Bible Bites
Doing Our Part
Harold Holzer’s book Dear Mr. Lincoln: Letters to the President contains an interesting response from Abraham Lincoln to a letter sent to him by Major General David Hunter. Hunter declared himself “mortified, humiliated, insulted and disgraced” because he had been given a small command in Kansas when mere brigadiers were leading larger armies elsewhere. Lincoln responded in characteristic patience: “I... am sincerely your friend; and if, as such, I dare to make a suggestion, I would say you are adopting the best possible way to ruin yourself. ‘Act well your part, there all the honor lies.’ He who does something at the head of one Regiment, will eclipse him who does nothing at the head of a hundred.”
The Apostle John called it “the pride of life” and it has reared its ugly head time and again in the course of human affairs. Adam and Eve partook of forbidden fruit because they thought God was holding something back that they deserved. “I have my rights” has been the undoing of too many to count. The Tower of Babel was the scene of pitiful little Man trying to climb into the “Big League,” God’s League. “We deserve to be recognized” they cried, though as it turned out, in several different tongues that none of the rest of them knew. The Corinthians thought “tongue-speaking” was the cat's meow and if you didn't possess this gift then you were second-rate. That is, until the Apostle Paul got hold of them and reminded them that love is the greatest gift, and that God placed the parts in the body where God wanted them to be and that all parts were necessary to the properly functioning body. Imagine, he says, a body without ears, or eyes, or nose, or limbs. I have a feeling that the fellow who has lost one of these knows rather acutely how valuable they are. Now humbled, having taken a lowly ear or thumb for granted, he would give all his money to have them back. What a sorry thing pride is!
How much like General Hunter we all are. We deserve more recognition; a bigger piece of the pie. And if we don't get it, then we start hating the one who has it, like Cain did Abel and Saul, David. Paul’s admonition is true (not only for possessions): “I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content” (Philippians 4:11).
Would that we could learn to be content with who and what we are. Would that we learn the secret to happiness by being the best we can possibly be without envying others whose talents range in levels far above ours. Would that we could learn to praise God for their talent and not believe we are diminished because someone else soars higher and farther than we do. Would that we could learn the simple and profound truth: “Act well your part, there all the honor lies.”
It is God who forms the body just as He pleases (cf. 1Corinthians 12:18, 24, 28). Will we take up this arrogant, self-centered complaint with God? Do you suppose His answer might be to show us the nail prints in His hands and feet (cf. Philippians 2:1-11)? Maybe a thumb isn’t as glorious as the eye or mouth, but try functioning without a thumb to see how greatly its value increases in our mind. It was because one lowly colonel held his regiment fast on the extreme right of the Union line that Gettysburg didn’t become a cataclysmic Federal defeat leading to a far different outcome of the Civil War. It was not General Meade who stopped the South at Little Round Top on June 2, 1863, but an unknown colonel named Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain. One hill; one regiment; one man’s dogged determination to hold it at all cost. It was not McClellan that went on to glory, but Grant, because one would fight and the other would not.
Do you suppose the Lord may say to us in the Day of Judgment: “He who did something at the head of one Regiment far eclipsed him who did nothing at the head of a hundred.” Sounds like the Parable of the Talents, doesn’t it? The captain of ten must hold his place in the line if the captain of a thousand is ever to receive his due.
It is the best advice — life-changing, malcontent-shattering advice: “Do your part well, for there all honor lies.”
— In Pressing On, January 2012