The Righteous Way Priorities

“But strive for greater gifts. And I will show you a still more excellent way.”

St. Paul (1 Cor 12:31)

Whether we intend to or not, we prioritize our life with our actions. We choose to put our energy in place by way of organizing or procrastinating. We may prioritize leisure over work or instant gratification over compound interests. Priority comes in many different ways and you can hear a million ways to organize it.

The Righteous Way includes organizing not just our energy and effort but aligning it to give our life true meaning and direction. We are made for great things but not because we will it or we take cues from what the world offers us – but because of what our Creator wills for us.

When we align our will with the Father’s, life gains a clarity you can’t get anywhere else. To live a righteous life means to get our priorities straight.

First, it lies with making our relationship to the Triune God of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit paramount. Without being connected to this reality and knowing and trusting where He will take us, our work and direction can become lost. By being connected, “we can do all things in Christ who empowers us,” Philippians 4:13.

Second, and I’m having a debate on placement between two and three, is ourselves, The Ore. Not to be inward-looking and selfish but to recognize that we can’t give what we don’t have. It’s important to allow ourselves to be instruments that need to be sharpened for the love and work ahead. We need to be formed and purposed so we can figure out what is being asked of us in any given season of life. Love, discipline, and skill can wane or grow over our life by the choices we make. How are we going to let our Ore be formed along the way?

Third, The Vocation. Not to be confused with little “v” vocation as the job or career we take but big “V” vocation for what our true calling is. We’re all born single, most will be called to another state of life. A refined call of the heart, a great mission and task that requires more than the work you put down after you clock out. It’s your identity. Most are called into marriage – to love their spouse and if God willing, raise babies. Others are specialized with a unique draw – priesthood, religious life, and the refined singlehood of consecrated virginity. All of these require love, joy, commitment, service, death to self, community, perseverance, and grit.

Fourth, The Labor is the work we do – our careers that fund our life and giving. Some people are unbelievably blessed with talents and clear direction for their labor. Others have to walk a hard road to find it. Some make great money but feel desolate on the inside. Others have hearts overflowing from their labor but struggle to put food on the table. This part of our life takes up most of our clock as we trade time for money, usually 40-60 hours a week. Because of this often times, this becomes our life. Our priority. We put everything that is above on this list, below this priority. It’s easy too. I’ve done it myself. Our work is important, especially if you’re a provider but if it’s out of internal priority it will wreck your life. When it’s guided correctly, it can do immense good.

Lastly, The Leisure in your life has a unique stature – as Aristotle said, “The end of labor is leisure.” We want to enjoy life, we’re not just donkeys at a grindstone destined to slave our way to retirement, then and only then, will we truly enjoy. No, that isn’t it. Life is an adventure and it’s important to break, rest, and explore. This isn’t last on the list because it shouldn’t exist for us but because after the above, our leisure can recharge us for the above. The tale of caution should be told, a life of leisure as a top priority can lead to a life out of sorts. It can steal and rob us of fruits only the others can provide and the tricky part is, it feels great while doing it. Balance and temperance are key.

This is the way;) The next few Climbs will explore each of the five in more depth. I’d love to hear your thoughts, how would you place these?

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Fire – A Shorty

Sour black smoke bellowed into the air and carried harshly into the woods beyond the homestead’s clearing. The frontier cabin popped and crackled in the heat, interior flames not yet escaping.

Jean-Pierre wiped his hands off with a handkerchief as the home burned behind him. The owner’s voices silenced from asphyxiation after being locked in were just a momentary embellishment. Vive la France.

The Frenchmen and his posse were finishing up their mission for the crown, the second of the day — the eighth of the week. A compatriot fired a salvo of Mohawk arrows into the front door. Another couple into the window sill, with intended precision.

Jean-Pierre thought about his family walking away from the growing blaze. This was for New France. They would be something here. This new start would fix his family tree for the next generations. Blood on his hands meant food in his children’s. The British were just expendable to this cause. Everyone was.

He took his spare tomahawk and lobbed it into the wagon’s side quarter panel. His eye was caught just above his splintered intended target to see a little dolly in the wagon.

Jean-Pierre didn’t recall seeing a little girl in the carnage. Did someone get away?

“Philippe, did you see a girl?”

“Non, pourquoi?” answered Philippe.

Jean-Pierre held the doll up with a stern face.

“Captain Jean-Pierre! Captain!” One of the younger compatriots ran from the woods screaming frantically and waving his arms, difficult to see but it looked like he had blood across his face. The Seasoned One, a veteran of the frontier took an arrow from his quiver and set it to sail into the young man’s chest. He never liked the garçon and now he was giving up their position in dramatic flair, it only seemed right to The Seasoned One. It wasn’t the first time he made such a decision but it would be his last.

The rest of the compatriots lowered and listened, forming a parameter around the front clearing. Each one quietly checked their muskets and powder. They’re here. Zut.

This band of irregular calamities didn’t need the escaped girl to give them away. While she was rescued, the Mohawk war band had been in pursuit with intent to kill. Not only was the British bounty lucrative, but the French were also playing games and causing scandal with their legacy. That itself was enough.

The Frenchmen thought they were clever but they would pay for their work. The flames began to break through the roof of the frontier home.

Silently, with only the sound of the landing arrows and cracking skulls, the first two compatriots were felled. Jean-Pierre shouted a command but it was too late for the planned course. Eyes set on the tree line, they didn’t see the four Mohawk warriors who had been stealthily working through the grass for the past thirty minutes to position the ambush. Before the Frenchmen could react to the assailants it was indeed over before a musket shot was fired.

The little British colonial would be brought to safety and placed with a new family. The Mohawks would be paid handsomely for their bravery. The French would pay dearly for their trouble in the region but not without drawing blood.

This was the frontier in the New World. Brutal and rugged. Competitive and dangerous. Old versus new. Life’s formative measures spawn the seeds of progress at the expense of another’s life’s formative measures. The war was not yet ready to begin but it was coming soon enough. The land was too small for all the competitors – in the end, the blood of the coming French and Indian War and the subsequent Seven Years’ War, would pave the way for Independence from all crowns.

Time Out: Ukraine

“Since it is so likely that children will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and heroic courage.”

C.S. Lewis

There are big motions in the world right now – it’s not business as usual. Maybe you’ve been glued, maybe you’ve been indifferent, or tuned out but it’s worth taking a time out to assess what is happening on the world stage because it’s going to impact you if you haven’t felt it already.

History is being played out in the war in Ukraine, it’s not a sideshow. The implications are very real, lives are being lost in dramatic despair, prices are rising, and the risk of greater escalation is an accident or bad decision away. 

 Pray. Pray for the souls lost and will be lost. Pray for peace. Pray for the consecration of Russia. Pray that good people do the right thing. 

Volatile events serve as a reminder that anything can change in a flash. It is best to secure all of your fronts. The world is changing rapidly, have you considered how a volatile environment impacts your family, finances, the people you serve, and your labor prospects? Be aware and stay on your toes.

It’s not a time for fear but a time for prudence. 

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Nein. – A Shorty

June 30, 1934

It was a damp and dark night in Hamburg, the air especially heavy. The Sauberzweig home, tense.

Otto paced in front of the hearth, pipe in mouth, Hamburg gazette underarm. His lips, held the end of the pipe tight, like a Rottweiler who’d found his favorite bone. A few rounds of fresh and fragrant tobacco had already been expended — room cloudy and full.

Otto’s stern expression wore consternation and complexity. Frieda sat at the desk, writing with clarity to her sister in Düsseldorf.

They didn’t have much time.

Perhaps less time than they thought.

A knock on the door.

The Sauberzweig’s both stopped and looked at the door in the parlor, eyes ablaze.

Just four hours earlier, retired General Otto Sauberzweig marched into the Schutzstaffel headquarters in full regalia to protest the unlawful and treasonous murders the night before in Wiesse. Word travels fast underground. Germany hasn’t been right since Wilhelm, but it is fast becoming unrecognizable. Vicious.

Otto looked at Frieda, Frieda looked at Otto. Another, but more firm knock.

Otto took another puff of the pipe and walked slowly to the door and unlocked the bolts.

“Guten abend General. I hope you don’t mind our stopping by so late,” a young but strong man with a crisp brown shirt led a posse of four Sturmabteilung officers. “Do you mind if we step in?”

“Nein.” Otto coldly replied with one arm across the door.

“I see.” The lad let a slow smile grow on his face, eyes locked to Otto’s. “You see General, I’m here to pay an unofficial visit this evening and thought we could sit down as countrymen and talk. Perhaps Frau Sauberzweig could join us?”

“Nein.” Otto’s reply, was more firm than the last. This time, blowing a puff of smoke forward, into the face of the young lad, who didn’t break his gaze or smile. The young man’s face held a soft glow from the interior lights but the other three who stood behind were silhouettes in the night. They said nothing but stood at ease, unflinching.

The young officer stood a moment, staring at Otto, saving face — with the exception of a new fire in his eyes.

“General I must insist we speak, out here is fine enough for the moment.” Otto kept his gaze, only using his lips to readjust the pipe in his mouth. “I understand you stopped by headquarters today to express your, grievances. I must say, leadership finds your lack of confidence,” the lads blue eyes tightened, “abrasive.”

Otto’s face was dark from being backlit but his inhale drew oxygen through his pipe and illuminated the embers to draw a deep red glow across his Prussian mustache and fierce coal eyes.

“The lads and I are here to bring you,” while trying to peer over his shoulder, “and dear Frau the opportunity to change your mind.”

“Progress is being made General. We could use men of your talent to serve this great nation again. Your reputation proceeds you, and we can certainly never forget the sacrifices you once gave. But. Now is the time to serve again. An evil is growing in this country and our leader is fighting for us, for a New Germany. One we can all be proud of,” the lad’s voice grew with excitement as if for the first time he had some hope. Otto stood firmly, one hand on his waist, hidden back as his jacket hungover, the other placed across the doorway.

“General, doesn’t it bother you to see our nation slave to the world and ruined by rich rats?” Otto caught a glimpse of a subtle movement of the guard to the left as he adjusted his hands to grip a baton. “The tide is turning. You will need to determine if you are on the side of progress or on the side of decay.”

A veteran of the Great War, a proud Prussian, General Otto Sauberzweig led many brave men into hell. He saw countless dead and dying. Otto inhaled again, a fierce highlight of his eyes wiped the smile off the young officer’s face. The moment sat in the air. The silence deafening.

Another movement yet out of complete sight by the guard directly behind the led officer.

“So General, I ask, will you join me down to headquarters where we can clear up this little misunderstanding?”

A long still pause.

Otto had seen what this new progress had to offer, what it promised. Progress doesn’t necessarily mean goodness.

“Nein.”

The young blonde officer, still eye locked, snapped his fingers and the other three quickly drew their batons. Within a second, a rapid draw and fire of a seasoned Luger P08, hid nicely from Otto’s hip, dropped all four Brown Shirts upon the approach. 

Frieda had taken a position in the side yard, Geweher 98 carefully aimed across the hood of the getaway car, just in case. Now that the guests have retired for the night, it was time to enact their planned escape to the free world —perhaps a little sooner than expected.

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The “Night of the Long Knives” and its implication of Hitler’s rise can be explored with a couple of the quick links below. The story above is just a fiction, but there were many who did resist the Nazis, too few albeit.

https://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/the-night-of-the-long-knives

https://allthatsinteresting.com/sturmabteilung-brownshirts