Sheep, Goats, and Me

In the readings for today the Lord is pretty much laying down the Law. It’s Leviticus and then later Matthew’s Parable of the Sheep and Goats. They are basically life-rubrics over the standards that matter most (and please don’t let that comparison keep you from reading). One is framed around what not to do in life. One is framed around what to do in life, while making all of us acutely aware of the stakes and consequences. And reading them I mostly feel inadequate because reading them reminds me of how often I am more goat than sheep. Acknowledging this hurts me a little, humbles me a lot, and scares me more than I want to admit. Don’t get me wrong. Last I checked, I have not literally robbed my neighbor or cursed the deaf, but I also have not clothed many naked or welcomed enough strangers. In fact, and perhaps I flatter myself in thinking this, by the standards of these scriptures I am pretty average at best and maybe even a little worse. By the standards of these scriptures, if I am being honest, I am a disappointment.

Now what? What to do when you feel as if you are letting God down and the reflection in the mirror is less than you’d hoped? What to do when a life rubric is passed back and you are a long way from mastery? Honestly . . . I usually start with a pity party. I can feel myself doing it as I write this. My bruised ego begins with self-flagellation (which is its own form of pride). I then reflexively start making excuses and subconsciously tally up the other side of my spiritual ledger as I desperately look for “sheep” moments. I complain a little about it not being fair, that the expectations are too high and the demands too overwhelming. Besides, 21st Century life and culture are not well suited to promoting these old-school virtues, at least not in affluent America. Sometimes, I think it would be easier to be a Christian in all the ways that matter if I lived in more troubled times and circumstances. For example, if I lived in the Ukraine, or Columbia, or Sudan, where I imagine the feeding of the hungry, the clothing of the naked, and the caring of strangers have much higher stakes and are more viscerally consequential, which would make them easier to practice. However, in my secure and privileged American life, both my goatiness and my sheeply-ness are pretty banal even when I don’t mean for them to be. It’s not fair! . . .

. . . It is usually somewhere in that moment, when my pity party goes beyond even my stomach, that I start to shake myself out of it (or maybe it’s God). The Prayer for Generosity, or something like it, will start thundering around inside my head, drowning out my selfishness and reminding me of what my weakness forgot: First, that I need to say thank you- thank you for the scripture, thank you for the Lord’s high standards, and thank you for the reminder to grow. Second, His reminder to grow is also a reminder that He hasn’t given up on me. His reminder is the hope that I have more time to do the good work, to keep running the race, and to keep being formed. And lastly, I need to remember that honoring His laws are not just chores that I must endure. They are not boxes to be checked, or blanks to be perfunctorily completed. They are love, and meant to be His love given through me in the honoring of the law. My job is not to pine for a better context in which to give that love, but to find a better way to share it with the ones doing life with me. And then I need to get busy doing it.

Amen.

Author: Casey Profitt, Social Studies