“A little leaven leavens the whole lump of dough” (Galatians 5:9).
Take care of the little things.
In art, the difference between mediocre and masterful is often attention to details.
In wartime, attention to the little things can mean surviving.
I wonder if Goliath thought something like this in that millisecond before he expired: “This cannot be happening. A giant like me, a champion of warriors, massive and mighty, undaunted and undefeated–taken down by a kid with a rock in a sling.” He must have thought, “I hope my brothers never hear about this.”
Up in your state penitentiary you will find quite a number of good guys, people with impressive credentials and strong convictions and good records of achievement. But mixed in with their outstanding accomplishments was the leaven: a single habit they could not control, a friendship out of bounds, a secret vice, a weakness.
At this moment, the Christian community is discussing a prominent pastor for whom the world was his oyster, as the saying goes. He was a star among the ministerial heavens. He built a great church, wrote popular books, was in demand for every program and conference. And now, look at him. Felled by such a little thing. No one is more shocked than he. “How could this be?” he’s wondering at this moment.
Who am I talking about? Which preacher with what problem? Take your pick. There are so many to choose from.
I’ve been reading “In Your Face: Cartoonist at Work” by Doug Marlette, the Pulitzer-Prize winning artist for newspapers such as the Charlotte Observer, the Atlanta Constitution-Journal, and Newsday. At the time he did editorial cartoons for these papers, he was also turning out “Kudzu,” a syndicated daily strip with wide distribution. He published many books and received all the awards and accolades a cartoonist could hope for.
Doug Marlette was younger than me and should still be around doing what he did so well, satirizing our foibles and turning out books about Will B. Dunn, the cartoon preacher. His clippings adorned refrigerators and professors’ doors far and wide. Marlette, who would have turned 65 later this year, would probably still be with us except for one little thing.
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