Posts Tagged: flexibility

DTEB, “Cultivating a Flexible Heart”

Matthew 12 The Message (MSG)

In Charge of the Sabbath

12 1-2 One Sabbath, Jesus was strolling with his disciples through a field of ripe grain. Hungry, the disciples were pulling off the heads of grain and munching on them. Some Pharisees reported them to Jesus: “Your disciples are breaking the Sabbath rules!”

3-5 Jesus said, “Really? Didn’t you ever read what David and his companions did when they were hungry, how they entered the sanctuary and ate fresh bread off the altar, bread that no one but priests were allowed to eat? And didn’t you ever read in God’s Law that priests carrying out their Temple duties break Sabbath rules all the time and it’s not held against them?

6-8 “There is far more at stake here than religion. If you had any idea what this Scripture meant—‘I prefer a flexible heart to an inflexible ritual’—you wouldn’t be nitpicking like this. The Son of Man is no lackey to the Sabbath; he’s in charge.”

I have been struggling with flexibility of late.  No, that’s not the truth.  I’ve been struggling with flexibility all my life.  I was a stick in the mud, addicted to my own little thises and thats by the time I was seven.

Here of late, it has been my neck that has been a primary focus in my quest for flexibility.  When I try to turn my neck, I find it very difficult to do so.  This is a problem because, unlike young mothers of small children, I do not have eyes in the back of my head.  When I do move my neck, my joints make a very interesting grinding sound.

So, I’ve committed myself to the discipline of flexibility.  It isn’t going to be easy.  I’m good at tunnel vision.  I have been practicing it for decades, and have gotten really good at it.  Peripheral vision?  Not so much.

I am going to practice at least three times a day.  Here is what I plan to do:

  • Turn my head upward a little further than is entirely comfortable.
  • Turn my head downward a bit too much.
  • Look to the left until it hurts a bit.
  • Look to the right until that hurts a bit.

Rinse and repeat!

Of course, there is more at stake than my neck.  There is my heart, and mind, and soul.  Cultivating flexibility in all areas of my life is important.  Jesus talked about flexibility to some ancient religious leaders who thought they had everything figured out.

“There is far more at stake here than religion. If you had any idea what this Scripture meant—ʻI prefer a flexible heart to an inflexible ritualʼ—you wouldn’t be nitpicking like this” (The Message, Matt 12:6-7).

Now, of course, I am quite flexible—when things don’t matter to me.  But there’s the rub: Way too many things matter to me.  And I don’t usually stop to ask some important questions.  Why does this matter so much to me?  Should it?  Does it matter to anyone else?  Should it?  Does it matter to God?

A good article on flexibility (and when not to be flexible) is at https://www.biblewise.com/living/articles/the-power-flexibility.php, accessed 02-12-2020).  The whole thing is good, and would repay you reading it—and a re-reading by me.  Here are a couple of paragraphs from Marjorie F. Eddington, that I thought well worth passing along:

“It makes much more sense to be flexible — to “bend” rather than “break.” All we need to do is look at which trees survive storms — the ones that bend. And yet, sometimes we feel so compelled to hold onto our own way of thinking or acting; we are so convinced that our way is the right way; and we refuse to compromise at all. In such moments, we find ourselves at the point of breaking.

Some people even do break … and then they have to figure out how to put back the pieces of their lives (which is totally possible when we yield everything to God). Other people bend at every little thing and never stand up. This isn’t good either, for these people aren’t expressing the strength and dominion God has given them. They end up feeling deflated or insignificant, even worthless.”

“On Missing Wonderful Gifts”


I nearly missed a wonderful gift from my thoughtful, creative wife the other evening.  It all started with a phone call, and a silly comment that I made.

I had finished a long day of teaching at the university.  It is a hybrid class that only meets on campus three days during the semester.  Everything else is online.

I felt that the day had gone well, and I was very happy.  The students were smart and engaged—an interesting group.  I learned a lot.  I hope they learned something as well.

I called the restaurant where I normally work as a host on Friday nights.  I had requested the night off, and I was pretty tired.  Happy tired, yes, but even happy tired is tired.

Nevertheless, I called.  To my joy, they said “I think we’ll be okay.  Stay home.”

So, I called my wife, and told her the good news.  Yes, the class had gone well (I think), and I did not need to host tonight.  I would be home for supper.  And then I added, “We can just sit together in front of a crackling fire, talk, and watch a little T.V.”

Now, there was one little catch to my proposal.  I like our house, but it does not have a fireplace.  So, of course, sitting in front of a crackling fire was not an option.  However, my sweetheart is, as already mentioned, thoughtful and creative—and she has a very quirky sense of humor.

I was listening to NPR’s “All Things Considered” on the way home to catch up on the news.  Thank God!  The partial shutdown is over!

I was almost home, and it was about the time when NPR features a couple of folks—one conservative, and one liberal—who discuss the week’s political news.  The conversations are often spirited, but not angry.  Hearing some intelligent and civil conversation is quite a treat in these days when yelling seems to be the norm.  So, I really wanted to hear what these commentators had to say about the week in politics.

So, I rushed into the house, leaving my computer and books in the car, and barely said “Hello!” to my wife.  I am not sure if I kissed her or acknowledged how happy our little dog was to see me.  I did notice that my wife had set up the card table in the living room.  I rushed over to the radio in the kitchen, and turned it on.

“I made you a nice supper,” my wife said, rather plaintively.  It still took me way too long to get the obvious point.  I was being a jerk.  Yes, I was being an NPR jerk, which may be slightly better than a generic jerk, but only slightly.  I can be exceedingly oblivious at times.

However, my obliviousity doesn’t usually last as long as it used to last.  I walked into the living room.  My sweetheart had a little candle on the card table, and the T.V. was on.  There was crackling fire in a fireplace from You Tube on our T.V.

I had three simultaneous feelings: dismay, tenderness, and joy.

The joy and tenderness were because of my wife’s creative thoughtfulness.  The dismay was because of my insensitivity.

I turned off the radio.  I sat down at the table for a nice meal in front of a crackling fire.  I also told my wife how nice this was and how sorry I was.

Now, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying NPR.   There’s nothing wrong with appreciating civil discourse.

But there is something profoundly wrong about getting so invested in my own little expectations that I miss grace, that I miss love.  Flexibility is not a native plant in my heart.  Perhaps it isn’t native to anyone’s heart.  But I need to import it, tend it carefully, help it to grow.  Sometimes, the wonder in life comes not from having our expectations met, but by something that blindsides us.  As George MacDonald used us say, “The door opens behind you.”  And sometimes, the fireplace is in front of us.

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