This Leads to That

Obadiah 15

There is a principle in Eastern thought that reads, “This leads to that”—in other words, everything we say or do brings resultant consequences. There is no such thing as a deed done in a vacuum or a word spoken that will not effect someone or something—everything that happens will effect and affect us, someone else, and things around us. The principle, though, is not alien to our faith praxis—it is, in fact, biblical! One of the most stubborn aphorisms bandied about in church is “Reap what you sow.” St. Paul used it as an admonition to his congregations to be utterly mindful as they formed their communities—what they said and did would carry consequences for them, would determine how the wider world received them, and would influence how seriously the message of Christ would be taken by those hearing it. The Apostle, though, was repeating something from his own training in faith, for centuries earlier, the prophet Obadiah used the same thought as he sought to correct the people before him, helping them become attuned to the presence of God—this leads to that—judgment comes from disobedience; salvation comes from obedience—this leads to that.

Now, we have probably all heard similar thoughts from our parents, teachers, and other guides as we grew into who we are. The reality of consequences is one of the most basic pieces of wisdom we will ever encounter. As parents, it is something we try to instill in our children as early as possible. We hope to keep them from harm; we hope to help them avoid the mistakes that will leave scars; we privately hope we can keep them from making the same mistakes that we did. 

Isn’t it interesting how often we use the negative implications of this leads to that? We do so because the bad outcomes hurt—sometimes literally—a child deciding to see if she can replicate Spiderman’s feats from this summer’s movie by swinging from the roof from a ball of twine needs to know it will hurt when it fails. Sometimes it happens more figuratively—a guy realizes only after the fact that trying to remain in a toxic relationship unnecessarily blows up all sorts of goodness in life—that his friends were on to something when they kept telling him he needed to look elsewhere. He now hurts inside—deeply.

These are not bad or wrong applications of Obadiah’s wisdom, but they are not exhaustive in how to use the prophetic teaching. We also need to consider the positive implications of this leads to that.

This move invites us to walk with Christ.

First, consider his admonition to love others as you love yourself. To be able to accomplish this brings wonderful consequences. For one thing, we will find it easier to negotiate human relationships, interactions, and encounters. For instance, if I maintain focus on my household responsibilities, I lay a foundation for a more peaceful home. As I try to love the people with whom I live as Christ loves them, if I eat a snack in front of the TV, I will clean up my mess. That, in turn, will lead to a happier feel when everyone else joins me for the ball game, and, very quietly, I let them know that I respect them. 

I know that sounds nearly banal in its basic ordinariness, but it is in the most ordinary contexts that we find the most powerful examples of this leading to that in following Christ. How we live with those whom we love creates the atmosphere for the home in which we live. So, mindfully tuning into what we are doing there bears fruit.

Now take that into the world. The more open we are to the needs and presence of others, the more able we are to find peace with them. Realizing that what we say and do will impact them, then we can adjust how we think, leading to helping what we are saying and doing to create a more harmonious context. If you question this idea, simply look to the NBA this week and the imbroglio involving the owner of the Los Angeles Clippers—he apparently thought himself removed from having to care about how he spoke about his employees on the court, most of whom are African-American. He found himself banned for life after creating a context that made everybody more than uncomfortable, forcing everyone to deal with the truly reprehensible. Awareness of his place, his players, and the outcomes would have spared him and us grief. 

Now consider Christ’s admonition to empty oneself to find oneself, or its parallel, to gain one’s life, lose it. Applying this admonition to our way within the world bears many kinds of fruit. Our culture’s fixation on self leads to all sorts of consequences that we reap daily—the persistence of poverty, the struggles of our educational system, the commercialization of nearly everything, and the loss of a deep sense of community all flow from an existential self-centeredness that drives our world. So, take Christ to heart and see what blossoms. As he met someone, as he entered an activity, as he prayed—his first question was not, “What do I get out of this?,” but rather “What can I offer this person/these people?” As we apply that thinking to our lives, strange things can happen. We can find life richer, more meaningful, and more full than we imagined. Fear, doubt, and despair fall away. Insecurity, desensitization, and apathy wilt. We become more a piece of the world, and we will certainly feel far more attuned to the presence of God.

But this leads to that.

That thought needs to lay before us always. The Torah demands that the faithful literally mount the Law on their doorposts and keep its symbols on their person at all times. Most of us have a refrigerator full of the reminders, daily quips, and useful wisdom we hope to guide us—well, place some Word up there! Take the presence of God into yourself however it need be done. Allow Obadiah to form our patient consideration before acting or speaking. Think through outcomes. Think through consequences. Look before you leap, sang many a wise grandma to grandchildren everywhere.

This leads to that.