My grandmother never worked for the Pentagon. She never commanded front line troops. Nor was she a child psychologist. But, she knew something all of them knew: idle hands are the devils work shop. She taught me and all my cousins the art of industry, the value of work, and the trip wires of idleness. Church strategists could learn a thing or two from wise old people like her.
Hands tell a lot about a person. Chewed nails, rough skin, nicotine stained fingers, the intricate decorations of a nice manicure, callouses, smooth lotion pampered hands, dis-located joints, and the bent angles of arthritis, all speak of the ways our hands reflect life. We talk with them, gesture with them, love with them, pet with them, play sports with them, recreate with them, and serve with them. Or, do nothing with them. Unoccupied, they pose the threat my grandmother warned us about: letting our vacant minds send them messages of mischief. Idle hands sometimes mean trouble.
Several years ago a retired Army Colonel explained an interesting dynamic about the deployment of military troops in wartime. He said front line soldiers are alert and constantly on point. Lives depend on their precise performance. So, generally, they do their jobs, eat their meals, occupy their fox holes, stand their guard or watch, without complaint or serious inter-personal conflict. By comparison, personnel in rear areas grouse about the food, the living conditions, and the smelly grunt in the next cot. He made it clear it's what grandma said about idle hands.
OK, so sophisticated moderns fear idleness like the plague and today we all know how to either stay busy, or give the appearance of staying busy. Busy-ness has taken the place of business in many work environments, resulting in flagging production statistics, drooping manufacturing numbers, and a basically sluggish marketplace. Oh yes, and churches with plenty of activity and little mission.
And, according to many church strategists, enough internal conflict to insure loss of mission. The learned professionals of church leadership and administration simply confirm grandma wisdom, played out in a larger church setting: idle hands are the devils work shop. So, as a result, the mission shifts to maintenance issues---keeping the rules and regs up-to-date, polishing the floors, making sure the staff logs in their hours correctly each day, crunching the numbers, purchasing new pads for the pews, and lots of other busy work to justify even being there.
Jesus never flinched when talking about mission. He told them the day was short, the night was coming, and they should be about the Father's business with a sense of urgency that kept them occupied. Occupied till He returns again. He made sure they knew the mission---that is, making disciples---and he gave them the back-drop under which thay mission could happen---as they were going. He taught them and showed them how to care for other people along the way, and how to deal with the internal bumps that happened as they served together.
The author of Hebrews wrote this advice: "Therefore, strengthen your tired hands..." (Hebrews 12:12). Now, he could have used metaphorical language to address their hard lives as they faced persecution, endured discipline from the Father, or dealt with the demands of living in difficult times. Or, he could actually have encouraged them to prepare more urgently for the mission, for using their hands in fulfilling the assignment Jesus had given them.
You see, it's in the hands, the mission. And, I'm praying He'll find us busy pursuing the mission of making disciples with the hands He has given us.
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