God allows us the most absurd liberalities. Flooding oxygen into the lungs of one who hoards much and gives little. Calling the sun to rise over one who has repeatedly dishonored His holy Name. Growing food for one who comes into Him throne room to complain. Pumping blood through the veins of one who won’t even acknowledge His existence.
If it were a man, it might make sense. I complain. You complain. We’ll both get over it, right? It’s just the way we are. But for a perfect, unerring God to put up with imperfect, oft-erring man? Well, it might have been easier if He’d just gotten Himself a dog. At least they know not to potty on the carpet.
And yet He will insist on offering us forgiveness. What illogical mercy! What startling pity! He makes such unheard-of allowances for us. It is near ridiculous the forbearance we get from Him. Any other god would have rejected us already. Any other god would have sent us straight to hell. Forget time out. Forget counting to ten. Any other god would have killed us on the spot. That’s the thing that surprises me most. That we’re not already dead.
I don’t understand God’s grace. I look at Job with his accusations and David with his adultery and Peter with his denial, and it seems to me that anyone else would have been thoroughly disgusted with these men. Demanding a courtroom trial with God as though He were human? Killing a woman’s husband so he won’t find out you got her pregnant? Standing in the same room as Jesus and swearing you’ve never met the man before? Really? If I ruled the world, I would have hung the whole lot of them. It’s what they deserve. So, how does God respond? By calling Job “My servant.” By saying of David that he was “a man after My own heart.” By telling Peter, “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build My church, and the gates of Hell will not overcome it.”
I don’t understand it. Why God would open the doors to welcome a murderer into His throne room. Why He would let a rapist into His Heaven. Why He would find pleasure in the praises of a drunk. Why He would speak to a pornography addict. Why He would listen to a single word from a selfish, disagreeable, vicious little fool. But He does. And I’m grateful.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Monday, March 7, 2011
A Very Little
Have you ever tried to get through an entire day - or even a couple hours in a day - facing each decision by asking yourself, “What would Jesus do?” and then acting according to what you sincerely believe? It’s a fascinating project. Slightly scary and potentially discouraging, but fascinating. It brings Jesus to the forefront of your mind in a consistent way and turns him into a real, flesh-and-blood person who had to eat lunch just like you and play with his nieces and nephews and get blamed for something that wasn’t his fault.
You should try it sometime. For a week, say. Or a month. Or a lifetime. You will find it impossible to write something bitter in an email or on facebook. You will have to swallow the harsh words you had for a family member. You won’t be able to complain when you have to give up a relaxing afternoon to watch someone else’s children. You will be more thoughtful, less disagreeable, more compassionate, more truthful. You will see more of the sun and less of the dark.
I’m sure as Christians this is what we’ve been trying to do all along. We’d be doing it already, only we haven’t really trained ourselves into the habit of thinking and acting this way. We do what comes naturally, what comes first. Unfortunately, that includes a lot of bickering, grumbling, and unnecessary severity. They’re little things, really. Brief moments of bad-mannered-ness that even we don’t remember for very long. And so we excuse ourselves. It’s not like we’ve killed anyone. It’s not like we even want to kill anyone. This is true. But we’re not being like Jesus.
I recently read a quote from Monod (no, I don’t know who that is) that said, “Between the great things we cannot do and the small things we will not do, the danger is that we shall do nothing.” We hear about Billy Graham and Mother Theresa, and our thought is, “Well, yeah, that’s great, but I can hardly do that.” And it’s true. Most of us can’t. But what about the things you can do? The places you can go, the people you already know, the brief, easily-forgotten minutes that face all of us every day? What about the little things? After all, “One who is faithful in a very little is also faithful in much.”
What would Jesus do?
You should try it sometime. For a week, say. Or a month. Or a lifetime. You will find it impossible to write something bitter in an email or on facebook. You will have to swallow the harsh words you had for a family member. You won’t be able to complain when you have to give up a relaxing afternoon to watch someone else’s children. You will be more thoughtful, less disagreeable, more compassionate, more truthful. You will see more of the sun and less of the dark.
I’m sure as Christians this is what we’ve been trying to do all along. We’d be doing it already, only we haven’t really trained ourselves into the habit of thinking and acting this way. We do what comes naturally, what comes first. Unfortunately, that includes a lot of bickering, grumbling, and unnecessary severity. They’re little things, really. Brief moments of bad-mannered-ness that even we don’t remember for very long. And so we excuse ourselves. It’s not like we’ve killed anyone. It’s not like we even want to kill anyone. This is true. But we’re not being like Jesus.
I recently read a quote from Monod (no, I don’t know who that is) that said, “Between the great things we cannot do and the small things we will not do, the danger is that we shall do nothing.” We hear about Billy Graham and Mother Theresa, and our thought is, “Well, yeah, that’s great, but I can hardly do that.” And it’s true. Most of us can’t. But what about the things you can do? The places you can go, the people you already know, the brief, easily-forgotten minutes that face all of us every day? What about the little things? After all, “One who is faithful in a very little is also faithful in much.”
What would Jesus do?
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