“It helps, now and then, to step back and take the long view. The Kingdom is not only beyond our efforts: it is beyond our vision.
We accomplish in this lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is the Lord’s work. Nothing we do is complete, which is another way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us.
No sermon says all that should be said. No prayer fully expresses our faith. No confession brings perfection. No pastoral visit brings wholeness. No program accomplishes the Church’s mission. No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
That is what we are about. We plant the seeds that one day will grow. We water seeds already planted knowing they hold future promise. We lay foundations that will need further development. We provide yeast that affects far beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something, and to do it very, very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest. We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the Master Builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs. We are prophets of a future that is not our own.”
Often attributed to Oscar Romero, these are the words of Ken Untener
Currently reading A.J. Langguth’s Revolutionary War history, Patriots. It’s excellent – fast-paced, full of memorable character sketches, and considering the time span it covers, quite clear in laying out the causes and context of the events.
Langguth writes memorably about Colonel William Prescott, one of the heroes of the Battle of Bunker Hill. Prescott was clearly a bold and courageous man. He led the troops that dug in on top of Breed’s Hill (mistakenly called Bunker Hill and so inshrined in our history as such), and though he lost that battle, inflicted terrible losses on the British forces, who outnumbered the Americans more than 2 to 1. Langguth writes that prior to the battle, the British General Gage was examining with a looking glass the American preparations on top of the hill. He noticed a figure on top who seemed to be in command, and handed the glass to his aide to see if he could identify the man. The aide could; it was his brother in law, William Prescott.
“Will he fight?” Gage asked.
“I cannot answer for his men,” the aide responded, “but Prescott will fight you to the gates of hell.”
Prescott believed he could have won the battle that day if he had received the support of other American officers, who had either fled from the scene or refused to rally to his side. One such officer was General Israel Putnam, whose regiment was only about 600 yards away and yet who never joined the battle.
Following Prescott’s retreat, he confronted Putnam. “Why did you not support me, General, with your men?”
Putnam responded, “I could not drive the dogs up.”
Prescott would have none of it. “If you could not drive them up,” he said, “you might have led them up.”