Go First

On New Year's Day, 1812, John Adams sat down at his desk in Quincy, Massachusetts, and wrote a short letter to a man he hadn't spoken to in more than a decade.

The man was Thomas Jefferson.

They had once been as close as two men could be. They served together in the Continental Congress, sat on the committee that produced the Declaration of Independence, and later spent time together in Paris, where Jefferson became something like family to the Adamses. Then politics got in the way. The election of 1800 was brutal. Adams lost to Jefferson, and each man felt betrayed by the other. On inauguration morning, Adams caught a 4 a.m. stagecoach out of Washington rather than watch his old friend take the oath. Then came eleven years of silence.

It took a friend to break it. Dr. Benjamin Rush, who had signed the Declaration alongside both men, wrote Adams in 1809 describing a dream he'd had. In it, Adams wrote to Jefferson, the two renewed their friendship, and they went to their graves at nearly the same time. Rush kept nudging both men for two more years. Finally, Adams picked up his pen.

Jefferson answered within weeks. Over the next fourteen years, they exchanged more than 150 letters about faith, philosophy, aging, grandchildren, and the country they had built together. It became some of the richest correspondence in American history.

Then, on July 4, 1826, fifty years to the day after the Declaration was adopted, both men died. Jefferson went first, at Monticello. Hours later in Quincy, not knowing his friend was already gone, Adams reportedly spoke his final words: "Thomas Jefferson survives."

Rush's dream came true. But imagine if Adams had kept waiting for Jefferson to go first.

"So if you are presenting a sacrifice at the alter in the Temple and you suddenly remember that someone has something..." (Matthew 5: 1-2) 

When relationships are strained, they distract us from being our whole selves. When life isn't settled at home, it's hard to muster my full attention at work. When my marriage isn't steady, neither is my mind. When my kids and I are not in harmony, part of me isn't present anywhere else. I can sit in a meeting, nod at the right times, and still be somewhere else entirely, replaying a conversation from the night before and rehearsing what I should have said. When there's strife between me and someone else, I'm not my whole self. I'm a divided man trying to look present.

My job deserves my best. The people I work alongside deserve my best. Even more so, God does. Jesus puts the relationship before the offering. Before the worship. Before the work. Leave the gift sitting right there, and go.

First, notice the word "remember." Jesus isn't telling us to go digging through every relationship looking for offense, anxious over every little slight. It's about what the Spirit brings to mind. When you're standing at the altar, or sitting at your desk, or pulling into the parking lot, and a face comes to mind, pay attention. That's not a distraction. That's an assignment. Take immediate action.

Second, Jesus doesn't mention the other person. He doesn't say go if they were mostly at fault, or go once they apologize. He says you go. The mark of a Godly man or woman is being willing to set their own rights aside and simply obey. Take responsibility, not offense.

Third, go without the blame. Choose an attitude that places no blame on the person you've been at odds with. That's the hard part. It's easy to walk into a reconciliation carrying a scorecard. Real reconciliation leaves the scorecard at the door.

And finally, after all that, comes the gift. An unhindered offering. That's what I want. Not worship offered with a divided heart. Not a workday given by half a man. A whole heart, nothing standing in the way.

Adams and Jefferson got fourteen years back because one of them was willing to go first. None of us knows how many years, or days, we have. Don't wait for the other person to make the first move. Go first.