As Bowen looked out over the village of tents that had served as his happy home all his life, he marveled that things could change so quickly.
Bowen used to be a respected member of his community. He was the kind of man everyone could depend on. He was honest, he was kind, and he was always ready to help his neighbors. For decades, his tribe had been a nomadic group, never staying in one place for more than a few weeks, but before Bowen was born, they had found a beautiful, fertile spot next to a river at the foot of a mountain and they decided to stop traveling and settle down. By the time Bowen was a man, roads had been worn between the homes. The townspeople had built structures for the livestock, a building for town meetings, and a school for the children. But even though no one showed any sign of striking camp any time soon, they all still lived in tents.
It’s not like the tribe had met together and decided they wanted to stay in tents forever, it’s just that no one had ever started building a house. Bowen decided that should change. He didn’t know how to build a house. He didn’t even have much of a frame of reference, but with some trial and error, he knew he could build something. So he started.
Almost immediately, a crowd of children gathered to watch. As days passed and Bowen struggled to build a proper foundation, a few adults joined the clump of onlookers. Soon, it became a community-wide pastime. Men would stop by and watch for a time on their way to and from the fields. Children would play nearby, throwing rocks and kicking dirt at each other. Every few minutes, they would glance over to see what Bowen was doing now. Everyone, it seemed, took the time to come by and see the hare-brained project but they said very little. Bowen never asked for help and no one offered any.
Until, one day, a man named Vernig stopped by. Vernig was well-known in the community. He considered himself one of the “village fathers”. Bowen didn’t really know what that meant. He wasn’t sure what Vernig did for a living or what he had accomplished in his imagined position of importance. But as Vernig put his hand on Bowen’s shoulder, he assured him, “I’m here to help.”
Vernig told Bowen he knew a few things about construction. He had, he confessed, consulted on the building of the town meeting house and he kindly promised Bowen that he would be by the next morning to “lend my expertise to your monumental project”. True to his word, he was there early the next day, a heavy tool bag in his hand and a look of proud confidence on his face. As he approached, Bowen glanced at Vernig. Vernig stood dramatically, stroking his chin as he gazed at the framework of the house that was beginning to take shape. He frowned as his eyes passed over the structure.
Bowen was not confident that Vernig actually intended to help, so he turned back to his work. After weeks of work, Bowen was nearing completion of the frame for the structure’s outer walls, and he didn’t want Vernig to slow him down. About an hour later, Bowen had put the finishing touches on the framing of what would become the back of the house and decided to take a well-deserved break. He turned to face the front of the house and was shocked by what he saw.
The door frame was gone. The boards that had formed it lay in a pile on the ground. All across the front of the structure, he saw holes where boards and beams were missing from their proper places. Vernig looked at Bowen and smiled. He held up a measuring tape and a level.
“I’ve discovered a few discrepancies. The door frame was a mess, really. You’ll need to start over entirely. I also took out some other boards that were not measured properly.” He pointed to one section. “This part here was all crooked. It’s a fortunate thing I’m here, I suppose. I can tell this is your first time building a house.” He smiled and gave a polite little self-assured laugh.
For a few minutes, Bowen stared. He could hardly believe his eyes. He had spent weeks on this structure. He knew it was far from perfect, but he had been proud of what he had built so far. He was confident that it would hold, that it would be sturdy and well-built enough to serve him well. And now, Vernig was tearing it apart, finding minor flaws and removing each one.
Bowen composed himself. His voice was clipped, but he tried not to sound too upset as he told Vernig, “Thank you very much for the help, but I can plan to handle it from here.”
Vernig looked confused.
“But, I really should…”
“No, thank you. I will take it from here.”
That night, back in his tent, Bowen cried bitterly. He was unsure how long it would take to rebuild, but he had lost what looked like close to a week’s work. Vernig claimed he was only trying to help, but the damage he had done discouraged Bowen more deeply than he could express. Still, tomorrow was another day. Bowen knew he could get beyond even this. But doubts began to nag at his brain. Maybe Vernig was right. Maybe the door frame was all wrong. Maybe Bowen’s work was not as sturdy as he thought.
The next day, Bowen returned to the work. His enthusiasm had waned, but he was still determined. When he reached the worksite, his jaw dropped. Vernig was there, measuring, pulling out nails, and throwing boards aside. Very little was left of the wooden structure Bowen had so lovingly constructed. Anger burned in his eyes as he confronted Vernig.
“Don’t you see what you’re doing! I have worked for weeks to build this and you’re tearing it to the ground! You say you’re here to help? I’ll tell you what you can do to help! You can leave and never let me see your face again!”
Vernig glared back at Bowen. He scoffed bitterly and addressed the crowd gathered to watch, “This is how some people say thank you.” He walked away without another look at Bowen or the house.
Bowen sat down on a nearby rock and looked at what was left of his project. His motivation was gone. He felt that he lacked the strength to stand. The crowd slowly dispersed. Finally, there was no one but Bowen and a few children engaged in a dirt-kicking competition. Bowen finally found the strength to rise. He made a few half-hearted attempts at building but found he just didn’t have the heart for it.
Finally, he gave up and went home. He thought about giving up the project entirely. He slept very little that night. The house had seemed like such a good idea when he started. It had felt like a noble cause, a worthy dream. And now, he felt foolish to have even attempted such a daring project. Had he been childish? Had Vernig simply revealed that this had been an immature endeavor from the beginning?
The next day, when Bowen woke, he lay still, staring up at the roof of his tent. In his mind, he saw the image of the ruined frame of his house. It seemed to mock him, but then he closed his eyes and saw another image, the image that had inspired him to begin the project – an image of the house completed. A surge of confidence animated him. He would not give up. He still had a foundation to work with. He would not let Vernig stop him. He would do whatever it took, work until the project was done.
But that day, as Bowen approached the site, he was floored. The one thing that had remained intact – the building’s foundation was in pieces. Bricks lay in disorderly stacks in the grass around the building and Vernig sat with his back to Bowen, surveying his handiwork with satisfaction. Bowen’s knees felt weak, but anger animated him and he ran at Vernig, surprising him and knocking him to the ground with a blow from behind. The townspeople were quick to react and pull Bowen off Vernig before he could land more than a few blows.
After Bowen spent a day in jail, Vernig dropped the charges. By then, Vernig and other onlookers had made it clear that they considered Bowen’s project a mistake, a danger to the community, and a threat to the safety of their children. What little remained of the project stayed untouched. It became an unofficial playground.
Vernig was lauded as a hero for his actions while Bowen’s name became a byword. In the end, Bowen left the town in search of a new place to live – a new home. Bowen didn’t what where he might go or what he might do, but he knew one thing for sure – he would never again try such an ambitious project.
One of my favorite animated characters of all time is the food critic Anton Ego in the Pixar movie Ratatouille. He’s a hard-hearted food critic who has a change of heart over the course of the movie and he has this to say about the easy rut into which critics like him can fall: “In many ways, the work of a critic is easy. We risk very little, yet enjoy a position over those who offer up their work and their selves to our judgment. We thrive on negative criticism, which is fun to write and to read. But the bitter truth we critics must face is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk is probably more meaningful than our criticism designating it so.”
When we are not the ones building, it costs nothing to point out a crooked beam, a flawed door frame, or an uneven paint job. It’s easy to expose the flaws in what other people are doing. It gives us a chance to parade our own superior knowledge, assuring the world that we would never do it that way.
Ephesians 4:29 warns us: “Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which is good to the use of edifying, that it may minister grace unto the hearers.”
Edifying – that means building. With our words, are we building or are we tearing down?
With online reviews and comments sections, it seems that these days we all fancy ourselves critics. We remark on a meal’s lack of quality when we eat out. We pick apart the plot when we watch a new movie. We point out the foolishness of some new product we see advertised on TV. Our critiques make us feel important. We feel like experts as we sit in comfort and pick apart the hard work of others.
But there is a more specific trend that is far more concerning to me than the time we waste critiquing the blood, sweat, and tears of the secular world.
It seems that Christians, more than ever before, are intent on tearing each other down. We learn of what others are doing in the name of Jesus and we look for the reasons it can be criticized. Someone writes a new Christian book and immediately, an army of blogs give lists of reasons the new book is a waste of time. The tweets and comments that professing Christians aim at each other are staggeringly hateful. It seems like we’re looking for reasons to dismiss what others are doing in the name of Christ. Every time we hear about something new being built, we’re tempted run out to expose all the reasons we think it will never last. It’s human nature to want to say and hear negative things about other people. Negative criticism is the fuel behind celebrity magazines, reality TV shows, and much of the online content we consume.
But Christians ought to be distinctly different. James tells us, “Speak not evil one of another, brethren.” (James 4:11)
Sometimes people are wrong and someone needs to confront the error. There are well-known figures who spread falsehood under the guise of Christianity. There are books that claim to be Christian but are distinctly unbiblical. But there is a difference between being discerning and being critical. Galatians 6 says there’s a specific demeanor that should mark us, even when we confront error.
“Brethren, if a man be overtaken in a fault, ye which are spiritual, restore such an one in the spirit of meekness; considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted.” (Galatians 6:1)
How many of our critiques could be fairly characterized as exhibiting the spirit of meekness?
The ruins of Bowen’s house should serve as a warning to us all. Critical Christians are a dangerous breed. Each Christian is designed by God to be involved in building for Jesus. If you’re engaged in His work, your critiques will likely be fewer and they will much more readily be marked by meekness and a true desire to help. If you’re simply sitting back and watching others do the work, be warned. You may wake up one day to find that you have actually been engaged in tearing it down.
I want to provide what is probably an unnecessary disclaimer. The story I told in this episode is fictional. You could choose to call it a fable or a parable – it’s a story invented for the purpose of expressing a spiritual truth.
Exempla 