We who are strong ought to bear with the failings of the
weak and not to please ourselves. 2 Each of us should please our neighbors for their
good, to build them up. 3 For
even Christ did not please himself but, as it is written: “The insults of those
who insult you have fallen on me.”[a] 4 For everything that was
written in the past was written to teach us, so that through the endurance
taught in the Scriptures and the encouragement they provide we might have hope.
Romans 15:1-7
I knew it had to happen. For 18 months, the "robot"
creature in the backyard grew to gigantic proportions. While it could be hidden
inside a tent or a tarp, I didn't mind so much. It was Allen's project and it
kept him occupied. But when the thing outgrew its tent, I knew we were in for
trouble.
To no one but Allen would the jumble of aluminum cans, metal
pieces, wooden pallets, and wheels resemble a robot. I saw a pile of junk; he
saw a creation that would one day move and function. Anytime I was tempted to
complain, I reminded myself of just what the project meant to Allen.
Our neighbors were not as understanding. Notes were shoved under
my door demanding the demise of the monstrosity. One woman loudly complained
that I was a “terrible mother” to allow my son his collection of
Frankenstein-esque parts.
It became clear that to maintain harmony with my neighbors, the
Giant Robot would have to go.
Honestly, I don’t always agree with what my neighbors do, either.
I get tired of the little dog that barks anytime I get out of my car, and the
kids in the back who jump on their trampoline at all hours of the night. But in
Romans 15:1-7, the Apostle Paul encourages us to “please our neighbors”,
particularly those of us who are mature Christians.
Let’s take a moment and think back to the time of Jesus. The
leaders of the nation of Israel were instructed to serve the people and protect
the helpless, but they failed miserably in their mission. Obviously, their own
mission did not coincide with God’s. Jesus rebuked those who abused their
power. In Matthew 23:2-4, Jesus says, “The teachers of the law and the Pharisees
sit in Moses’ seat. 3 So you must be careful to do everything they
tell you. But do not do what they do, for they do not practice what they
preach. 4 They tie up heavy,
cumbersome loads and put them on other people’s shoulders, but they themselves
are not willing to lift a finger to move them.”
Ouch. Strong words from God’s Son, who was
clear what His own mission on earth was. Jesus wanted His disciples to use
their power to serve others. In Mark 10:44-45, He told them that they must
serve others, not themselves.
Allen had been clear in his own mission.
It began in April of 2015 when Ron was hospitalized—again—with clinical
depression and heart issues. Coincidentally, Allen had just been diagnosed with
Asperger’s Syndrome. While my son began job training with Occupational
Vocational Rehabilitation, he was not allowed to work. And my kids, all three
of them, are workaholics. Allen had time on his hands. I did not. With Ron in
the hospital for six weeks, and me working three jobs, Allen was left to his
own devices. Enter the Mission to Build a Giant Robot.
According to SAMHSA (2016), adults on the autism spectrum disorder
tend to be introverted and often look for ways to self-medicate in order to
avoid a sense of anxiety and stress. While genetics play a part in ASD, a
chemical imbalance in the brain contributes to developmental delays and
problems with thought-processing and neural stimulation. 7.9 million Americans
with a mental disorder self-medicate with drugs or alcohol.
I did not want Allen to be one of them. While he went for
job-training and dealt with physical and mental testing requirements, he built
his robot. I bought a bigger tent.
Alas, one Sunday afternoon we took the Giant Robot down piece by
piece and hauled it away to the junk yard in a rental truck from Home Depot.
For the sake of our mission to win our neighbors to Christ, the robot had to
go. Its own scrappy mission—keeping Allen occupied-- was over.
Accept one another, Paul advises us in Romans 15:7. I might wish
that my neighbors and those who encounter Allen might recognize the uniqueness
that lies beneath his quirks. I might wish that the poster of Romans 12:18 that
hung in my long-ago college dormitory room would hang in everyone’s home.
I can only, as much as possible, live at peace with everyone.
And have Allen confine his robot projects to the basement.
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