There Remaineth Yet Very Much

According to an ancient anecdote usually attributed to the historian Plutarch, a young Alexander the Great would weep profusely whenever he heard of his father’s latest military triumph. When asked why he wept, the prince reportedly said that he wept because he was worried that by the time he grew up, “there would be no more worlds left to conquer.”

If that anecdote is true, then it is perfectly understandable why Alexander would go on to become one of the most successful military generals in history. His weeping is a window into his mind. Before his death at the age of 32, Alexander had built an empire as large as the continental United States without any of the technological advantages of modern warfare. His empire was so vast that after his death, it was divided into four parts. If, as the poet Wordsworth mused, the child is the father of the man, then what Alexander accomplished as a man is perfectly understandable given how he thought as a child.

But even if that anecdote is not true, it touches something everlastingly true in each of us. Although the Bible commands us in Romans 12:15 to “rejoice with them who rejoice and weep with them weep,” I have observed that we tend to display the opposite trait. We tend to rejoice when others weep and weep when other rejoice. It is not easy to celebrate the victories of others—especially if we think that their victory somehow diminishes our capacity to win as well.

Unfortunately, most of us see life as a zero sum game. A zero sum game is a game in which there can only be one winner. A zero sum game is a game in which no wealth is created or destroyed. Hence, I win, you lose. Zero sum games are a key element of what Stephen Covey calls scarcity thinking—the mindset that there is only so much money, only so much opportunity, or only so many blessings. This is why so many of us weep when we learn of other people’s success. We fear that their success will translate into our failure. We fear that we will be left out, that we will miss out, or that God will run out of blessings.

If my co-worker gets promoted before I do, then I won’t. And you won’t—if there’s only one promotion.

If my cousin gets married before I do, then I won’t. And you won’t—if there’s only one eligible bachelor or bachelorette.

If my best friend buys a house before I do, then I won’t. And you won’t—if there’s only one house.

But there is always more! I remember hearing the old saints sing a song in my childhood:

I'm living on the mountain, underneath a cloudless sky I'm drinking at the fountain that never shall run dry; I'm feasting on the manna from a bountiful supply,  For I am dwelling in Beulah Land.

This is essentially what God was trying to tell Joshua. Toward the end of a lifetime of fighting and winning, God announces to Moses’ protege in Joshua 13:1 that although he is “old and stricken with years, there remaineth yet very much land to be possessed.” If you consider the construction of that sentence, it is needlessly repetitive. An adjective (much) is modified by two adverbs (yet and very). God could have simply said, “there is more land.” And if you read this verse in other, more modern translations, the excess adjectives are culled. The landscape is flattened. The horizon is shortened. But this is one instance where the majestic and sweeping beauty of the King James version of the scriptures delights my soul.

There Remaineth Yet Very Much.

Whatever you need, there remaineth yet very much.

Whatever you desire, there remaineth yet very much.

Whoever has been blessed before you, there remaineth yet very much.

There remaineth much land, much opportunity, much potential, much love and much joy.

God’s Bank Of Blessings has not filed for bankruptcy.

And it never will.