My husband John and I used to love mowing our lawn. I don’t know why. Maybe because it was outside in the wide green world and it gave us a break from kid duty. These days, not so much. (note: in place of the grass in this picture, the other day we got snow 😬)
Our front yard is a steep hill that is ankle twisting and we have a tree that seems to take sadistic glee in throwing down small branches like grenades to block our path so we have to stop multiple times to clear the minefield.
Anyway, I was mowing the lawn the other day, thinking John would probably hear and come out to relieve me at some point. It’s possible I may have speculated about a way to turn up the volume on the mower, or considered “accidentally” ramming it into the side of the house so John would know how sacrificially I was serving him!
But he didn’t seem to notice, and didn’t come out. Eventually I realized I was going to have to do the whole thing. And I started tallying my scorecard.
You know what I mean. When you start making a list in your head all the things you’ve done for your spouse or your friend, versus what he (or she) has done for you to decide if it’s even-Steven or if you should be ticked that you’ve done more to sacrifice/serve/go out of your way for them than they have for you.
Who’s on your scorecard? Your spouse? A sibling? A friend or colleague?
As I thought about it, John was way ahead on this particular day. He had done laundry, made up the guest room bed, and sat on hold for many minutes trying to sort out our insurance because our car was stolen. Hmmm….He “wins” this round.
Then I thought, “What if God kept score like I do?” The good, the bad, what I do (ostensibly) for Him, what I do for myself… It would never balance out.
Fortunate the person against whom the Lord does not keep score.
Romans 4:7 msg
Acts 10:29 says Jesus, filled with power and the Holy Spirit “went around doing good…” Not because He wanted to draw attention to Himself, or because the people He came across were so deserving, or because He wanted to balance out a scorecard.
Grace spoils us rotten. We don’t do math in our family, but even I know it doesn’t add up.
The secret to my parents’ marriage seems to be their ability to out-serve each other. They don’t keep score. My dad is inordinately patient, waiting for my mom in the car outside church, grocery stores, clothing shops, farm stands… when she doesn’t deserve it.
And my mom accommodates my dad’s picky eating habits, making him a special side salad with the homemade thousand island dressing, or a separate casserole without onions, zucchini, or mushrooms when he doesn’t deserve it.
Grace promotes grace. The more aware we are of the lavish love of God, the more we desire to serve Him. When I feel spoiled by John, when he serves me, I want to serve him.
But what if for now, I tear up the score card, put my head down and focus on blessing John, praying for him as I push the mower through the minefield of my self-centeredness?
