The Gentle Ones (Phil 4:4-7)

A Parable

Once upon a time there lived a vibrant animal community in a large meadow that supplied all the creatures’ needs. Life was pleasant and easy. Until one summer when there fell upon the meadow a terrible drought. For weeks there was not a drop of rain. Every day the sun bore down relentlessly on the meadow with a withering heat. A rumor began to circulate among the animals. The Sun must be upset with them. It must be punishing them. Why else would it beat down on them continually without letting any rain fall?

Soon the animals turned on each other. They began blaming the Sun’s displeasure on one group of animals after another.

First they blamed the reptiles: the lizards and the snakes. Surely it was their difference—their creepy, scaly skin—that the Sun didn’t like. The reptiles responded hotly. Their eyes flared up and they spit out venomous threats against anyone who spoke against them. They became known as “the angry ones.”

Next the animals turned on the foxes. They were so crafty and cunning, surely the Sun didn’t like them. In response to this accusation, the foxes bore a heavy grudge against the other animals. They decided that the real problem was a lack of appreciation for their foxy ways, and so they resolved to get more foxes into seats of power in the meadow’s government. There they would be able to impose their superior ways on the rest of the animal community. These foxes became known as “the resentful ones.”

Next the animals turned on the sheep. They could be so stubborn sometimes; maybe the Sun was upset with them most of all. The sheep responded by hanging their heads low and wandering off to sulk by themselves. They stewed in their self-pity and became known as “the pouting ones.”

Last of all, the animals blamed the moles, the voles, and other small rodents. They could be sneaky, you know; maybe the Sun was unhappy with them. In response to this accusation, these little creatures chittered about in terror and scurried off to hide underground. They became known as “the fearful ones.”

All the while, the drought continued. Then one day a band of joyous otters were spotted swimming upstream in the river that ran through the middle of the meadow. All the meadow animals—steeped in their fear and anger, in their resentment and self-pity—turned against these strangers. Surely they were the cause of the drought. The Sun must have seen them swimming through and taken a disliking to their exuberant ways. It was trying to teach them a lesson.

What happened next, however, was most surprising. The otters seemed completely unfazed. They did not react with fear or anger. On the contrary, they continued to play about joyfully in the water, sharing fish with the others when they caught them, offering children of other animals to ride on their backs and to enjoy the cool spray of the water, singing songs while they relaxed under the shade of big, leafy trees. These strange otters became known as “the gentle ones.”

Gradually the other animals became curious about these “gentle ones.” They lived with such a different—and if truth be told, attractive—spirit, even in this drought. How could they live this way? When the other animals asked the otters why they were so different, they smiled and responded: “Every day is a gift from our Creator, who loves us so much. And who loves you too, just as much. The sun is not angry with us. It is one of the Creator’s good gifts, just like the rain. These gifts come and go, but we don’t worry because the Creator loves us and gives us everything we need. Even now, if we only care for each other as the Creator cares for us, there is enough for everyone.”

A deep quiet followed this response, until finally the eldest otter broke the silence and said, “Listen to your breathing. That is the Creator’s breath: the Creator breathing in you. The Creator is always near. The One who breathed life into you waits to breathe his Spirit into you as well. All you have to do is open the door of your heart and make room. This One will give you all that you need.”

In the weeks that followed, the drought continued. But some of the meadow animals began to live with the otters, “the gentle ones,” and slowly these animals changed. No longer did they see the sun as an angry god. Instead they saw the Creator’s fingerprints all around them, and they gave as freely as they received. They became more joyful, more peaceful—more gentle.

Just as Much a Spectacle

According to the book of Acts, the Holy Spirit made a real spectacle out of the Christ-followers who were gathered together in Jerusalem on that first Pentecost. There was a heavy gust of wind that swept over them, a fiery luminescence glowed above their heads, and they began speaking in other languages, so that all of the Jewish pilgrims in Jerusalem—this was in the middle of a pilgrimage harvest festival, after all, known as the Feast of Weeks—all of these Jewish pilgrims heard the gospel proclaimed in their native language.  By all accounts, that first Pentecost was quite a wondrous and surprising event.

I have to be honest: I’ve never experienced anything remotely like this in my own faith journey. There was a time when I was disturbed by the fact I hadn’t had an encounter like this. Did this mean I didn’t have the Holy Spirit? Was I not a true Christian? Indeed, there are some Christians today who have turned the biblical account of that first Pentecost into something of a litmus test for faith. The idea is that if your faith experience is not “Pentecostal”—if it doesn’t bear the marks of that first spectacular Pentecost—then it is lacking or incomplete.

But as I read today’s scripture in Philippians, I realize I’m not alone in missing out on that original Pentecost experience. Neither Paul nor the Christ-followers in Philippi to whom he writes were at the original Pentecost. They do not encounter and start following Christ until later. Granted, Paul’s first encounter with the Spirit of Christ is quite a spectacle itself: a blinding light, a disembodied voice, something like scales later falling from his eyes. But we do not hear about anything like this for the Christ-followers in Philippi. I would imagine that many of them come to Christ as you or I did—quietly, with the fireworks taking place not above our heads but somewhere deep within our hearts.

But is it really fair to say that the Spirit has made less a spectacle of people like us than it did of the first Christians? As I read today’s scripture, I think not. The Spirit can make just as much a spectacle of people like you and me.

“Be Known as the Gentle Ones”

4   Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.  5 Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. 6 Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. 7 And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

In the heart of a prison, Paul writes with a most surprising attitude: “Rejoice, rejoice!” he urges his fellow Christ-followers. He reminds them that God is near, and that prayer—talking and listening to God—will give them something even better than understanding; it will give them peace.

But what jumped out to me this week as I read this famous text for the umpteenth time is that little line: “Let your gentleness be known to everyone.” It is a curious expression, if you think about it. Paul is not simply saying, “Be gentle to others.” Surely that is what he desires, but his invitation goes further than a simple exhortation to “be gentle.” What he is really saying is something like, “Make gentleness your reputation before all people. Let yourselves be known as the gentle ones.” To be known for one’s gentleness would require much more than ticking off a box (“There! I did my gentle deed for the day…”); it implies sustained, rigorous habits of behavior. Reputation is not built on a good deed here, a good deed there, but on a way of living. This really caught my attention, because truth be told, I’m afraid that many people do not look upon Christians as “the gentle ones.” They look upon Christians and see instead resentment or anger or fear. I don’t say this as an indictment on Christianity or our fellow Christians. I see it as a simple truth that many Christians—likely including ourselves, in some ways—have yet to be converted to the way of Christ.

Think for a moment about the people in your life whom you would call “the gentle ones.”

I think of a handful of teachers (including some Sunday School teachers); I think of a few nurses and workers who serve in assisted living facilities; I think of communities of support for people with intellectual disabilities and for people recovering from addiction. And truth be told, most of these people I’m thinking of are in fact followers of Christ. Their faith has led them to assume the gentle “mindset” or “attitude of Christ” (Phil 2:5); it has led them gradually onto that path of downward mobility that Paul sings about in Philippians 2 (Phil 2:6-11).

Maya Angelou once said, “I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” Her words strike on the hard gospel truth that the way of Christ is less about getting it right and more about treating others right, that the way of Christ is less about being in control and more about caring for others and ourselves. What distinguishes a follower of Christ is not just the proclamation they make, but even more the spirit of gentleness in which they live. “You will know them by their fruits,” Jesus says (Matt 7:15-20). You will know them by how they make you feel.

For that reason, I conclude that even if we do not speak in other languages, even if we do not have tongues of fire resting over our heads, even so the Spirit can make just as much a spectacle of us as it did of those first followers of Christ. For to be known as “the gentle ones” in our world, is indeed a most spectacular thing. A thing that turns heads. A thing that makes others curious, makes others ask, “What’s with those people?”

Many people in our troubled world are continually asking themselves and others around them, “How are we going to fix this mess?” The really odd thing about us Christ-followers—the thing that makes us stick out like a sore thumb—is the peace we have, the gentle spirit in which we can live. We’re not trying to figure it all out, because “in Christ, God has already made history come out right.” In Christ, we—and the world—have all we need.

Prayer

Gentle Christ,
Your way appears narrow and difficult
To the eyes of the world,
Yet you assure us
Your yoke is easy and burden light
…
May your Spirit of faith
Grant us peace,
So that we might live, like you,
As God’s gentle ones,
Ambassadors of God’s kingdom.
Amen.