A Word from Howard Thurman
When I was a boy, the little fellows of my age played a kind of softball down on the lower part of the playing field while the big boys played on the big diamond. My sister had a boyfriend who was playing on the big diamond, and I said to one of my chums, "I bet you the next time Willy Williams comes to bat, he'll let me take his place!" So we went up to where they were, and I asked Willy. Of course he knew better than to refuse-when his turn came, he let me take it. What happened I shall never forget. Though I was frightened and could hardly manage the heavy bat, the pitcher threw the ball as hard to me as he did to the big boys. When I turned away after three strikes, there was so much more to me than there had been before. The demand had summoned my fragments into a moment of focus that has influenced me down to the present time. — From Disciplines of the Spirit by Howard Thurman
The first time I read this story by Howard Thurman, I stopped to reflect on some of the moments in my life that “summoned my fragments into a moment of focus.” In other words, moments that required my complete attention. The memories poured in like water when the tap is opened. Some were glorious — like when I used the Heimlich maneuver and saved a lady from choking; others shameful — like when I stole a digital recorder from the grocery store. All of them “influenced me down to the present time.”
There is something amazing about moments like these because most of us go through life with many of our parts on “power-save” mode. This is a good thing. A lot of focus was required when we were learning to walk or drive; now, we arrive at places wondering how we got there so fast. But every now and then, it is important to do things, preferably virtuous things, that require complete attentiveness. Things that force you to cast yourself upon the mercy of God.
Why?
Because you learn something about reality, about yourself, you gain what Dave Chappelle calls “expensive knowledge.” That is, knowledge that can only be gained through experience, like facing down a 100 mph fastball, telling the truth when it will get you in trouble, or courageously mastering your fears when every bone in your body is quaking.
Good teachers incorporate moments like this into their curriculum. Jesus, the master teacher, would send his disciples out to do something hard every now and then (for if it happened too often, the student would be crushed beneath the weight of failure).
These twelve Jesus sent out, instructing them, “Go nowhere among the Gentiles and enter no town of the Samaritans, but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. And proclaim as you go, saying, ‘The kingdom of heaven is at hand.’ Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse lepers, cast out demons (Matthew 10:5-8)…
The gospels don’t record this, but I’m certain some of the disciples said, “Excuse me, Lord, what!? You want us to do what?” True, the record states that they went out and had great success on this mission (Luke 10:17), but it doesn’t record the mixture of fear, faith, hesitancy and focus that must have accompanied them as they went. It was an experience that made an indelible impression on them and influenced them for the rest of their lives.
I try to remember this as an educator myself. If we only educate the brain, saturating it with information until, like a sponge, it can contain no more, we will rob them of the greatness that comes through experiences that demand total focus: mind, body, and soul.
God has made us for greatness. His plans, as he stated in Isaiah 55, are so much higher than ours. The thoughts he has for us are too marvelous for us to comprehend. Indeed, if we knew of them, we would think he made a mistake. But he hasn’t. As we follow him in the way of Jesus, we will meet the challenges and opportunities that will mold us into the kinds of people he created us to be. As we engage them, even if we meet failure, we will gain the expensive knowledge that will profit us for the rest of our lives.
So, the next time a moment comes that grips your attention, that demands everything of you, that scares you half to death, remember that there may be something gained in engaging it. Cast yourself upon the mercy of God, trusting that he will bring you out on the other side as a different person.
Amen. Writing and publishing. Kind of like facing a pitcher that can throw 100 mph but maybe at times a little wild. What I’m Sauk g os that I admire your courage to put your thoughts out there not knowing if you will make a hit or swing and miss.
“Fear not, for. I am with you always.”