This blog is a few days late. If anything, this tardiness has smashed an OCD compulsion in me to do everything punctually. "Punctuality is the politeness of princes" is an adage I heard frequently as a child. My entire family suffer from this affliction, with the exception of one brother who has passed away. While out shopping in London I saw a fridge magnet that said, "It is pointless to be punctual because there is no one there to appreciate it." That is very true! I have stood in solitary punctuality at a party, while the hostess is upstairs putting on her make-up, silently and occasionally audibly, complaining because I have arrived inconveniently early. This is as unjust as something else that happened to my family on one memorable occasion. Our immediate next door neighbours were known to enjoy several pre-dinner drinks. They were invited to an evening of dinner and bridge at our house, along with other guests. It was winter and a fire was burning in the fireplace. After dinner a bridge game started, but the man from next door preferred to sit comfortably by the fire and keep drinking. Eventually the food, warmth, and copious amounts of alcohol took their inevitable toll, and he fell asleep in his chair. The bridge game concluded just before midnight, the other guests departed, but as our neighbours literally had 30 metres to walk home, he was left asleep in his chair while things were cleared up. At midnight the cuckoo clock on the mantelpiece cuckooed twelve times. Our neighbour awoke with a perceptible start, looked at the clock, looked around the room, and demanded of his wife in a loud and irascible tone, "Don't these bleep bleep Clerks ever know when to go home? Tell them to go so that I can go to bed!"
I carried on the family tradition of drilling punctuality into Christie with missionary fervour, instilling in her a positive dread of being late for anything, ever. I think I told her that it was one of the rudest things any human could do to another, to keep them waiting. I added to the human element by invoking the Deity. If we were never on time, I told my young daughter, then we could expect GOD to be tardy in answering our prayers. She was the type of child who prayed for most things she needed or wanted, like her first drum kit, because I was not in a position to buy them for her. She saw miracle after miracle of answered prayer, so the thought of God taking His time to answer her because she had been late for an appointment was enough to instill lifelong Clerk punctuality in her. Imagine, then, when God put Christie into the music industry, one of the most notoriously "never on time" industries in the universe. Oh my! My ever punctual daughter would be champing at the bit to get out of the house to get to sound check "on time." As the fridge magnet said, no one was there to appreciate it. The other musicians and sound technicians would arrive anything up to two hours late. My deceased brother would have done well as a sound man. The gigs would be set to start at a particular hour. Occasionally I attended. I would be seated, waiting. Christie would be dressed and made up, waiting. And the rest of the crowd, musicians and patrons alike, would stroll in AEONS late, without a care in the world, joking with each other with an insouciance that made me want to slap them all hard!!
Then there is church. We used to start our services at 8.30. Maybe twenty or thirty percent of the congregation would be in church, waiting to worship, at 8.30. The rest were still on their way to church. Some, I feel sure, were still eating breakfast. Imagine my chagrin. I couldn't mouth off to the good guys who had arrived on time. I had to swallow my gall, remind myself that I was a Christian and had to preach soon, and didn't dare allow all my carnality to hang out. I had to close my eyes, resist the urge to fantasize about what I would like God to do to latecomers, and focus on worshipping Him instead. I tried very hard to outwit the unpunctual members of my congregation. I tried turning the entire church around, putting the band at the back of the church with all the chairs facing the doors through which the latecomers entered. I took gleeful pleasure at the looks of horror when they sauntered through the back doors as usual, only to find the entire church looking at them. I tried EVERYTHING. I begged, pleaded, cajoled, rebuked, all to no avail. Then one day I made an announcement! They had won, I declared, and I had lost. I would change the time of the service from 8.30 to 9.00, and then WOE BETIDE anyone who arrived late. It took only three weeks for the breakfast eaters to eat breakfast later, allowing them to arrive at any time up till 9.30. I had lost the battle. I couldn't keep pushing the service later and later. But I hadn't counted on God coming to my rescue.
One Sunday morning a few months ago we ran out of parking places. We had already run out of space, but once the parking ran out, there was no option other than to go to two morning services in English, and one in isiZulu. God had saved my sanity. He had also blessed everyone else. Now everyone had TWO service times to choose between. They could come at 8.00 and be out by 9.30. That would suit the early risers. Or they could sleep in and come to the 10.15 service and be out by 11.45. Everyone was happy. To my total shock I found that many of the latecomers opted for the 8.00 o'clock service. WHY I have to ask myself? Why, when you were never on time for the 9.00 o'clock service, are you now on time for the early service? Others who were always punctual have chosen the later service. You know what? I don't mind a bit. As long as everyone is getting to church, and God is blessing us and adding to our numbers every week, I am content.
But what about being on time? I know that I lived with no salary for many years, and God was faithful to provide my every need. I also know that there were times when a need SEEMED to be answered at the very last minute. But often, when this was the case, God had put it into the person's heart to bring me money, food, clothing, or whatever the need was. The person then put it off because it was inconvenient to respond to the prompting of the Spirit at the time. I know because they would sometimes tell me. "Oh, God told me last week to bring you this, but it is the first chance I have had." I never told them that I had been waiting and praying all the time they had been delaying delivery. I made up my mind then, and have honestly tried to live by it, to be as punctual in GIVING as I am in getting to meetings on time. I want God to be able to put HUGE things in my hand to give to my church, or to a person, or people. The only way I know to prove my faithfulness is by punctuality in obedience. If I do it when God asks me to, then I pray that He will give me more and more opportunities to be His delivery person. What about you?
Till next time, hopefully ON time, God bless you. Fiona
I carried on the family tradition of drilling punctuality into Christie with missionary fervour, instilling in her a positive dread of being late for anything, ever. I think I told her that it was one of the rudest things any human could do to another, to keep them waiting. I added to the human element by invoking the Deity. If we were never on time, I told my young daughter, then we could expect GOD to be tardy in answering our prayers. She was the type of child who prayed for most things she needed or wanted, like her first drum kit, because I was not in a position to buy them for her. She saw miracle after miracle of answered prayer, so the thought of God taking His time to answer her because she had been late for an appointment was enough to instill lifelong Clerk punctuality in her. Imagine, then, when God put Christie into the music industry, one of the most notoriously "never on time" industries in the universe. Oh my! My ever punctual daughter would be champing at the bit to get out of the house to get to sound check "on time." As the fridge magnet said, no one was there to appreciate it. The other musicians and sound technicians would arrive anything up to two hours late. My deceased brother would have done well as a sound man. The gigs would be set to start at a particular hour. Occasionally I attended. I would be seated, waiting. Christie would be dressed and made up, waiting. And the rest of the crowd, musicians and patrons alike, would stroll in AEONS late, without a care in the world, joking with each other with an insouciance that made me want to slap them all hard!!
Then there is church. We used to start our services at 8.30. Maybe twenty or thirty percent of the congregation would be in church, waiting to worship, at 8.30. The rest were still on their way to church. Some, I feel sure, were still eating breakfast. Imagine my chagrin. I couldn't mouth off to the good guys who had arrived on time. I had to swallow my gall, remind myself that I was a Christian and had to preach soon, and didn't dare allow all my carnality to hang out. I had to close my eyes, resist the urge to fantasize about what I would like God to do to latecomers, and focus on worshipping Him instead. I tried very hard to outwit the unpunctual members of my congregation. I tried turning the entire church around, putting the band at the back of the church with all the chairs facing the doors through which the latecomers entered. I took gleeful pleasure at the looks of horror when they sauntered through the back doors as usual, only to find the entire church looking at them. I tried EVERYTHING. I begged, pleaded, cajoled, rebuked, all to no avail. Then one day I made an announcement! They had won, I declared, and I had lost. I would change the time of the service from 8.30 to 9.00, and then WOE BETIDE anyone who arrived late. It took only three weeks for the breakfast eaters to eat breakfast later, allowing them to arrive at any time up till 9.30. I had lost the battle. I couldn't keep pushing the service later and later. But I hadn't counted on God coming to my rescue.
One Sunday morning a few months ago we ran out of parking places. We had already run out of space, but once the parking ran out, there was no option other than to go to two morning services in English, and one in isiZulu. God had saved my sanity. He had also blessed everyone else. Now everyone had TWO service times to choose between. They could come at 8.00 and be out by 9.30. That would suit the early risers. Or they could sleep in and come to the 10.15 service and be out by 11.45. Everyone was happy. To my total shock I found that many of the latecomers opted for the 8.00 o'clock service. WHY I have to ask myself? Why, when you were never on time for the 9.00 o'clock service, are you now on time for the early service? Others who were always punctual have chosen the later service. You know what? I don't mind a bit. As long as everyone is getting to church, and God is blessing us and adding to our numbers every week, I am content.
But what about being on time? I know that I lived with no salary for many years, and God was faithful to provide my every need. I also know that there were times when a need SEEMED to be answered at the very last minute. But often, when this was the case, God had put it into the person's heart to bring me money, food, clothing, or whatever the need was. The person then put it off because it was inconvenient to respond to the prompting of the Spirit at the time. I know because they would sometimes tell me. "Oh, God told me last week to bring you this, but it is the first chance I have had." I never told them that I had been waiting and praying all the time they had been delaying delivery. I made up my mind then, and have honestly tried to live by it, to be as punctual in GIVING as I am in getting to meetings on time. I want God to be able to put HUGE things in my hand to give to my church, or to a person, or people. The only way I know to prove my faithfulness is by punctuality in obedience. If I do it when God asks me to, then I pray that He will give me more and more opportunities to be His delivery person. What about you?
Till next time, hopefully ON time, God bless you. Fiona
greetings, Fiona, from the beautiful Pacific NW. I needed this today, and am glad to have stopped in.
ReplyDeleteI also grew up and still live with the thought that it is rude to keep others waiting, through have occasionally been known to make that lapse. I have been the only one arriving early or on time to events multiple times, and dearly understand and empathize with this.
I have noticed a similar phenomena with people in the Portland area, at churches I have attended, wherein when a new service comes about or a time is reset for a service, people don't always behave the way that the pastoral staff believe they will, as your story illustrates. It's good that you are taking the high road of thought that, at least people are coming; being blessed, hearing the Word of the Lord. :)
And I also empathize with the illustration you give from your days without salary. I have been there for a while now, and am only now beginning to see the light on that one, but God has indeed been faithful.
Many blessings to you. You are in my prayers...
Harmony