Hey brother, I heard you’ve been knocked around a bit lately, and I just wanted to stop by and see how things are going. Don’t worry, I won’t tell you I understand how you feel. I know; it stinks when people say that. It’s cheap. I don’t want to offer something trite or flippant. I know your pain is real and will not make light of it. But I do want to, well, say that I believe you can do this. I believe in you, brother. For now, though, maybe I could just sit with you for a bit and acknowledge that I hear you and receive what you have to say.
I hear you talk about forcing yourself out of bed in the morning. Later that day, you look above your machine and see the large clock on the far warehouse wall strike at 5:00 p.m. as the factory horn goes off, freeing you from another day. You smile at the other men while walking out the door to your car, but inside, you’re thinking, “Man, I just thought things would be different when I got out of school.”
I see you. It’s around 2 or 2:30 in the afternoon, and you rise to stretch and look around the open 10th floor of the office building at several dozen business cubicles like yours. They’re all pounding away at their keyboards, and for a moment, you have visions of an old Roman warship driven by slaves at the oars. Each one was chained to a bench, and each one mindlessly followed the beats of their master’s drum. “Is this all there is?” I hear you say.
I don’t know how you feel, brother, but I believe in you.
“Man, I just thought things would be different when I got out of school.”
Yes, I saw that. While walking back with coffee for your team, you gave a second glance into the office that was promised to you, but for some reason, the other guy got the promotion even though you were the one who figured out how to make the new business model work more efficiently for the company.
I heard you say you’ve sent out resumes. Some answers have come back with pleasantries. But they all say the same thing: someone with a more impressive work history received the job. More often, though, the calls are not even returned, and emails go unacknowledged. So, what did you do? Well, you just kept “doing your duty,” as you say.
I hear you say that you just feel disrespected. But I believe in you, brother.
I heard what you’ve said about all the hours you’ve clocked pastoring the church that just doesn’t seem to grow no matter what you do. With a plastic smile, you politely listen to other pastors’ stories of revival and success, but you wonder why God seems so distant from your prayers.
I won’t argue when you tell me you feel jaded. I hear you say you never thought of retirement as a young man, but now you often daydream about it. If you could, you wonder what it might look like to check out at 65. I hear you say, “You know, Steve, it kind of reminds me of that old Pink Floyd song, ‘The child has grown, the dream is gone, and I have become comfortably numb.’”[1] I heard you, and I won’t fight it. Stories of great men of the faith and throughout history don’t inspire you anymore. So, you just press on as it’s the right thing to do.
“If you could, you wonder what it might look like to check out at 65.”
You tell me how life must have been different for men in the past. The stories you’ve heard from your father and grandfather give proof of this. Illustrations of how they worked hard, were respected, and seemed to have a purpose in their lives. Now, it just seems that you’ve been taken advantage of and forgotten by not only our culture and those around you but maybe even by God. I receive what you’re saying. I see it in your face when you let down your guard and fake smile.
But brother, I believe in you.
Look, I don’t have all the answers, but I wonder if maybe the fact that you just keep showing up every day is more valuable than you realize. I mean, the bulk of history is made by tough men who pressed on without glory, making it possible for others to be blessed. The problem is that the world rarely acknowledges what you do because it’s out of sight, and they are inebriated with the sensational. We see the world spotlight the NFL quarterback who throws the winning touchdown. The world though doesn’t acknowledge the guys on the offensive line who make it possible for the quarterback to live long enough to throw his pass. That is, unless one of those guys commits a foul. The world always has a way of noticing and pointing out our failures. Otherwise, the center, guard, and tight end are just ignored.
“The world always has a way of noticing and pointing out our failures.”
I wonder if just maybe your staying in the saddle might even be noble. I say “noble” because of Philippians 4:8, where the apostle Paul challenges us to direct our thinking to more positive thoughts on the life around us. It’s the second phrase that captures my attention the most. It is usually translated as “honorable” or, as the 1984 New International Version translates it, “whatever is noble.”
I like that word, noble. It brings up images of ancient knights who are sworn to fealty to their lords and press into battle with honor. It ignites our imagination with the reality that you and I, brother, serve the true King of kings and Lord of lords. In other words, I hear you say you’re just doing your duty and I wonder if that’s enough. Maybe it’s more than enough, as many men today are not doing that. They’re throwing down their sword and leaving the field.
But you’re not doing that, and I believe in you, brother.
Could you be in a long line of silent warriors without a standing ovation who have been the ones who built the future by showing up every day and doing their present duty? Look at the ages, and we know there are countless men out there just like you and me. We don’t know their names, and they will never receive the accolades of Washington or Hollywood or the latest Christian publication. People will forget to return their phone calls and ignore their emails. But yet they are the very ones on which history hangs.
“Could you be in a long line of silent warriors without a standing ovation who have been the ones who built the future by showing up every day and doing their present duty?”
Think about this, friend. We don’t know the names of the silent men who stood with William Wallace in the battle of Sterling in 1297. Without them, there would have been no Scottish victory that day. We know of King David, but we don’t know the name of the guy in the third row, five down from the center, who fought with him against the Philistines.
We don’t know the electrical engineers who spent hours with lousy coffee and sleepless nights while they figured out the logistics to put Neil Armstrong on the moon. I think of the noble men who, while fighting frostbite, held their line and prevented the German army from succeeding in the Battle of the Bulge. We know the name of Patton, but not the guy driving the fourth tank in the armored columns pressing into Germany. But the truth is, that guy in the tank is one of the unnamed men who made it all happen. We know the name of Billy Graham, who preached to thousands, but few know the name of the man who led the evangelist to Christ. So, maybe history hangs in the balance today simply because you’re doing the right thing, even when the culture around you refuses to acknowledge or remember who you are or what you do.
Sure, we have some semblance of honorable memories in our culture. In Washington, nearly 60,000 names have been carved into the Vietnam Memorial. There are thousands of lines of crosses on the other side of the ocean in Normandy. Those names carved in granite may inspire bravery for a time, but eventually, the name, the person, the man himself, is forgotten. But here’s the timeless truth: God will never forget you.
“Here’s the timeless truth: God will never forget you.”
Rolling with the punches is hard when you’re getting slammed and feel alone in your corner. But it’s easier when we remember that the actual, spiritual fight, the eternal fight we are engaged in, will win us a prize that will never fade—an imperishable crown from an everlasting kingdom.
I believe that, brother, and I believe in you.
As we’re talking here, I’m reminded of an old fable by C. S. Lewis called The Great Divorce.[2] In his masterful imagery, Lewis talks about a foreign country, Heaven, which is quite different from our own, in which the light of glory often shines on people who would be mostly ignored in our realm.
In a tiny vignette, Lewis witnesses the triumphal procession of a great woman. We might assume she was a queen on earth for all the attention she receives, but the guide for Lewis says, in effect, that she is just a woman named Sarah Smith. Just a woman who helped and served those around her. Although she was unknown to most on earth, the guide explains, “Aye. She is one of the great ones. Ye have heard that fame in this country and fame on Earth are two quite different things.”
I hear you say that you believe in God. If that is true, then what Lewis portrays in the script must be true as well. After all, Jesus did say that the first will be last and the last will be first. Brother, I won’t say I know how your struggle feels; that would be dumb. I will only say that I believe in you, and the God who created you also believes in you.
“The actual, spiritual fight, the eternal fight we are engaged in, will win us a prize that will never fade.”
May I cheer you on if you allow me? Can I remind you of who Christ is—that He is your Captain? More than that, He is the King of kings and Lord of lords. It’s what He sees in you that matters. Listen, can you hear the words of Paul, who often felt alone, when he reminded the first Christians to always give themselves “fully to the work of the Lord because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain” (1 Corinthians 15:58, NIV)? Later, to another group of men about whose personal lives we know virtually nothing today, Paul encouraged them and us to “not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up” (Galatians 6:9, NIV). If Jesus is real and rose from the grave, then all of that must be true, too.
So, brother, hang tough. You have what it takes. Though the world keeps skipping along in oblivion of the eternal reality, you are in a fight that will be made known to all someday. I believe in you, brother.
Remember that you are called to be part of that great band of brothers in Hebrews chapter 11 and those living today in the world around you. Remember who you are and who your King is. Remember those who are coming behind you in the ranks and that by simply showing up today, you are empowering them for the future. Maybe standing firm in the line of battle is enough, as many of our brothers are folding these days. You and I don’t have to be among those numbers. Hold fast! God has not forgotten you and has a long history of keeping His word and rewarding those who cling to Him and stay in the fight.
“Remember that you are called to be part of that great band of brothers in Hebrews chapter 11 and those living today in the world around you.”
I believe in you, brother; you can do this.
You and I can take our noble place in a long line of men who simply stood our ground one day at a time. At the end of all things, we will hear the words of the rightful King as he proclaims, “Well done, good and faithful servant. Enter your rest and share your master’s happiness.”
Yes, I believe in you, brother, and more importantly, so does Jesus.
Be strong, my friend, be strong!
[1] David Gilmore, Pink Floyd, “Comfortably Numb” Pink Floyd. Harvest – UK / Columbia – US. 1979 – 1980.
[2] C. S. Lewis, The Great Divorce (New York. Harpers Collins Pub. 1946), 118.
