Forty years ago the police serial Hill Street Blues premiered. Every opening scene was the briefing room where Sgt. Esterhaus would inform all the police officers of the most wanted, the evening’s crimes, and so forth. As he dismissed them to their cruisers, he would regain their attention by concluding, “Hey… let’s be careful out there.”
“Let’s be careful out there.” It should be said by doctors at births; it should be repeated by ministers at baptisms; it should be heard at the beginning of each new day. When we receive or send an important parcel, what does it say: “Fragile: Handle With Care.” When a child is crossing the street or a loved one gets into a car, we say, “Be careful.” When the same car goes down the highway, the driver sees a sign that says “Pass With Care.”
Adlai Stevenson said, “Be careful about the advice you give.” Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. wrote: “Be careful what you pretend to be, for you are what you pretend to be.” Mark Twain quipped: “Be careful about reading health books; you may die of a misprint.” The apostle Paul wrote to the church at Ephesus: “Be careful how you live, not as unwise people but as wise, making the most of the time, because the days are evil.”
There is a children’s song that sings: “Oh, be careful little hands what you do: Oh, be careful little hands what you do; for the Father up above, is looking down in love, so be careful little hands what you do.” As the lyrics continue, feet, eyes and ears all get the same warning.
And remember this: It is wise to also be careful when we ask Jesus to be part of our lives.
University chaplain Will Willimon tells of a young woman who responded to the claim of Jesus on her life. He had received a call from a very upset father who said emphatically, “I hold you personally responsible for this!” The parent was inconsolable because his daughter, bound for graduate school, had just informed him that she was going to “throw it all away,” and go to do mission work in Haiti.
“Isn’t that absurd!” shouted the father. “A Bachelor of Science degree in mechanical engineering from Duke University and she’s going to dig ditches in Haiti!”
“Well,” replied Willimon, “I doubt that she’s received much training in the Engineering Department for that kind of work, but she’s a fast learner and will probably get the hang of ditch-digging in a few weeks.”
“Look,” said the father, “this is no laughing matter. You are completely irresponsible to have encouraged her to do this. It’s your fault!”
“Me? What have I done?” “You, you ingratiated yourself with her, filled her head with all that religion stuff. She likes you, that’s why she’s doing this foolishness,” he said.
“Now look, buster,” Willimon said, struggling to keep his ministerial composure. “Weren’t you the one who had her baptized?”
“Why, yes,” he confessed. “And then, didn’t you read her bible stories, take her to Sunday School, and let her go with the Presbyterian Youth Fellowship to ski in Vail?”
“Well, yes, but…” “Don’t you ‘but’ me,” I said. “It’s your fault that she believed all that stuff, that she’s gone and thrown it all away on Jesus, not mine. You’re the one who introduced her to Jesus, not me!”
“But all we ever wanted her to be was a Presbyterian,” he said, meekly.
“Sorry. You weren’t careful; you made her a follower of Christ.”
Be careful then how you live; God may just take you up on your desires.
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