FEAR OF MAN
In the words of the song by Ray Bolts, “When others see a shepherd boy, God may see a king”, I was struck by the true meaning only recently. I am one of those people who tingle with emotion when I hear a beautiful song; specially the ones with feeling and good harmonizing in it. But it is not about music or beautiful songs that I want to write here, it is about the meaning in the words of that specific song.
Jesse had a few strong and favourable boys, according to himself, and one day the prophet came to his house to anoint one of those boys as the next king of Israel. When we read the scriptures the story is quite straight forward. Jesse told the young men to get ready so that they could be presented before the prophet. I can only imagine the scene; the prophet standing with each son, possibly with his hand on the boy’s head or holding him by the shoulder, waiting, waiting for the voice of God to tell him who the next king would be. Not one of those was to be the king. I am convinced that the prophet knew there was another but still he asked the question: “Jesse, are these the only sons you have, or is there another one?” Dressed in the best they had, possibly having contested their strength on many occasions, it was not to be one of them.
David, the youngest son in the household of Jesse, was called away from his duties where he was tending to his fathers flock. Dusty and sweaty he appeared before the prophet. He possibly only had time to wash his face and hands and to take a drink of water. I wonder if God’s words to the prophet were something like, “he’s your man.” God did not pick the youngest son to prove a point to the others. No, He was looking for the one who could kill lions and bears and ward off wolves to keep his father’s flock safe. God did not need the lion’s strength in this man’s arms and hands, but He needed it in his heart. Possibly David could, in his own strength, not really kill a lion with his bare hands, but he did not flinch when he had to rise to the occasion. Purely because his heart was focused, his physical strength did not fail him. Indeed, this young man was the man for the job.
We are often found to be working in a corporate environment, a place where competition is fierce. Competition is a single word with similar meanings in different situations:
1. The act of competing, as for profit or a prize; rivalry.
2. A test of skill or ability; a contest: a skating competition.
3. Rivalry between two or more businesses striving for the same customer or market.
4. A competitor: The competition has cornered the market.
5. Ecology. The simultaneous demand by two or more organisms for limited environmental resources, such as nutrients, living space, or light
I favour point 5; is this not how we see ourselves in our day to day response in our place of work? We are the organisms battling it out for the prize; nutrients or better known as more money, living space or otherwise called the bigger office, apartment or house, and of course the light, also called the limelight.
I have been involved with Saddlebred horses for a short stint in my life, having only competed in one single class on a show which did not rank high on the Saddlebred show calendar. I was the ‘dress-up guy’. Now, that is no fixed term for what I did, it just seems to fit. It was left to me to follow the program, know who the riders or drivers in the specific classes were, which suit he or she was going to wear, pin on the correct number for the class, insert the matching feather in the hat and add the correct broach to the jacket. I am merely describing all of this to stress the point that I was not the showman.
What I found interesting in my observation of the competition in every show division, was the comments made by the old hands when a youngster from out of town came into the arena and kicked sawdust in their eyes, if you will pardon the pun. “I’m telling you, that horse is spiked” or, “I’ll keep him against the rail in the Championship Class, out of sight from the judges.” Hardly ever would you find these old hands walking over to the youngster, admitting to defeat and, in the spirit of true sportsmanship, welcome him to the arena. They may very well walk over to the winner and the only (good) intension would be to ask whether the horse was for sale. Anything would be done to claim victory. If not today, tomorrow then, even at a price. Trust me, I am not running down the sport, it is the spirit of sportsmanship, better known as spirit of competition that often lack. If such a newcomer could not kill a lion, mentally, in his heart; in the Championship class he would be riding the rail out of fear, without even being pushed there. But if he wanted to wear the blue ribbon, claim the prize, he would do what he did best; show his horse as best he could without fear of intimidation from any old hand.
Why do we not become supporters of one another? So, you dare to ask me how I can ask such a question. By asking this question I am taking the Play Station away from the child. The best man-made devise to compete against, says every teenager, or dad. Why? As soon as it gets the better of you, you can turn it off. You can even repeat some parts of the game and not look the sore loser. Awful word – loser.
Nobody has to roll over for every bit of competition that come their way. I was brought up in a home where my father believed you never have to compete. My mother and father won many a social dancing competition when I was little. Looking at the way we were raised, I’m sure my father figured that it did not matter if they lost, because it was a social event and they could still have fun regardless. In high school, I played rugby, in the fourth team. Could I play in any higher ranked team? Yes, but there was no need or urge to compete. I was brought up that way, remember?
I learned to play the guitar, never to read, or understood musical scores; I would have to compete against myself then. I never played very well. Musically I am blessed with talents of singing and playing a bit of music. I am not a strong soloist but love the harmonising parts. The gospel band and the songs we sang made us real artists in days gone by. Today my brother is the solo-man, the pianist, the guitarist, a strong example in my life. I always joke when I say he was swapped at birth. He does not belong to our family. The rest of us are the “you don’t have to compete” guys. A Youth Pastor of ours used to call him Little Paul. His name is not Paul, but could often be compared to Paul in the scriptures. And yes, his foundation is as firm as was Paul’s. My brother took up challenging as a sport and competed against himself and all odds. He excelled in his circumstances, his family life and career. No discredit to the rest of the children in our family, and I include myself; we are not losers. In a sense we all had small victories of our own and yet, it was never in fierce competition with others.
We often mistakenly try to befriend the prophet. We try to force his hand to be anointed as king. I met a man while being in the military, twenty-one years ago. We are still great friends even though we see little of one another nowadays, due to our work situations. We spent six years together in the military. He signed up for permanent force about six months after I did, but for the life of me, I could never keep up with him career-wise. Many a day I would see him walking to the Commanding Officer’s office, drink tea, discussing a function, or two. Eventually I openly blamed him for sucking up to the Officer Commanding. He new exactly what I meant and with a very honest smile he said to me, “I am not sucking up, I am building my shares.” I never held that against him, in fact, I still love him dearly. Many years later we worked for the same company in different units of the corporation. My friend kept building his shares and yes, he has always been one up on me in the corporate world.
Don’t forget to have your facts straight when the prophet shows up. You must be able to take him to the sun-bleached carcass of the slain lion, or at least bring the bones to him. You cannot tell him that you beat your brother in a mock sword fighting contest. Tell him that you are the one who beat the odds; you are the one that broke the bear’s back, not the one who stabbed your friend or colleague in his.
“Fear not men, for they can only take you life, Fear God who can take your soul.” Sound familiar? What do you see when you face the mirror in your bathroom, or in the gym? A body that can beat any man in a show-off competition, or a mind that is focused, a heart that’s willing enough to kill the beast that is threatening the safety of the flock you are tending. Once I had to work under very dangerous, life threatening circumstances, and often asked God if this was where He wanted me to be. The reply came to me through the words of a prophetic minister: “If you are where God wants you to be, you are in the safest place you could ever be.”
Sometimes we are the last in line to be considered for the crown. Had David been in the line-up before the prophet, he would have been picked right away. God worked a little different that day. Remember Cinderella? All the odd-shaped step-sisters tried on the glass slipper, believing it would fit. Not hoping, for that would have been a wish for something they knew they qualified for. They merely believed it would fit because they were from a well-known family and deserved it more than those peasants. Without even knowing it, David showed them how to approach the throne. He was the youngest, so he started off on the foot stool and from there he gradually grew into the comfort of leather, expensive wood and glistening gold.
I still think that somewhere in David’s accommodations he kept the sun-bleached carcass of a slain lion as a firm reminder that, “when others see a shepherd boy, God may see a king.”
(1898 Words)
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