Broken Walls

Broken Walls January 19, 2015

This is the first in a series of blogs on the life of Nehemiah – a man whose  approach to work, motivation and leadership fascinate me. Not only was he a Jew living in an alien culture, but he had also worked his way to the very top of his career. Throughout, he walked closely with God.

Nehemiah had an important job. He was cupbearer to King Artaxerxes of Syria, responsible for ensuring the king’s safety, and a trusted servant. But he was also a foreigner working in an alien culture, as a Jew caught up in the exile from his homeland.

One day, Nehemiah had a visit from his brother and some other men from Judah. Keen for news from home, he asked his brother how the ‘Jewish remnant that had survived the exile’ were getting on (Nehemiah 1:2). In particular, he asked about Jerusalem. The visitors’ answer left Nehemiah devastated: ‘Those who survived the exile and are back in the province are in great trouble and disgrace. The wall of Jerusalem is broken down, and its gates have been burned with fire’ (1:3).  The people were clearly in trouble because the walls of their city lay broken and in ruins, leaving them exposed to attack. In itself, of course, the wall was important to keep the residents of the city physically safe. But Nehemiah knew that the broken walls of Jerusalem were also a symbol of his people’s spiritual disgrace, of their sin in turning away from God and of God’s punishment in allowing His people to be taken into exile. What are the broken walls of our schools and colleges?

Nehemiah tells us that he wept, not just initially, but for days. He cried, fasted and prayed to God. But this wasn’t about self pity, nor did he give the problem to God to solve. He didn’t even talk to God about the physical problem or its practical solution. Instead, he looked beyond the stones of the derelict wall to the reason for the brokenness. He confessed the sin of his people that had led to the walls lying so badly broken for so long: ‘I confess the sins we Israelites, including myself and my father’s family, have committed against you. We have acted very wickedly toward you. We have not obeyed the commands, decrees and laws you gave your servant Moses’ (1:6-7).

Our schools often display the outcomes of our fallen human state. Dishonest financial dealings, false data, blame cultures, bullying and self-seeking ambition define work practices. Salacious gossip, boasting, conspicuous consumption and one-upmanship define social interaction. Maybe sometimes we go home from work feeling polluted. We are glad to give our anxiety and distress to God. But Nehemiah didn’t do that. He went straight to the root of the problem and confessed the sin of his people on their behalf. Have we ever confessed the sin of those with whom we work?

Nehemiah didn’t give the burden of his people’s distress to God. Instead, he prayed about it until it became his distress, too. He prayed until, after four months of mourning and tears, he couldn’t just ask God to act; he had to do something about it himself. When we pray for our learning communities, do we ask God to work into each situation, or do we pray about them until we can’t do anything else but act ourselves?

Although Nehemiah mourned for months, he didn’t leave it there because he was a man of faith and action. He knew that God had allowed his people to live with the outworking of their sin, but he also knew that God had promised to redeem His people (vv8—9). So in his prayer, he claimed that promise and prepared to step out in faith: ‘Give you servant success today by granting him favour in the presence of this man,’ (v10). He knew that whatever he needed to do, his employer was going to need to give him permission to do it. And he knew that the impulse to show the way of redemption to his people was becoming so compelling that he couldn’t keep it to himself for much longer. Have we prayed for our learning spaces to the point where our impulse to act is breaking out of our prayers and into a plan of action?

 Next  Nehemiah post: Forming a plan of action

(A version of this blog first appeared on the website of Transform Work UK.) 

 

 


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