One of the places my father was stationed while I was growing up was the Air Force Academy near Colorado Springs, Colorado. It was probably my favorite base that he was ever stationed at as it set tuck up in the foothills at the base of the Rocky Mountains. It was a wonderful playground for any kid who loved the outdoors. Not far from the house we lived in were what we kids referred to as “the woods”. It was a forest filled with trails, a stream, and a few ponds . . . it was here that the neighborhood kids found their escape.
One winter, when I was around ten or eleven years old, several of us neighborhood kids decided to go exploring in “the woods” after a snowstorm. Everything was covered in a blanket of snow . . . everything, including a beaver pond that we frequented on the stream. It was getting late and everyone was in hurry to get home before we got into trouble for being late. So, the quickest way home was to go across the pond . . . the frozen pond.
First across the pond was the oldest and biggest kid--Butchy. Softly and tenderly he tip-toed across the pond . . . no, problem. Next up was his brother, Mikey, who figured that since his older and bigger brother got across with no issues he would have none either. He walked and slid across with no problems. Next up was me. Two had made it across with no problems, so I thought I would have no problems . . .
. . . well, so much for that!
I was halfway across the pond when we all started hearing a cracking sound. As I looked down I could see cracks radiating out from under my feet . . . and, a loud boom and swoosh. If fell right through the ice. Icy cold water up to my chest . . . it took my breath away. Of course Butchy and Mikey took off running . . . not so much to get help, but because they knew that if their parents found out that they had cross a frozen pond they would kill them.
Luckily I was able to find enough leverage to pull myself out of the hole in the ice and crawl across the rest of the pond. Then I slowly took my frozen self home. After the shock wore off my parents, and they saw that I was okay, I then got lambasted for doing something as stupid as walking across a frozen pond . . . I could have drowned . . . I could have gotten hypothermia . . . and, the one that hurt the most, I could have died. Embarrassed, but not quite humiliated to the utmost, the final blow came when I had to strip down, get naked, and discover that I had several leeches on by body.
The lesson learned? That it was a matter of timing. If I hadn’t been such a nice guy . . . well, I would have been the first one across the pond. Then Mikey would have been the one to fall through the ice and get the leeches!
But, that was my life growing up as a kid . . . poor timing. My creed as a kid growing up was that song from Hee Haw: “Gloom, despair, excessive misery . . . if it weren’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.”
Timing seems to be everything. Alanis Morissette speaks to this in her song, Ironic:
An old man turned ninety-eight
He won the lottery and died the next day
It’s a black fly in your Chardonnay
It’s a death row pardon two minutes too late
Isn’t it ironic, don’t you think
It’s like rain on your wedding day
It’s a free ride when you’ve already paid
It’s the good advice you just didn’t take
Who would’ve thought, it figures
It all comes down to timing.
Ask the guys who are complaining in the parable Jesus is telling. It seems early one morning they are given the opportunity to do some work for a local landowner in his vineyard. The guy told him he would pay them a denarius for a day’s worth of work. So, they took the job and went to work. Throughout the day the landowner goes out and makes the same offer to others to go work in his vineyards. Then, at the end of the day, he gathers all the workers to be paid.
The landowner first pays those who were hired last and worked the least . . . he gave to them a denarius. Then with the next group and the next, he did the same thing . . . paid them all a denarius. Then he got to the original group . . . the ones who had worked the whole day . . . and, he paid them a denarius.
Needless to say, this group was not happy . . . they had a bone to pick with the landowner. They complained that it was not fair that they--those who had worked longer and harder than all the others, got paid the same as those who had hardly worked. As far as they were concerned, they should have been paid more . . . or at least those who came later should have gotten less. Wah, wah, wah.
The landowner responded: “Friend, I am not being unfair to you. Didn’t you agree to work for a denarius? Take your pay and go. I want to give the man who was hired last the same as I gave you. Don’t I have a right to do what I want with my own money? Or are you envious because I am generous?”
As I read this, I thought to myself, “Welcome to my club buddy!”
The problem in this parable is one of timing . . . and, a misunderstanding about fairness, especially when it comes in the form of grace. All the workers, no matter what time they started to work, got paid the same amount. Now, in our day and age, if this happened today, those who worked the longest got paid a smaller wage per hour than those who barely worked. This does not seem fair. Therein lies the rub . . . especially when we deal with the parable in the light of modern economics.
But, we are not interpreting this parable through modern economics. No, we are interpreting this parable through the lenses of God’s grace . . . grace that is the same for any of the faithful no matter when they claimed it. In that regard, it seems like a pretty good deal no matter when you jump into the game. At least that is how we, the followers of Jesus, should understand it.
Or so it would seem. The truth is, whether we are willing to admit it or not, is that it just does not seem fair that those who stumble into grace later in the game get the same reward as those who have been playing or working since the very beginning. I know a lot of good Christians who have a hard time with this . . . for them this does not seem fair. The rewards of being faithful should be dallied out according to the longevity of one’s journey with God . . . the longer, the greater the reward. This mindset explains why lots of the faithful have a hard time in accepting what is called a “foxhole confession or conversion”.
It is upsetting that some downright, dastardly, scumbag who has spent all of his or her life wallowing in the throes of the sinful life can get on his or her knees, ask for forgiveness, and seek a relationship with God through Jesus . . . and, then be rewarded with the same set of dishes the life-long faithful received years ago. It just does not seem fair!
In this day and age . . . in the cultural and societal norms that we are living in . . . it is not fair. Fortunately, God’s ways are not our ways . . . and, God’s grace goes beyond our human perception. Besides that, I don’t think God really cares what our opinion about the fairness of grace is when it come to how God doles it out. After all, as Jesus quoted the landowner in the parable: “Don’t I have the right to do what I want with my own money? Or are you envious because I am generous?” If you replace the word “money” with the word “grace” then you have God perspective on it all. Imagine what a wonderful world this could be if we were all as graceful as God is.
God does not ask us who is worthy of grace and who is not. That is a decision that God is going to make by God’s own self . . . and, God doesn’t need our help. Grace is God’s gift to give. There is no good or bad timing when it comes to God’s grace . . . there is only grace. In the end, that is what is important . . . God’s grace. God does not care when it happens . . . God only cares that it happens. In the end, it is only God’s understanding of grace that matters. We should thank God for that.
May we all live the grace of God in our lives so that others too receive the gift we know. Amen.
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