And Now, The Hard Part

I have done a lot of thinking this summer.

Summer is a time for thinking, for there is time. Alarm clocks do not exist for those of us in the teaching class. The best of days are the unscheduled ones. In those hours unclaimed, the mind speaks - in the quiet of the hike; in the shadows of an evening bike ride on a seldom used blacktop; or in the silent perfection I find in my recliner, book in hand, fresh cup of coffee next to me, and my lab's chin resting gently on my lap before anyone in the house stirs.

I've done a lot of reading, a lot of writing, and a lot of speaking the past couple of months. I gave two sermons. I offered advice and challenges. I jabbered through a thousand ideas and wine-inspired goals around a table, around a fire, through letters. But I haven't done a lot of doing.

I haven't had to. It's been vacation, after all. But the summer is over now, and now is the time for doing. It is time for action.

Many people claim to not want to think too hard or too deeply about things; but trust me, thinking is the easy part. Thinking is inspiring. Thinking assumes the best about you and your future. Thinking is full of idealism, and that idealism becomes real in the thinking. Oh, the brilliant teaching ideas I've had! The writing prompts! The acts of friendship! The goals for living and parenting! They all boldly spoke of a wise man living a wise life.

But at some point, then, I've got to get out of the chair. I've got to get off the bike, or put the mower away, or put the cup of coffee down. I've got to clean up the dishes, put the fire out, and get up the next morning. Turning thinking into reality, then, seems possible for another day. Any day but today. And then it is gone.

I do some of my best thinking on Sunday mornings. I typically have time to read the paper. I get great conversation from Sunday School and church relationships. I sit quietly, challenged from the pulpit, inspired by the Good Book during the service. When I walk out of that church door at noon, I'm ready to set the day on fire and then save my little corner of the world all week long. The thinking has been sweet. By some Wednesdays, it's hard to even recognize some of those 4-day-old thoughts as my own.

Stephen Mansfield writes in his book, Mansfield's Book of Manly Men, this quote form Frederick W. Robertson:

Christian life is action: not a speculating, not a debating, but a doing. One thing, and only one, in this world has eternity stamped upon it. Feelings pass; resolves and thoughts pass; opinions change. What you have done lasts - lasts in you. Through the ages, through eternity, what you have done for Christ - that, and only that, your are.

So what good has my thinking been this summer? What action will I live?

I thought and wrote and preached on submitting to one's earthly master in the form of our bosses. How will I now behave in meetings I don't like, following directives I don't agree with, on the days I feel mired in fatigue and complaints? Will my thinking prevail? Will I continue to pray for my bosses, as I so confidently challenged my audience to do? Will I be different in my daily work, noticeably and distinctly different, humble and servant-hearted and Christ-like?

I preached on standing firm to the truth of Scriptures, despite cultural trends. On loving those with whom I disagree, praying for them and serving them, while not apologizing for the Bible. How will I handle those conversations? In what ways will I serve those with whom I vehemently disagree?

I taught on injecting constant truth into life so that we can overcome deceitful feeling. I taught on not allowing a busy schedule to keep us from speaking and reading truth to each other in our households. So what will I do, now that I've written down into my calendar the soccer practices and games, the AWANA meetings, the basketball season, the piano lessons? Will I write my daughter notes for her lunchbox? Will I read and speak Scripture with them?

And the myriad teaching ideas, scribbled in this book, in that margin, on that notebook, in this file? What of those? What of my attempts to be better, to broaden my knowledge, to know more so that I can teach more? Optimism and high-mindedness drips from my plans. Will my actions?

One may think a number of things. But the thinking is nothing. The thinking flees and changes, darting from one wind-blown intention to another, mangled, mangled, mangled until its ashes return, unrecognizable. One is known by their actions. My actions will reach far greater audiences than this blog or my sermons.

The freedom to think remains. But the demand to act is real, offering safe passage for those thoughts here, to the land of the living.