Relocating To Elfland

Since I think a case can be made that cessation of conflict is central to the mission of God and His people in the world, I’m fascinated by conflict resolution. Maybe this is a throwback to my legal days; certainly it has a lot to do with my current work as a pastor. Anyway, with many others I have observed that almost all conflicts happen because of disappointment, of frustrated expectations. Party A didn’t measure up to Party B’s standards, and Party B is upset. In short, conflicts happen because someone thinks someone else isn’t doing enough.

Not long ago I was on the receiving end of criticism from a person who thought I wasn’t doing enough, and it got me thinking again about the problem of falling short of another person’s standards. There’s something peculiar about this accusation: “You’re not doing enough. There’s so much more you should be doing. How could you not have done this, that, or the other thing?”

In the first place, the power someone can wield through this accusation is mind-blowing, for the simple reason that it’s always true and, in that sense, always unanswerable. When is it not the case that one might have done more, done other, and/or done better? There’s not a moment in my life when someone couldn’t look over my shoulder and say there’s more I could and should be doing. Could I love God more? Of course! Should I love Him more? Definitely. How about my neighbors – could I love them more, and should I? Without question. There’s not a person in my life I couldn’t (and shouldn’t) love more. So the accusation “You’re not doing enough” is cheap; it packs more wallop than it ought, because while true, it merely states what is and will always be the case – which means it doesn’t really say anything. It’s like a petulant child saying to a sibling, “You keep breathing. It bothers me.” Well, duh. The issue is not whether the accused should be doing more, but whether the accuser has a right to expect more. So why does the accusation so often have such bullying power? This brings us to a further consideration.

There are always reasons why someone isn’t doing more. Finitude, for one. There may be less excusable reasons. But the accusation “You’re not doing enough” doesn’t require the accuser to care about these reasons in the slightest. He or she can simply fire off the accusation, it will sting every time because the accused knows it contains an element of truth, and then the accuser can buzz on without bearing the slightest burden to think about (or mention to anyone else, in cases of public accusation) why the accused has not done more. It’s a win-win for the accuser: all the force of an argument without any need to examine the evidence.

The simple fact is: one can’t do everything. So, while there are many things one can (and should) be doing, one must be selective, and selectivity (as anyone knows who’s ever tried to practice it) takes a ton of wisdom. There will always be good things – really compelling things – that must be left undone. And at day’s end, this isn’t wrong, it doesn’t mean one is failing culpably; so perhaps we need to revisit the language of “should” or “ought.” Is it really the case that because there are people starving in the world, I ought to drop out of school or quit my job and go feed them? Is it really the case that because I have friends who are lonely, I should be out multiple evenings a week offering them society? Is it really the case that because my spouse has told me it means the world when I respond in certain ways, I’m duty bound to respond in those ways every single time an opportunity presents? Certainly not – though these are very good things to do, and in some qualified sense I “ought” to do them (there are always more horizons of love before me).

Thinking about all of this led me to something else, and it hit me hard. Perhaps we shouldn’t feel too badly when we hear we’re “not doing enough.” Yes, we ought to take the criticism seriously and learn from it what we can. But there’s Someone Else who suffers the same criticism all the time, and He doesn’t even have the excuse of finitude! God is a disappointment to everyone who has ever worshiped Him (except Jesus); no human has ever been grumbled against as much as God. And He’s perfect! “Did He bring us out into this wilderness to kill us?” “Why is He healing on the Sabbath?” “Why couldn’t He have let me be healthy on a day when I have so much work to do?” It makes you think, again, that the problem is not with the accused, but with the accuser. I’m frustrated: God ought to be doing more for me. Really?

Let me offer an encouraging word to you if people don’t understand (or want to understand) why you’re not doing more, and if you’re in the teeth of their grumbling and criticism. Your critics are not your judge, God is, and He sympathizes as no one else can with the pain of being snarled at by disaffected people who’re supposed to be on your side. He has suffered long over millennia with a grumbling, demanding, critical people. Yet being reviled, He reviled not again; when He suffered, He threatened not. Don’t try to answer your accusers (unless they’re the sort of friends with whom you can speak constructively about these things and learn together); commit yourself and your works to Him who judges righteously – who takes account of your deepest desires and motives, your finitude and frailty, your many competing callings and duties. He will receive the work of your hands with grace; He has made it all acceptable through the imputed righteousness of One who did all that He requires, whatever the human critics of that One may have thought. If the conflict with your accusers doesn’t cease, at least the conflict in your own heart will; and that is a peace not to be taken lightly.