that his actions risked evoking in his men a disregard for him both as a man (he was a Muslim and not supposed to drink) and as a leader. In their disregard, they would emulate him and further erode the fragile fabric of his country's society, for they had no one else from whom to take example.

     I could have told him about the deportment of George Washington, who took great pains to always appear at his best in front of his soldiers lest they come the think of him as ordinary and feckless, and to ultimately think of themselves the same way. Instead, he gave them an example of rectitude for which they could reach, an example that gave them comfort in their mean circumstances and a desire to improve both their lot and the that of their brethren.

    But I did not say any of these things, even though I knew they needed saying. In short, I was not willing to Body Up, because I was not truly a leader. I was a small man without faith, who at most could meanly meet the standards of conduct set and enforced for me by other men who were leaders, and who would Body Up. I regret that failure (and a multitude of others) and would account my life cheaply had I not been given through grace a chance to Body Up now and justify the investment made in me by men who had more hope for me than I had for myself.

     And now.  And now, our Rector has challenged us to identify those things by which are hearts are consumed, and around which our church could wrap new ministries. For many of us, the poverty and despair we see in our wonderful city are the visible manifestations of what consumes our hearts. I contend that many fish have been distributed by the comfortable in an effort to alleviate this problem, with one undeniable result--the poor remain with us. I contend that is time to try the other. It is time to teach them how to fish for themselves, and that starts with leaders. It is not for lack of green pastures that our lost sheep suffer, it is the lack of committed and loving shepherds to lead them there. And though we the comfortable may lack many things ourselves, we do not lack the skill to shepherd, for it is that, the grace of God and nothing else that underpins the successful and comfortable lives we lead. We are well shepherded. What better gift could we give the harried flocks than to teach them what we know, to teach them how to fish?

     Here is a link to a conversation we have been having about this same topic in F3Nation. From the feedback I have been getting, I am starting to see a groundswell of men increasingly prepared to Body Up and find a way to teach the un-shepherded how to fish. We call ourselves the Men of Purpose. Is there now a purpose for us higher than this?