I Finish Everything Except The Last Bit

Go and look at the four of them.

The shelves need one screw. The room needs the switch plate put back on. The cupboard needs the handle, which is in a bag, in the drawer, in the same room. The frame needs one coat on one edge.

Four jobs. Between them, about thirty five minutes of work.

And every one of them has been in that state for months, and if somebody asked you what is unfinished in this house you would say four things, and the true answer is thirty five minutes.

So the question is not why you do not finish things. You finish nearly all of everything. The question is what happens in the last inch, because that is the only place anything stops.

Here is what happens. While a thing is at ninety nine, it is in progress. It cannot be assessed, because it is not claiming to be anything yet. The moment the last screw goes in, it is finished, and a finished thing can be looked at and measured and found to be whatever it is.

That last inch is not a distance. It is a change of category, and the change is what stops you.

You are a woman standing an inch from finished, and stopping at the last small thing has never once been the same as not finishing anything.

Reaching forth unto those things which are before

There is a sentence in Philippians about a man in motion, and the verb in the middle of it is a physical one.

Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before. (Philippians 3:13, King James Version)

Reaching forth unto those things which are before.

Reaching forth is a straining word. It is the posture of somebody stretched out toward something not yet in their hand, leaning past where they currently are.

And notice how he opens. I count not myself to have apprehended. He starts by saying plainly that he has not arrived, and then keeps moving anyway, and there is no anxiety anywhere in that sentence about the gap.

You have a man who names the gap and keeps moving through it, and not having arrived has never once been a reason to stop reaching. Philippians 3:13 states the incompleteness first and reaches anyway, and the Holy Spirit is the one who makes that an ordinary posture rather than a heroic one.

And look at the middle clause, because it is the one that touches this row. Forgetting those things which are behind.

Behind is where the assessment lives. A finished thing goes behind you, and things behind you can be reviewed, and he does not review them. The direction of attention in that verse is entirely forward.

You were never asked to stand and look back at a finished thing, and a completed job has never once obliged anybody to turn around and grade it. The Spirit of God is the one who keeps a person facing the way they are going, and Philippians 3:13 puts the forgetting and the reaching in the same breath.

The last inch is a change of state

So here is the practical claim, and once it is named it is very hard to unsee.

Ninety nine is a safe number. A thing at ninety nine is protected by its own incompleteness. Nobody judges an unfinished shelf, including you, because the obvious answer to any criticism is that it is not done yet.

At a hundred, that protection is gone. The shelf is now a finished shelf and it is exactly as good as it is, permanently, and it will be in that room for years being exactly that.

You have a protection that costs a screw to give up, and stopping at ninety nine has never once been about the work that was left. Philippians 3:13 keeps the attention forward rather than on what has been completed, and the Holy Spirit is the one who makes the last inch survivable.

And here is the arithmetic that makes this worth an evening.

Four jobs at ninety nine is four rooms that are not finished. The house is not four jobs short. It is thirty five minutes short, and it has been thirty five minutes short since the spring.

You are thirty five minutes from four finished rooms, and a house has never once been as far from done as the number of unfinished things suggests. The Spirit of God is the one who puts a true measure in front of a woman, and the written word has a man reaching forward rather than counting what is behind.

And one more, and it is the mercy that makes the screw possible.

You were never going to have to defend any of them, and a finished thing in your own house has never once been submitted to anybody for assessment. Philippians 3:13 forgets what is behind rather than examining it, and the Holy Spirit is the one who makes the forgetting possible rather than demanding it.

The last small thing, on one job

Here is the assignment and it is the smallest one on this whole site.

Do the last small thing on one job tonight, whatever it is.

One job. Not four. Pick whichever last small thing is nearest and easiest, which is probably the switch plate or the handle.

You have one small thing available tonight that ends a job, and a screw has never once been a large amount of work to have been carrying for months. Philippians 3:13 reaches forth rather than staying where it is, and the Holy Spirit is the one in that room while something crosses from ninety nine to finished.

You have between two and nine minutes standing between that job and finished, and the last small thing has never once been the size of the wait it caused. That is the whole evening. Philippians 3:13 reaches forward rather than counting what is behind, and the Spirit of God is the one in that room while it gets done.

And then let the job be over. Do not stand and look at it afterward, because standing and looking is the assessment, and the assessment is exactly what the last inch has been protecting you from.

Put the screwdriver down and leave the room. Go and do something else entirely. The job is finished and it has not been graded and it does not need to be.

And if you find yourself wanting to do the second one, you may, and you may also not. One is the assignment and the rest is your business.