I sat slumped over my desk at school. It was five thirty... maybe six, and I still wasn't finished with wrapping up my day. The piles of papers to grade always linger, the frustration grows as the time ticks away, and still I seem no closer to my goal of leaving than I did at four o'clock.
Finally I managed to gather my thoughts and I was frantically working, trying to beat the clock, beat my goal, and GO HOME. And then he walked in.
My custodian who LOVES to chat. He likes to have deep philosophical conversations about pretty much anything. Normally I'm up for this, but by the end of the day, the LAST thing I want to do is have these kinds of conversations. I'm exhausted and drained, and I know my thoughts aren't even logical... so why bother.
We said our hellos, and then we got to work... he was cleaning the board, I was typing my lesson plans. I looked up to see him considering the anchor chart I had on my wall about facts vs. opinions. Written below each definition, I included some examples. Under facts I had listed numbers, dates, history, science (can be proven). I remember writing it and disagreeing a little about history being a fact. The event is a fact, but the perspective the story is told from can change... but I decided these were fourth graders, and I could put it on there without running into too much trouble.
Suddenly, he turned around, rag in hand and announced that he disagreed. I was confused, until I saw that he was pointing back at the poster. I tried to hold back the philosophical discussion, but finally I caved.
And so it began. "You do realize that history is told from different perspectives?" Well of course. So we chatted for a while about the different spins on history: i.e. Japanese perspective of the dropping of the atomic bombs, Polish perspective of WWII, British perspective of the Revolutionary War...
Then. "History is written from the perspective of the victor, you do realize that?."
Long after our conversation ended and he pushed his vacuum cleaner out of my room, the words lingered in the back of my mind.
Once I finally made it home, cleared the kitchen, and tuned back in... it was still there.
History is written from the perspective of the victor.
It came in the middle of pondering how people view me... of the constant pressure to compromise what I know to be true and right in order for people to like me better. To fit in better.
After reading the beginning verse of Psalm 37 about continuing to do good, dwell in faithfulness, and trust the Lord, despite what others are doing around me, I did some backwards thinking.
History is written from the perspective of the victor.
If I know the victor, then I know the perspective history will be written from. His. Ultimately, I know who wins: The Lord will triumph. Jesus says, "In this
world you will have trouble, but take heart; I have overcome the
world."- John 16:33
So if history will be written from His perspective, then why would I NOT live in such a way as to please Him now? When history is written from His perspective, I want to be on His side, living every day clearly on His side, not straddling the fence, waiting to see who wins. There is no question. So why am I questioning whose side I want to be on now?
Perhaps I've chosen my side. But there is always the constant temptation to deny my side. To pretend for a moment I'm in no-man's-land. Or even cross over to mock others, gossip, and complain with the other side. Just so they'll like me better.
When history is written, and the Lord looks back triumphantly... I don't want Him to see me cowering in a corner, afraid to stick out, denying him and blending in simply to be liked. I want to be seen as His faithful servant, sticking to His side regardless of how tough it gets, working for His approval, and not for man's.
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