Artists will often say a work of art is never perfected, but eventually it has to be finished enough for public consumption. According to Genesis, God created the world in six days. At the end of each day, he looked upon what he had created and pronounced it good. Conceivably God could have kept on creating indefinitely and brought into existence things we can’t even imagine, but on the seventh day he rested. Whether or not we believe a literal creation account, at least one thing remains true: after the foundation of the universe was laid, God handed over the reins and let human history unfold on its own.
When Jesus showed up at the River Jordan to be baptized by his cousin, John knew his job was finished. He acknowledged the superior rank of Jesus and gracefully stepped aside, saying: “I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel.” (John 1:31). Someone else might have tried to hold onto the influence John exerted over his own disciples, but John willingly let them follow Jesus instead. John trusted Jesus to carry on the faithful work he had begun.
How good are we at recognizing when our work is finished? If God and John the Baptist could trust others to carry on and tend to their creations, why do we sometimes have trouble letting go? Maybe it’s a ministry we started at church, or a project at work, or even our children: at some point we must admit we have done all we can do – all we should do – and relinquish control. This can be a scary thing to do, but if we do not the fruit of our labor is more likely to strangle on the vine than ripen in the sun.
Conviction is good. Perseverance is good. Stubbornness is not so good. Stubbornness is a cage that holds us only because we refuse to unlock it. When we can’t recognize our leg of the race is done and pass the torch to the next person, both we and the torch are likely to burn out before the finish line is reached. Better to pass it along, celebrate the joy of sharing the burden with the next runner, and enjoy a day of rest. Who knows what me might pick up next?
Evening readings: Psalm 29
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