CHAPTER 11 - So You Want To Belong

DID YOU ever have the feeling as you sat in church that somehow you just didn’t belong to the group? At home, as a boy with three sisters and no brothers, I sometimes had the feeling that I was an outsider, that the family was one, except for me. Remembering this in later years, it came to me that there are thousands of people today who have no sense of belonging to any group. It was said of Judas Iscariot that he was numbered among the disciples “and had obtained part of this ministry”; yet he never quite “belonged” to the apostolic group because his spirit, purposes, and ambitions were all foreign to most of theirs.

One man said to me, “I feel like an outsider in my own family. I just don’t belong.” Another was speaking of the coffee break at the shop where he works. You know how it is: you get a cup of coffee and perhaps a doughnut, and then join a little conversation group for ten minutes of chatter and relaxation. This fellow said, “I’m not one of them. Whenever I edge up toward the group, they all clam up, and the silence lets me know I’m not welcome.” He worried about it because it made him feel like a social outcast.

Why do people feel like outsiders when they think they should be accepted by the group? Well, first, if you feel that way, maybe you are different. The non-drinker invariably feels outside the fellowship of the boys who never hold an executive meeting without serving a round of drinks. An intelligent, capable Christian executive said to me one day, years ago, “I’ve gone about as far up the ladder as these fellows are going to allow me to go. These men who hold my promotion “in their hands” all drink and I don’t. They never let me forget that I am ‘different.’ ” Again, when the clean-minded Christian edges up to a group while an off-color story is being told, he cramps their style; they don’t feel comfortable. So they withhold fellowship from him. The person with high principles in variably gets the “brush off” from members of the compromising fellowship. An important businessman said, “Why don’t people like me? I seem to get just so close to them, and then all of a sudden a barrier goes up, and I’m on the outside. I want to be liked.” Of course he does. Everyone wants to be liked. Don’t believe the man who says it makes no difference to him whether people like him or not.

The trouble is, millions want to be liked without bothering to be likable, so people keep them at arm’s length. Often the person thus shut out becomes a problem to society because of his rejection. Problem people often develop problem attitudes, for when you feel yourself to be rejected from a circle of desired fellowship, you tend consciously or unconsciously to strike back, to get even. Retaliation begins. Inside, something is saying, “I’ll show ’em!” The misbehavior of many a child can be traced back to the day when a new baby was born in the home. It took the mother’s time and attention away from the older child, and he felt neglected and rejected; so he kicked up his heels and created scenes just to regain the attention he was used to receiving. It is also probably true that many a man has been driven into the arms of another woman because he did not receive the loving attention for which he hungered at home. This doesn’t justify his philandering, but may help to explain it.

Psychologists tell us that self-centeredness is responsible for much of this feeling of not belonging, for when our self-interest continues to be overwhelmingly greater than our interest in other people, loneliness is inevitable. What many people fail to realize is that any sense of belonging has a certain price tag attached to it, and part of that price is sharing, cooperating, and participating in group activities and projects. For example, you don’t have to contribute to the flower fund someone is collecting for the funeral of a neighbor, but if you do not give when you are very apparently able to do so, expect someone to comment on it, whether that is right or wrong. It is human nature to do so.

That’s right, you don’t have to support the Red Feather organization in your community, but if your fellow workers discover that you are a holdout, expect to be criticized and perhaps “blackballed” because of it, because if they have paid and pledged some of their own hard-earned money to support community needs, they will resent it if you ride free. If a neighbor’s house is burning, you don’t have to help carry out the furniture, but your refusal will later become a subject of conversation.

If you want to belong, you must accept your full share of responsibility in the group. You may say, “The P.T.A. in our local school is a good thing,” but if you do not attend, although your children are enrolled in that particular school, don’t wonder any longer as to why you sense a lack of “belonging” in certain neighborhood groups of younger parents.

Life can sometimes be very stern. It has a way of expecting something from those to whom something has been given. Nothing is ever really free. “Give and it shall be given you.” Hold out, and people will hold out on you. This is true whether you apply it to one person’s relationship to a group or to a group’s relationship to a larger society. For example, while pastoring in Dayton, Ohio, I was always active in the local ministerial association. One day someone reported to our meeting that a certain religious group which operated schools and churches in our community, had paid no city water bills for years. We didn’t like it, because our churches had to pay water bills every month. We don’t like people who ride free through unearned special privilege while we have to pay.

Perhaps the most common reason for this feeling of not belonging is a lack of genuine love and affection for people. Do you notice how again and again I must come back to the subject of the importance of love in discussing our mutual problems? How important it is. But many of us fail at this point. This fellow who attended a certain church for five years and then said, “I don’t feel that I’m one of them. I don’t feel at home there,” probably isn’t investing enough of his time, money, and energy there. He is holding out somewhere. You’ve got to be a “stockholder” in order to find a genuine interest in the business sessions of your church.

To live in a good community for years and then say, “I’m still an outsider,” is generally, although not always, a reflection of your own attitudes. Have you held yourself apart from people? Give, share, take time, and you will soon “belong.” One of the teenager’s greatest tragedies comes in feeling he doesn’t belong to his group. He can hardly stand to be left out, cut out, or ignored by his group.

All of us seek acceptance with certain persons or groups, but how often are we not willing to pay the stipulated price for acceptance. If you would be accepted by a prayer group, meet with them regularly for prayer and fellowship. If you would be accepted by a work group, roll up your sleeves and join them at the project at which they are presently engaged. If you would be accepted by your church, you must become one with them in spirit, purpose, activity, and responsibility. Share their dreams, their worship, their work, their giving for local and worldwide needs. Be willing also to share in any persecution they may draw because of their spirit and work. And never utter a word of destructive criticism against a single member. Nothing breaks fellowship more quickly than criticism, secret or open. And when members of the church stick out their necks on a moral issue in the community, stick your neck out, also.

It needs to be emphasized that all of us have to earn the right to belong to any group or fellowship. If you take but never give, you will never feel that you belong. If you take love but never give it, you will remain outside the inner fellowship. If you wish a happy marriage but entirely on your own terms, it will evade you. Marriage is a loving partnership, a concerned sharing experience. A psychiatrist once said that our mental hospitals are full of people who don’t like themselves. Some hate themselves. When they came to the place where they couldn’t stand themselves any longer, they broke down. You and I need to ask in all honesty, “What kind of a person am I? Where do I find my level of fellowship? With whom do I feel most at home? Why? Which gives me the greater pleasure, to love or to be loved?” Who is the happiest, most lovable person you know? Think about it for a moment. I would guess that it is someone who loves and cares and serves and gives. At this point I remember Mother Sherwood. She reared no children of her own, but everyone in our community had been adopted as her “family.” How she loved people! Her telephone would ring night and day as troubled folk were in need of prayer, or wished to pour out their hearts to someone who would understand and care. If you happened to be with her when such a call came in, she would hang up the receiver, then say, “Let’s get down on our knees and pray for this dear woman right now.” Or, “Will you excuse me? I must go over to comfort that poor woman. She has had more than anyone ought to be called upon to bear.” Mother Sherwood was never plagued with a sense of not belonging. The world was her parish.

I think also of my dear friend Tom Dearing, who was a drug salesman for several years and then bought a small corner store and opened his own drug business. Tom was no more than started, however, when a chain drug group built a larger and better-equipped store just a block away. Oh, they invited Tom to buy in with them, saying they didn’t want to hurt him, but Tom stayed out, wanting to be free to manage his own business. Actually, there was no reason for him to fear competition, for Tom loved people. While my mother was still living, Tom Dearing knew more about her ills than did her own doctor, for he had a sympathetic ear, and an even more sympathetic heart, and she felt his compassion. He was always doing things for needy, troubled people.

We heard many stories of his benevolence, like the case of the young ministerial student at the nearby seminary whose child had been ill with a protracted sickness. The student’s finances were meager, and the needed drugs expensive. The bill mounted at the drugstore; but when the child had recovered, Mr. Dearing sent the father a bill with “Paid in Full” written across it. There was also the time when he slipped a ten-dollar bill to a needy student. No one knows how many other kindnesses he rendered, but people hear of such gracious deeds and remember them. They all loved Tom Dearing, and when the new store, moved in, they stayed with him. Tom owns both stores now, and has bought a third one from this very would-be competitor. He isn’t worried about not “belonging” to his community!

If you want to belong, love! Care! Do something for people! A few years ago a woman wrote, “Please pray for me. I am a patient in a mental hospital, and sometimes am not rational.” We did pray for her, earnestly. A year or so later she wrote again to say, “Thanks for your prayers. I am completely well, and am back home with my family. And I can remember the very day that I began to improve. I was sitting watching another woman patient when all of a sudden I felt a great pity for her, and said to myself, ‘I wonder what I could do to help her.’ From the very day that I began to think of the needs of someone else, I began to improve.” You know very well that from that day forward she also had a sense of “belonging.”

It all depends upon our attitudes. We receive according to the way we give. Albert Payson Terhune was a favorite writer of mine in days gone by. He wrote some great stories about dogs, especially collies. I’ll never forget the account he wrote of a Great Dane, owned by a friend. This was a huge dog, tall and strong, but he and Terhune got along famously. Terhune would park his car at the friend’s house, walk up on the porch where the dog was lying in the sun, wool the big ears, pat him affectionately, and enter the house.

One year Terhune was overseas for several months, but on his return he went again to visit his friend. As usual, the Great Dane lay on the porch, sunning. Terhune gave him the customary attention, then went on into the house; the dog’s owner immediately asked, “How did you get by the dog?” Terhune replied, “Don’t you remember? We are old friends.” But his companion startled him by saying, “This isn’t the same dog. He died. This is a new one, and very vicious toward strangers.”

A wave of fear went over Terhune as he realized what he had done. He stepped over to the screen door to look again at the new dog, and as he did so, the huge beast made a vicious lunge against the door, nearly coming through. Terhune said it was his belief that when we humans are frightened, we give off a certain odor unnoticeable to us, but easily detected by animals. So when we are seized by fear, dogs immediately know it, and react accordingly. I have never managed to be comfortable when passing strange dogs on the street, and have often been threatened by them. But my son, even as a child had no fear of any dog. He would walk up to them, large or small, with fearless confidence, and was never bitten.

Perhaps Terhune was right in his theory. Be that as it may, we know that people respond to our attitudes. We get back what we send out; we reap as we sow. When we love, we are loved in return. When we hate, we are eventually hated. If we are critical, we are criticized. If we show hostility or distrust, it is given back to us. How much do we really want to belong to the fellowship of our church? Are we willing to pay the price?

CHAPTER 12 - Do You Have To Be First?

WE’VE BEEN talking about meekness, and how to belong to a group, how to fit in. This chapter is related to both ideas. All of us are aware of the conflict, which existed between the Samaritans and the Jews during the days of Jesus. The old-line, orthodox Jews had the upper hand in that period of history, even though they and the Samaritans had emerged from a common beginning in the long ago. Samaritans were not to be found holding membership in the Sanhedrin, or in any other Jerusalem council. The Jews rated the Samaritans as second-class citizens, despised them, persecuted, shunned, boycotted, and thoroughly hated them.

Have you ever been hated by someone who thought of himself as being vastly better and superior to you? It is hard to accept such hatred gracefully. Human nature wants to strike back to even the score. The Samaritans, generally speaking, did exactly that. When reviled, they reviled again; they met hatred with hatred, gave back as they received. So the feud between Jews and Samaritans dragged on from generation to generation, with the Jews always smugly sure that they, and they alone, were God’s chosen people—the true, undiluted, unadulterated lineage of Abraham. But in their certainty of an assured position before God, the Jews became careless and lost the heart out of their worship, the spirit out of their religion. Sacrifices continued to be offered on their altars, but the spiritual fires had been banked in the hearts of the people. Meanwhile, the conflict between Jew and Samaritan was intensified as the Jew centered his worship in Jerusalem, and the Samaritan centered his in Mount Gerizim.

Then Jesus came! And in his coming he dared to be different from both of them. In fact, the Master seemed almost immune to public opinion. He knew how the Samaritans hated the Jews; yet one day it was said of him, “he must needs go through Samaria.” He seemed to have no fear of being molested there. Soon he was in the city of Sychar, and then at Jacob’s Well; which had been attracting thirsty travelers for hundreds of years. It was there that the Master met “the woman of Samaria,” definitely a second-class person in the eyes of the Jews, and perhaps even in the eyes of other Samaritans; yet it was to her that Jesus chose to reveal one of Christianity’s most fundamental teachings.

That’s the way it was with Jesus. He often shared the choicest spiritual truths with the most unlikely or unpromising people. At a time when public opinion was always downgrading someone, Jesus refused to recognize the artificial distinctions, which men of ill will and prejudice are forever setting up. So it was to a woman of despised race and questionable reputation, a woman whose people were definitely rated second-class by their neighbors, that Jesus said, “God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth” (John 4:24). You wouldn’t ordinarily expect first-class truth to be revealed to second-class citizens, or first-class redemption to be offered to a person with a form of godliness but devoid of spiritual life; but this is what Jesus did. There seemed to be about him no race consciousness at all.

One of the greatest spiritual lessons he ever presented came with the story of the Good Samaritan. Even the term would have been obnoxious to the Jews of his day. You know the story…how a man on a journey was attacked by thugs, who robbed and beat him, stole his clothing, and left him by the roadside half dead. A priest came by, supposedly a first-class citizen, an official representative of God, but he did absolutely nothing to assist the dying man. Then came a Levite, also an important person in Jewish religious life. He stopped, looked, then went his way. Third, came a Samaritan, according to the Jews a second-class citizen. Seeing the sorely wounded man he stopped, applied bandages, took him to a place where he could be cared for, paid the bill, and said he would pay more if services required it. Isn’t it strange how often we read of “second-class” citizens performing first-class deeds while “first-class” citizens were doing nothing?

Most of the populace probably would have rated Jesus’ disciples as second-class persons. Peter and John were once described as “unlearned and ignorant” men; yet they managed to confound some of the learned “first-class” doctors of the Law with irrefutable truth and logic. How, many times the Lord has used the lowly to confound the mighty. The important thing in life is not how men classify us, but what God thinks of us. In his parables, Jesus often lifted second-class persons into first-class positions carrying first-class rewards. Take Lazarus, the beggar, for example. He finally found rest in the bosom of Abraham, while the rich man who had denied him food “lifted up his eyes in hell, being in torment.” And how often have second-class citizens shown first-class appreciations! Jesus once healed ten lepers, but only one returned to give him thanks, “and he was a Samaritan” (Luke 17:16). Definitely a member of the second team, he conducted himself as a first-class person.

Aren’t we sometimes apt to confuse position with greatness? Yet it is easy for conniving men to arrive at high office with souls that are empty, to be elevated to positions of authority, while totally lacking the spirit of greatness. Jesus criticized social climbers, position-seekers, people who fought for the high seats of prominence and authority. He bade us to seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness; then he made of himself an example of humility by washing the feet of his disciples. He was King of kings and Lord of lords; yet he took upon himself the form of a servant and became obedient to death, even death on a cross, that he might provide for us both salvation and an example. Christ, a strictly first-class citizen of heaven, took a second-place position in order to teach us the true meaning of greatness. In Matthew 23:12 we read, “He that shall humble himself shall be exalted.” The ways of the world are not the ways of God, nor are the opinions of worldly men the opinions of God.

Then why should we be embarrassed or discouraged if today we find ourselves on the “second team”? There are men who found greatness on the second team, but lost it when they insisted on being first. It would appear that some of us are molded by nature to occupy supporting roles in the drama of life. I could name, and you would recall, two or three prominent television personalities who were outstandingly successful in supporting roles, but failed when, against all advice, they tried to move into top-stellar positions.

I remember a young man who made an excellent showing as assistant to the manager of a large store. Given a list of duties, he faithfully performed every task well and expeditiously. In fact, he was so good that the owner urged him to accept the manager’s job, so he moved into top place. But within six months he suffered a nervous breakdown. As second-place man, supporting the manager, he was great; but as top man he quickly worried himself into illness. Moved back again to the job of assistant, he recovered his health and again sparkled in the niche into which he fitted best.

Isn’t it true that our talents, training, personality, and brains often predetermine the kind and amount of work and responsibilities we can handle? Sometimes a shipping clerk can rise to become president of the company, but other shipping clerks may have to be content to remain just that, in which case they ought to determine to be the best shipping clerks possible. Both types of men are needed in every business and in every church. There are people who are at their best as vice-presidents. Some women were born to be first-class secretaries, and business could not be carried on without them. On an airplane, the navigator is as important as the pilot. In a church you must have, not only a pastor, but teachers, singers, trustees, clerks, ushers, a custodian, givers. All are important. So instead of being impatient over the station in life where our talents have landed us, shouldn’t we decide to do our best with what we have, right where we are? Let’s not be concerned with prestige or honor. Long ago I found and placed on our church bulletin board this sentence: “There is no limit to the amount of good one may do, if he doesn’t care who gets the praise.”

Andrew, one of Christ’s faithful disciples, was sometimes referred to as Simon Peter’s brother. Do you think this irked Andrew? I doubt it. He was probably glad to be Peter’s brother. An elderly minister who no longer has a charge of his own said the other day, “I enjoy substituting for the various pastors around me when they must be absent from their pulpits.” I asked a shop worker recently about his job, and he said, “I was hired just to take the place of men who are off sick or on vacation. I have to be able to handle every job in the shop.” He was a substitute, a good one, and proud of it.

Well, don’t we need substitutes? Doesn’t somebody have to occupy second place? I remember the time, years ago, when I had to come to terms in a very realistic way with my own limitations. In many ways nature had fitted me for second place. I could sing, but not as well as many of my friends could sing. I could speak, but there were others who were far more effective on the platform. I was an athlete of fair ability, but was invariably beaten in the semifinals. So I faced up to facts, admitted to myself that I would never be a great singer, another John Wesley, or a cup-winning athlete. But in the local YMCA, where I had played tournament handball for years, I was asked to instruct a class of beginners in the game. One young, slender redhead showed exceptional promise, learned quickly, and I gave him special attention. Within two years he could beat his teacher at the game, and in a few more years he became state single’s champion.

I couldn’t become a champion, but I trained one. He got the medal but I helped prepare him for it. This experience taught me a good lesson. I said, “Well, if I can’t be a Billy Graham, or a John Wesley, or a George Whitefield, I’ll be the best preacher I can, and then along the way I’ll try to help and inspire some young man to achieve a greatness which is beyond me.” Into every drama of life supporting roles must be written; and without them, the play would lose interest. What would happen to the rich man’s Cadillac if there were no trained, skilled mechanics to keep it tuned and running smoothly? What would happen to the star of the opera, were it not for the chorus, or the stagehands? What would happen to commercial aviation if it were not for the men in the control towers? All of the astronauts who have circled the earth would have remained grounded had it not been for the thousands of engineers, scientists, and clerks who worked so hard and faithfully to make their flights possible.

So, let’s take off our hats to the members of the second team, members of the supporting cast. What would we do without them? Hats off to the men who built the chapel as well as the man who designed it. Hats off to every member of the congregation as well as to the orator in the pulpit. Hats off to the printer as well as to the author of the latest best seller, for, where would one be, without the other? Hats off to the farmer who raises the food as well as to the internationally famous chef who prepares it for the great ones of earth. Hats off to the teacher who inspired that brilliant young man to reach for the stars. The race is not always to the swift, as the story of the tortoise and the hare illustrates so well. Sometimes direction is more important than speed.

Long ago, Absalom, King David’s son, was slain in battle while attempting to wrest the throne from his father. Before the results of the conflict were clearly known, a runner by the name of Ahimaaz begged to run to David with a report. Joab, chief of the army, said, “Wherefore wilt thou run, my son, seeing thou hast no tidings ready?” (2 Sam. 18:22). But Ahimaaz insisted, “Let me run.” So Joab gave permission, and off he went. Another runner, Cushi, was finally given the official message to carry to the king, but Ahimaaz outran him and arrived first. However, when David, to whom he reported, inquired for particulars of the battle, Ahimaaz was forced to admit, “I saw great tumult, but I knew not what it was” (vs. 29). He was a great runner, but had nothing to say when he arrived. Cushi ran second, but he had the news. The race of life is not always to the swift. The rewards go to those who have something worthwhile to say, some worthy work to do.

When Loren Young was heading the Southeastern Division of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes, he said to a group of young people, “The most important relay race I ever ran was one we lost. No one thought we would lose. Our team had the experience, the stamina, and the speed. Our lead-off man, was the top best, the fastest of us all. We counted on him to gain an edge at the very first; then we would maintain it and seek to gain further advantages. So away our leader spurted, and swung into the lead almost at once. And then, for some strange reason, he stumbled and fell, cutting his leg badly. For one stunned moment he lay there in pain; then he sprang to his feet and continued the race. But now he was hopelessly outdistanced; yet he ran as one inspired, although with every stride blood dropped to the track:” His sheer courage inspired his teammates so that one after another, each man in turn gave his best. Slowly they began to gain on their opponents, “foot by foot”, yard by yard. It was apparent to all that they couldn’t possibly win; yet never had they run as they were running now. And when the race was at last finished, the last runner was just one step behind the winner. They had lost the race, but had won the admiration of the crowd, for the mass of humanity arose as one person to cheer and clap their hands. Young thought they were applauding the winners, but it turned out that the thunderous ovation was not for the winners, but for the team which had placed second, because these losers had shown the kind of spirit which refuses to quit, even when the odds are all on the other side.

Maybe you can’t always come in first, but when this is the case, run your top best anyhow. Run in a way to deserve your self-respect and merit the respect of those looking on. Others may run faster, but if you do your top best, isn’t this the important thing? Not everyone can be an Apostle Paul, but all of us can be Christians worthy of the name. We are not bound to be first; we are only bound to be faithful and true. You may not have ten talents, or even five, but you can invest the one or two you do have so conscientiously that at the last day the Lord will say, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant.” This will be worth it all! So don’t despair if you were not named captain of the team, or even if you didn’t make the first team at all. Just do your very best and leave the rest in the hands of God. God expects no more from any man. You will have your reward.