Expanding Circle

How often do you do good things for others?

Most of us would have to say, "Not often enough!" The person who consistently puts others' needs above his own interests and preferences is a rare soul. A person who gives freely out of pure love, with no concern over whether her efforts are repaid or even appreciated, is even harder to find. The vast majority of humanity feels entitled to something in return, if only a verbal thank-you, for any favor done for another--and is quick to complain of others' ingratitude and to sever relationships with "all take and no give" people.

But much as we may wish otherwise, God isn't satisfied to see His people being only as good as the majority of humanity. As Jesus said, "If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your brothers, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that?... When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or relatives, or your rich neighbors; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous" (Mt. 5:46-47; Lk. 14:12-14, NIV). Why? "That you may be sons of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous" (Mt. 5:45). If God turned off the sun and rain to punish people for taking Him for granted, nearly all of us would suffer from regular dark days and dried-out lawns.

But even more than that, giving only to people whom we expect will give back keeps generosity trapped within a rather narrow circle. Toss a stone onto thick ice and it may make a few cracks at best. Toss a stone into liquid water and the ripples expand on and on.

Who knows where a few random acts of kindness may lead?

A kindness returned is a wonderful thing
When it's done from a warm, grateful heart,
But a kindness passed on is a greater thing still,
For the power of the good it can start.
For a kindness returned, though it bring a great joy,
Will remain in a closed loop of two,
But a kindness passed on makes the circle expand,
And its ripples may reach the world through.

To help out a friend is a wonderful thing,
When a heart acts in love that is true,
But a greater thing still is to help out those souls
Who may never give equal to you.
For to help out the ones who will quickly pay back
Is a thing most will do if they can,
But a heart that can give with no thought of return
Spreads the love of our Lord through the land.

The Stars above Sing the Might of the Lord

The following poem is a pantoum, which means that its basic structure is built on the repetition of lines. In poetry and song, a surprising amount of variety and beauty can be generated by using certain elements over and over.

Perhaps that's an example of how human creativity reflects God's image. Much of Creation's beauty is surprising in its consistency. Have you ever wondered what it would be like if the sky showed a totally different number and layout of stars every night? What if the sun rose in a different part of the sky each morning, birds changed their feathers and songs from day to day, and rainbows regularly shuffled and intermixed their colors? Would we appreciate the variety? Or get bored quickly, as do many spoiled children showered with endless toys?

Maybe our reaction would be uneasiness; it might be hard to believe that "the Father of the heavenly lights... does not change like shifting shadows" (James 1:17, NIV) if He kept rearranging those "heavenly lights" drastically and obviously. If He regularly changed His mind about how His firmament should look, who's to say He might not change His mind about more complicated matters, such as whether to keep His promises to us? Even on the human-to-human relational level, it's a lot easier to trust someone who is basically consistent than someone who has a history of unpredictable reactions.

Granted, people who always tell the same stories or keep harping on the same theme are boring. But even more than with poetry, human beings display a surprising amount of variety within their consistency. And a surprising amount of depth within the basics.

God is even more like that. Maybe that's why it's a lot harder to get bored exploring nature than watching television.

You don't hear many people complaining about "having to look at the same old stars tonight."

The stars above sing the might of the Lord:
Though they have no voice at all to give sound,
They speak of His power without a word,
For their beauty is seen the world around.

Though they have no voice at all to give sound,
Their praise shines out plain to all eyes that will see,
For their beauty is seen the world around,
And they speak of great wonders still yet to be.

Their praise shines out plain to all eyes that will see,
Through the mark of the Power on which they depend;
And they speak of great wonders still yet to be,
On the day when the world that we know will end.

Through the mark of the Power on which they depend,
Human hearts can dream of a world to be;
On the day when the world that we know will end,
Greater joys await than our eyes now see.

Human hearts can dream of a world to be,
Yet without God's Word we would never know;
Greater joys await than our eyes now see,
For He Who prepares them has told us so.

Yet without God's Word we would never know;
Only through His love do we dare to dream,
For He Who prepares them has told us so,
Of a world beyond where pure joy will gleam.

Only through His love do we dare to dream,
And the light of His love outshines the stars;
Of a world beyond where pure joy will gleam,
We all have His Word of what will be ours.

And the light of His love outshines the stars--
They speak of His power without a word--
We all have His Word of what will be ours.
The stars above sing the might of the Lord.

The Song of Sevens

Not that I want to slip into superstition about "lucky" or "magic" numbers, but the recurrence of certain numbers in Scripture does suggest that God has some fondness for them. Take the number forty, for instance: it rained forty days in the time of Noah (Gen. 7:11-12); Moses spent forty days on Mount Sinai (Ex. 24:18); the Israelites spent forty years in the wilderness (Ex. 16:35, among other passages); and Jesus fasted forty days before His temptation (Mt. 4:1-2). Or consider the twelve tribes of Israel; twelve apostles; and twelve foundations and twelve gates of the Heavenly Jerusalem.

One number that appears in several significant Bible passages is a number that has acquired a general reputation for being lucky: seven. To the class of super-logical mathematicians (where I admittedly hold no membership), seven might seem a strange number to honor: it is neither small enough to be a basic unit like a two or a three, nor evenly divisible into any smaller units besides ones; and few extensively used larger numbers can be divided evenly by seven (even the seventy years traditionally estimated for the human life span now seems lost to an era of greater longevity). Why does seven, rather than a rounder figure like six or ten, so often seem to represent perfection in Scripture: seven days in the week; seven years of work for Jacob to marry each of his wives; seven days (ending in seven circuits around the city, led by seven priests) to bring about the fall of Jericho; seven deacons in the early Church?

Maybe I'm being whimsical here--and I definitely don't presume to be reading God's mind on the matter--but I wonder if He chose an odd number, and one not divisible without leaving something out, partly because He places high value on the oddball, the nonconformist, the person who always seems to be left out?

Certainly He has used many such people in amazing ways.

Seven were the days which God set for the week,
One set aside so His face we would seek.

Seven are the hues in the rainbow's bright gleam,
Set in the sky once the world was washed clean.

Seven were the times the troops circled around
Till Jericho's walls came a-tumbling down.

Seven were the foods Jesus blessed with head bowed--
Five loaves, two fish, fed a whole hungry crowd.

Seven were the deacons when the Church yet was new,
Servants who all would work hard as it grew.

Seven were the churches Christ named from His throne:
He Who is holy, is holy alone.

Seven are the verses in this song I have sung:
Let us give praise for the things God has done.