Earn This
Read the story first: Earn This.
Nugget of Wisdom
Grace cannot be earned. The life that comes after it can be honored.
SOP
Sit facing each other. If comfortable, hold hands. Close your eyes and remove distractions. Think of the person who gave you something you could never pay back. A man who died so you could live. A parent. A mentor. The Lord Himself, the night you asked. Tell your partner what you have done with it, and what you have not. Focus on the debt and the trying, not on keeping score. After reflecting, share your story with each other. When finished, come together as a group and talk about what stood out.
Questions
- “Tell me I’ve been a good man.” Who would you ask that of, and what are you afraid they would say?
- What was handed to you that you did not earn? Name it plainly.
- Grace is not a get-out-of-jail-free card. Where have you been treating it like one?
- Your partner said “I tried” about something tonight. What was it, and did you hear it?
- When your life is weighed on honest scales, what do you hope is on the scale that nobody has seen?
Closing Reflection
I never wanted recognition. I wanted the privilege of pulling the ore cart, and I am asking that my life be weighed honestly, not generously. That is all any of us can ask. Many of the most faithful people in this world will never be thanked for the loads they carried. Carry yours anyway. Then, when you fall flat on your face, and you will, get back up and keep walking.
Mission for the Week
Go together to a cemetery, a memorial, or the veterans’ section of any graveyard in your town. Walk it. Do not rush the walk; take the whole afternoon if you need it. The men buried there gave more than an afternoon. Find one name. Stand there long enough to ask yourself the question Ryan asked.
On the way home, each of you tell the other one load you have carried that nobody ever thanked you for. Then thank them. Say it plain: “Thank you for carrying that.”
Before the week is out, find one person in your life who has carried a load for you without a word. A parent, a coworker, the man who plows your driveway, the woman who has taught your grandchild’s Sunday school class for ten years. Thank them to their face. Not a card. Their face.
You will not be thanked for most of what you carry. Thank somebody anyway, this week, while they are still here to receive it. That is how a man who tried gets to say, honestly, that he tried.
Drafted for review — not yet approved by Ron.