The Way Forward: Honesty

The Way Forward:  Honesty

2 Kings 12:4-16

I want to tell you a baseball story this morning.  It’s an unusual story because it doesn't involve any big-name stars or any major league teams.  No…this is a story about kids who were just starting to play the game. The story appeared a few years ago in Sports Illustrated.

The game was played in Wellington, Florida.  Late in the game, a seven-year-old first baseman, Tanner Munsey, fielded a ground ball and tried to tag a runner going from first to second base.  The umpire, Laura Benson, called the runner out, but young Tanner immediately ran to her side and said, "Ma'am, I didn't tag the runner." (Who does that, right, except an honest seven-year-old?).  The umpire, Laura Benson reversed herself and sent the runner to second base. (Who does that, right, except one of those reluctant umpires who likely was recruited from the crowd just before game time?) Tanner’s coach gave Tanner the game ball, in honor of his honesty.  (One more time, who does that, right, except some coach who just doesn’t understand the ultimate value of winning?)

Let me put it this way.  Three people of integrity met on that baseball diamond that day.  They all rose to the moment and became their better selves.  They did the right thing, each one in their own turn.

Two weeks later, Laura Benson was again the umpire.  This game, Tanner was playing shortstop,  because, when you’re seven, you want to try out all the positions. Then, came another close play. This time Benson ruled that Tanner had missed the tag on a runner going to third base, and she called the runner safe. Tanner looked at Benson and, without saying a word, tossed the ball to the catcher and returned to his position. Benson, though, sensed something was wrong. 

"Did you tag the runner?" she asked Tanner.

His reply: "Yes."

Benson then called the runner out. The opposing coach  protested immediately at an increasing volume until the umpire  explained what had happened two weeks earlier. "If a kid is that honest," she said, "I have to give him the benefit of the doubt. Besides, you remember this game is supposed to be for the kids, right?”

I wonder, is Tanner still as honest now as he was when was seven?  Will he be as honest when he’s thirty-seven?  You consider Laura Benson, the umpire, and you wonder whether she is still “teaching” such important lessons, whether she’s umpiring or not?  You think about those coaches.  Were they able to hold on to the notion that maybe they could teach at least as much about being a person as they taught about how to be a shortstop? Don’t you think we need more Tanner Munsey's in our world?

In our text for this morning, we turn to ancient days under the rule of King Joash, who ruled in Judah for nearly 40 years and was known for being a good ruler.  (If you take a little inventory in the Old Testament and hunt for “good kings” you’re going to be hard pressed to find more than a handful of such leaders.  Joash was one of those men.)

When Joash assumed the throne, he took a look around and saw how dilapidated the Temple had become.  He thought to himself, “We’ve got to do something about this!”  He thought about this and decided to put the priests of the temple in charge of new mortar and bricks and new roof beams and flooring—the structural work that needed to happen to make sure the temple was passed in good shape to the next generation.

The text tells us that 23 years later, we would have been hard pressed to find anything that had been updated or improved.  The priests had the money directed to them by the King to make structural changes but they kept spending the money on what our text calls “liturgical extras:”  fancy chalices, gold and silver plating for the walls, trumpets, candle snuffers.  The king was smart enough to have the funds carefully tracked.  That wasn’t the issue.  The issue was that they were buying the wrong things.  They weren’t getting the work done that needed to be done.

After 23 years, Joash wised up.  He took all those funds that had been directed to the priests that kept getting turned into fancy decorations and he hired real workers instead, craftsman who could look at a building and see what needed to happen.  Joash never had those men audited because they were honest men.  It didn’t take long to see that those honest men knew what it meant to do an honest day’s work.  The good king was smart enough to stay out of the honest men’s way.

Of course, we could take a cynical turn and tell the story of a seven-year-old baseball player who had been taught to cheat, or the umpire who was on a power trip, or the coaches who cared about nothing more than winning.  Those people do exist.  We all know that.  We’ve all see such people with our own eyes.

We could tell the story or a corrupt king or of priests who just outright steal the money rather than just spending it on the wrong stuff.  We could gather all the stories of all the workers we’ve been around who were anything but honest and may not have ever done an honest day’s work in their lives.

We could make such stories be our focus.  If we do, we will not only find ourselves discouraged but, perhaps even worse, we will discourage the people around us, as well.  If we say to one another, “People are just looking to get away with things, just looking to lie and cheat and steal,” not only will that we be what we see—because that’s what we’re looking for—but it was also boil down to giving each other a license to do the same:  “Well, maybe I’m just a dope if I’m honest.  Maybe having a sense of integrity just makes me a chump.”

You can be Tanner Munsey and do the right thing and run into an umpire who really doesn’t care.  You can do the right thing and be honest and get benched by your coach for doing it.  The reason to do the right thing, to be honest, to have some sense of integrity, to do an honest days work is never going to be so that you can get the game ball or the promotion at work or the undying respect of everyone around you.  That almost never happens in this world.  No, the only reason to be honest and live with some integrity is because at the end of the day you will be able to live with yourself.  The only reason to do an honest days work is because you care.

In our survey of the threads in the tapestry that is the Union Church, I really believe that two of the essential threads of this place are honesty and integrity.  I’ll tell you a story that I hope will help make the point…

On work trips, our job is make something better in someone’s life.  From the first step on to a potential work site, the question is what’s the problem with this house and what can we do about it.  We don’t have unlimited money.  We don’t have unlimited skills or time.  Is this a project that we can take on, plan out, piece together and get done—all in a few days?  Those are the kinds of concerns that keep work trip leaders up at night, especially if we are stretching our skills and our resources to try to make something special happen.

Several years ago, we met a family in dire need of help.  Two grandparents had assumed custody of their drug addicted daughter’s children in order to keep the kids out of the foster care system.  They built essentially a prefabbed outbuilding that had no running water, very little space, and the bare minimum of comfort.  Literally, I could hear the voice in my head screaming, “Help these people!”  The question was, “Realistically, what can we do?”

“Well, for one thing, some outdoor living space would help.”  We planned and built a deck that changed the footprint of their living space.  The deck was a big hit with the family.

“Well, they really ought to have running water.”  As some of you may remember, this turned into an enormous challenge in which I ended up having sometimes daily conversations with the local well-digger…and his wife…and whoever else would pick up the phone.  And, of course, the well ended up needing to be dug far deeper than anyone expected and cost way more than we had planned.  (What are you going to do…stop digging?) And yet, thanks to the generous support of lots of people, their home had running water.

All of which led to the idea that they probably should have a toilet and a shower, too.  Which I had to say, “We can’t do!” Which turned into an opportunity for some local contractors and realtors who caught wind of the situation to say, “You know what…we can!”  They did!  That family has a working bathroom.

Here’s the moment I was most proud of for us, though.  There was a possibility that some loft space in that home might be able to be a bedroom space which definitely would have helped.  However, try as we might, there was no way that we could get windows to fit that would be up to code so that they could be used as an exit if there was a fire.  I vividly remember the culminating discussion. I watched some really fine people come to the consensus that we weren’t there to “fudge” the code or to beak the rules.  We were there to make sure that those children were safe.  If they couldn’t safely get out of that space in an emergency then they shouldn’t be sleeping there.  Sometimes, doing the right thing means saying, “No, we can’t do this.” An honest discussion led to the right conclusion.

The Union Church has always been a place of integrity.  We can do some things.  Many things are beyond our reach.  When we take something on, we will work hard at it and pool our skills and do an honest day’s work.  We will put our heads together and do the best we can to come to an honest conclusion about how to proceed.  Everyone is invited to join the conversation.

What is true?  What is the right thing to do?  When is it the right choice to do nothing at all?  You can’t begin to have those conversations without first being a community that values honesty.

Mark Hindman