Our Living Symphony--September 14, 2022

Our Living Symphony--September 14, 2022

"Am I not free? Am I not an apostle? Have I not seen Jesus our Lord? Are you not my work in the Lord? If I am not an apostle to others, at least I am to you; for you are the seal of my apostleship in the Lord." [1 Corinthians 9:1-2]

In the end, the legacies we leave behind in people are always more important than the ones carved into stone monuments or engraved on metal plaques. In our wiser moments we remember that, even while the wider culture around us clamors for statues, trophies, and getting your name in big gold letters on a building.  But sometimes we struggle to believe it.  Sometimes we need others to remind us about the fingerprints we all leave on each other's hearts.

To be honest, when I read these words from First Corinthians, I think of that 1996 Richard Dreyfuss movie, Mr. Holland's Opus.  In case it's been a few years since you've seen it, or in case you never have, Dreyfuss plays the title character, Mr. Holland, who aspires to be a classical composer but gets a job as a music teacher in a public school in the thought he will only do it for as long as he has to in order to pay the bills before he makes his break.  And, as you might imagine, his aspirations are derailed as life unfolds--raising a family, living through the turmoil of the second half of the 20th century, teaching students, and aging.  At the end of the movie, a now old Mr. Holland is retiring, and a former student [now the governor of their state] addresses an auditorium full of the lives he has touched over the course of his career.  Her speech gets me every time.  She says that even though Mr. Holland never got to be a famous composer or make a fortune, all of those people in the room are his living symphony.  The lives he has left an impression on are the melody and the notes of his opus.  The legacy he leaves is in their lives, and the way those lives now make a difference rippling outward for others.  It is unapologetically a sappy and heartfelt ending as only celluloid can deliver--but it's not wrong.

And as theology, it's actually pretty good.  Paul thinks so, at least.  As he changes gears again in this letter, he now addresses the people in the congregation and has a Mr. Holland's Opus moment. He sees that their own lives, and the fact that they have been drawn into the Way of Jesus, are ultimately the evidence of his ministry as an apostle.  There will be no statues of Paul erected in his lifetime, and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't want one anyway.  Paul would not live to see any churches named after him, and again, I'm absolutely certain he would have been upset if he did.  He doesn't even think of his legacy in terms of the works he has written--even though letters with Paul's name on them will end up being half of the New Testament!  

That's really amazing if you think about it. Here's the one person responsible for more of the New Testament than any other single writer, Christianity's first true theologian, and he doesn't even mention the words he has written as the proof of his life's work.  He speaks of the people.  He thinks of the faces he has known and misses. He thinks of the ways their lives are becoming evidence for others that Jesus is risen from the dead.  He thinks of how their love will be the thing that makes the difference and draws someone else into the community of Jesus.  He sees the ways they extend grace to one another, to strangers, and to enemies, and he understands that those are the most important marks he can leave on the world.  The evidence of the way he has spent his life will be in human beings, not in money, power, fame, monuments, or empire-building.  And he is content with that.

And I hope I can learn to walk in Paul's footsteps, too.  I hope I never become the kind of person who cares about monuments, plaques, or memorials with my name on them.  I hope I never confuse being well-known for making a difference.  And I certainly hope I never become more interested in being remembered for decades than in embodying the love of Jesus right here and now in as many small, overlookable ways as I can.  There will be times when I mess it up and get fussy about wanting recognition in some "permanent" form that's etched in stone or engraved in metal.  But I hope all it will take is the lives of actual followers of Jesus to help me snap out of it and to remember that the most important marks we leave will be on the hearts of others and, hopefully, the ways we have held those hearts as tenderly as Jesus does.

Today, may we approach the work, the conversations, and the opportunities of this day ahead clear-eyed about what matters and what endures--the ways we have loved people, and walked with them to grow in love as well. May that be our life's work, our "opus," and our living symphony.

Lord Jesus, may we be the evidence of your work in the world... and may we spend our energies this day investing ourselves in people rather than monuments or accolades.