The Sad Mountaintop View

The Sad Mountaintop View--February 14, 2017

"Love does not insist on its own way." [1 Corinthians 13:5]

What happens after you get to the top of the hill?  I suspect it turns out to be something of a letdown.

If you have ever spent any time playing the old children's game, "King of the Hill," I bet you already knew that.  King of the Hill is one of those games that is ridiculously easy to learn as a child, but which reveals something of the ridiculous world of adults, too. 

Step One: Find a mound or little hill, or if necessary, make one--any pile of sand, dirt, or rocks will do.

Step Two: You and all the other players try to climb up to the top first.

Step Three: Once you are at the top, try and keep everybody else from getting your spot on the top of the hill.

Step Four: If someone else pulls you down from the top and makes him or herself the new 'king of the hill,' repeat Steps Two and Three.  Forever.

That's it.  It's an endless loop of players all climbing over each other and clamoring to get their own way.  There is no stopwatch or time-clock ticking down.  There is no prize at the end.  Just the pride of having been on top and getting your own way longer than others did.  You are either clawing at the one who is already on top, or you are stomping on the hands of those who are trying to get your spot.

And of course, if you would actually stop to think about it for a moment while you are kicking and stomping and climbing and clawing, there's nothing particularly "good" about being on top.  It's not that the view is particularly lovely from the top of the hill--we are not talking about a majestic mountain peak, but a pile of rocks only a few feet high usually.  It's not that you really get to take it easy once you are on top of the hill--no, in fact, just the opposite.  You go on permanent defense while you try to stop or slow down everybody else who is gunning for you.  But while you are playing the game, or at least while you are climbing your way to the top to usurp the title of "King of the Hill," it can feel like the most coveted spot in the world to get up there to the top of the dirt-mound.

But you and I both know that being "king of the hill" is not all it's cracked up to be.  It's a lot less exciting once you are up there.

Maybe that's the lesson we were supposed to learn from playing "King of the Hill."  Maybe the game's lesson is to point out its own futility, so that we will know it's a waste of our lives to play it as adults.  Because... here's the thing: it's one thing to waste a fifteen or twenty minutes playing "King of the Hill" as kids who have nothing but disposable time on their hands.  But it's another thing to grow up in to adulthood and still think that "getting your way" will bring you happiness or contentment.   That's a surefire way to waste an entire lifetime.

Of course, we convince ourselves that the quest to make it to the top will be worth it.  We tell ourselves, and we are constantly told by the influence peddlers of the day that we should spend our energy and attention climbing and clawing our way up to the top.  It's just somehow... better, they say. And so even after we have grown out of climbing up to the top of a dirt pile for fun, somehow it still retains its respectability as a philosophy of life for adults.  You make your life plan.  You chart out what you want in life.  And then you climb and grab and pull and push yourself to the point where you are finally on top of the hill. You are supposed to aim for the promotion, regardless of what you have to do to anybody else to get it.  You are supposed to strive to make more and more money, regardless of how affluence poisons your soul.  You are supposed to acquire and accumulate, to get bigger and better, and from the top of your pile of stuff, you will look out on the world, and know you are... the king. And once you are up there, well, then the goal becomes... just holding onto all of it.  To believe those voices of our culture, the point of life is to get your way... and then to keep getting your way.  Do that for long enough, and you'll be seen as a "winner." And you can lull yourself to sleep at night with the pride that you are top.

So whether it's phrased as "I'm looking out for number one," or "I did it my way," or "Me-and-my-group first!", whether it's an unspoken assumption or your official stated policy, it's all still the same old sad, wearying game of "King of the Hill." 

Call that what you will, but it sure ain't the way of Jesus, and it sure ain't what genuine love looks like.  Of course, our culture has never been great at speaking truthfully about real love.  My goodness, look what we have done with the story of Saint Valentine--we've taken the life of someone who so loved Jesus and so loved other people that he was willing to be beaten and executed by the Empire of his day because they saw his allegiance to Jesus as a threat and they feared his way of sharing the Good News, and we've turned it into a day to exchange boxes of cheap chocolates and eat pastel-colored heart-shaped pieces of chalk we call candy.  Maybe we are afraid of what genuine love will cost us, too.

Paul gets it:  "Love does not insist on its own way." The Greek is even more stark:  "Love does not seek after its own."

These words from what we call First Corinthians are probably pretty familiar to our ears, because they are from that passage in 1 Corinthians 13 that is read at, well, every wedding you have every been to.  But they weren't originally meant to be marriage advice.  They aren't primarily about romance at all--they are the hallmark for all of our lives as Christians, every relationship, every interaction.  This is supposed to be our whole way of life!

Think about how radical that is--it's the deliberate overturning of the whole "King of the Hill" logic we are taught in this world.  It is a conscious revolt against the mindset of "My group first!"  It is an outlook grounded in the mercy of God, who loves us the same way, with self-giving, other-seeking love.  You'll note that Paul doesn't say, "Well, it's just in your romantic relationships and marriages that love doesn't insist on its own way--but when it comes to business, it's dog-eat-dog!" You'll note that Paul doesn't say, "Under your own roof, you should put each other first, but hey, with everybody else you meet, you have to get your own way and look out for your own interests first!"  No, there is no asterisk or fine print.  It is simply how love works... all the way around, all the way down.  The followers of Jesus are called to love by laying aside our own interests, and laying down our need to put ourselves first, not just when it's easy--with people who are like us because they are in our families--but with everybody. 

So today, if you never learned it from a childhood game on the old dirt-mound, learn it today: it is a waste of a lifetime, in all seriousness, to seek after your own way in this life.  Once you get to the top of the hill, after all that striving, you see it's been empty and vain... and yet by that point, everyone else is sinking their claws into you to pull themselves up to the top of the rock pile, too. 

Today, we are called into a new way of life, the life marked by genuine love as we have seen it in Jesus.  Today, we are called to find fulfillment by laying down our insistence on getting our own way.

Lord Jesus, your way today, please.  Your way always.  Lord Jesus, immerse us in your love.