The Kingdom of God is a Tool Box

“Many things get done in the world because someone had a vision of something better.” Herbert O’Driscoll

I love learning. I never tire of reading. When something breaks at home, I delight in trying to figure out what’s wrong so that I can fix it or, if I’m lucky, it’s broken beyond repair and I get to replace it with something new and improved. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy pinching pennies until Lincoln cries, “Uncle,” but it doesn’t bother me to get something that, most generally, works better than what broke.

I’ll confess I am sometimes embarrassed by how little I know about something, or about how long it took me to discover what someone else (or everyone else) has presumably known from the git-go. For instance, I was always flummoxed by how terribly my drill functioned as a screwdriver. I mean, I have various bits for it, and it seems to do fine for the most part, but then it barumphs [sic] and ruins the head of a screw. I never knew why until Earl, my carpenter friend in Ennis explained something I’d not realized: a drill is designed for drilling; what I need to use is an impact driver. The two tools may look similar, but each serves a different function; each is designed to handle different situations.

In the past I would have been too embarrassed to admit this intellectual short-coming. I would have counted it as a character defect. I’m a guy. Guys are supposed to know things about cars and tools, carpentry, sports, and stuff like that. I’d lived much of my life by Mark Twain’s maxim: Better to keep one’s mouth closed and thought a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.

I am beginning to think that shame is the leading cause of all the world’s woes. When children grow up and are ridiculed for not knowing stuff, they often learn to shut down and stop asking questions. Children have a reputation for being innocents, but often they are cruel, intolerant bullies. Many of the people I have known and counseled continue to live under a cloud of childhood events and traumas. It’s no wonder many grow up to be intolerant, fearful, and shame-filled souls in need of healing, safety, and security.

Jesus spent most of his time teaching and healing. He called his vision “the kingdom of God.” He didn’t define it as much as he described it with stories and images almost anyone can relate to. I may not be a farmer, but I understand the concept of things starting off small (like seeds) and growing into something big (like a shade-tree or a jar of French’s Mustard). I may not be a fisherman, but I understand the importance of repairing a net so that it will catch fish. 

Having had a child run away from home, I understand the relief and joy of having that child come home. Having lost a cherished gift and finding it again in a puddle of melted snow, I understand the joy and relief of finding that which was lost. Having had a terrible argument with someone I love, and the fear of losing them forever, and having that relationship restored by forgiving them (and being forgiven), and amending uncharitable attitudes or deeds, I have seen how forgiveness can lead to peace and reconciliation.

None of us is perfect, of course; only God is perfect. I still lose things. I’m still hurt by unkind remarks or the neglect of those who ought to know better. But this talk of the kingdom of God – this vision – allows me to see the world differently. It allows me to plead ignorance so that others can help me understand what I’m missing or neglecting. It opens my eyes to the possibility that God may have other ways of dealing with matters. 

The kingdom of God is a tool box into which we add tools as God provides them. We need only know not every tool fits every circumstance; we need only be humble enough to ask others what might help here in this, our valley. To mend a life, you see, is to amend life.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)