The Insufficiency of Law

This being election season and all, I've been thinking a bit about the divisiveness and power struggles that accompany this whole event.  Obviously there are a lot of reasons for this, but I wonder if one of the underlying issues is the expectation that the enactment of certain laws can transform society.  We vote for certain people to issue (or retract) laws that will in turn (we think) change people's behaviors so we can live in our ideal society.

But why this reliance on law?  Why this belief that if we can get people to act a certain way (under threat of punishment), all of our problems will be solved?

The Old Testament is full of stories of Israel straying from God, returning to Him, then straying again.  I'll admit that I used to judge them a bit for their unfaithfulness.  It seemed incredible to me that a nation could have their God intervene so strongly on their behalf, even erecting monuments in remembrance, then seemingly forgetting all about it just a generation or two later.

Courtesy of http://www.bartcop.com/2895.htm

The book of Hosea has always captured me.  In it, God instructs the prophet Hosea to marry a whore to illustrate His relationship with Israel.  He shows how He has pursued Israel even though they were unfaithful to Him, refusing to repent even as He tried to show them His love.

I wondered how that could be possible.  How could they forget so quickly what God had done for them?

Lately I've been wondering if maybe one of the lessons we can learn from the Old Testament is that the law was never sufficient for lasting change.  That a people could not be won for good by a set of external rules and commands.

In fact, even in the Old Testament, God was promising that one day He would take away their hearts of stone and replace them with hearts of flesh.  He promised that the law would in fact be written on their hearts, that their very DNA would be rewritten.  It seemed that a transition was needed from a system of external restraints to a brand new inward reality.

And then when God came Himself to accomplish all that was needed for the complete transformation of reality, those who were best versed in the law didn't know Him.  Doesn't that seem incredible?  And maybe shouldn't that be a clue that the Law was never enough?  When God came, the same God who gave them the Law they loved so much, they didn't even recognize Him.  In fact, they hated Him.

Why did they hate the Lawgiver?  Well, it may be because their power over others derived from their command of the law.  When the Lawgiver came to fulfill the law in its entirety, He was undermining their control.  No longer would teachers of the law be needed as each and every person could be transformed so that they would naturally live out God's law of love.

And then a funny (not really) thing happened. We've spent 2,000 years trying to turn it back into a system of law.  We disguise it as "Principles" or "5 Easy Steps", but it's all the same.  We don't trust the work of God within a person to replace their heart and transform them from the inside, so we try to manipulate people to behave in a certain way so that they can be pleasing or somehow closer to God.

Maybe this is a sign we're still operating out of a fear and shame based reality.  Maybe this should alert us that our view of Father is clouded with misinformation about who He really is.  I know that I want to move away from trying to control my environment with rules and laws, and instead trust Father to work in myself and others to bring us in line with our new inward reality.

Fear coerces.  Shame manipulates.  Love transforms.  Grace renews.  Which reality am I living in?

Agenda vs. Compassion

I can get kind of passionate sometimes when I hear something that seems to paint God in an unloving light.  Having endured years under the illusion of a cold, distant, disapproving God who is more taskmaster than father, it breaks my heart when others try to put that same yoke on people.

But I also understand that I may be slightly oversensitive in that area.  I don't want to jump on people who are simply expressing their own journey.

So lately I've been trying to find the balance between sharing Father's love and not violating the sacredness of another's personal experience.  I want to be driven by compassion, not an agenda to get everyone to agree with me.

It's hard sometimes to be sensitive to other perspectives.  While I may think I'm offering freedom from shame and condemnation, another may see it as a license for selfish living.  I'm learning that love and grace and religion can be rather loaded words.  As I'm getting deeper into conversations with people, I'm finding we're having a hard time communicating clearly because we have different definitions for the same words and phrases.

I say religion and I mean something negative: a self-effort based system of trying to earn God's approval, a system of behavior modification through fear, guilt, and shame.  I say church and I mean the body of Christ, not a service time or building.  I say "institutional church", and people don't know what the hell I'm talking about.

I say grace, and I mean the incredible life force that fills us and reveals Father to us more fully so that we continually become more like him.  I say love and I mean something transformative, something that changes us from the inside out so we live more in line with our new inward reality.  Others hear grace, and to them it means permissiveness, or simply the forgiveness that covers our sins when we screw up.  They hear love, and it means a single aspect of God's personality (maybe a small aspect), not that which underlies everything he does and says.

Some people even feel that we're reducing God to something less than he is by defining his nature by his love.  They feel like we're not giving him his due if we're not emphasizing that he also can be angry, or that he is a judge, or that he is holy.  Whereas I simply don't see any of that being separated from the fact that he is love.

So I pray to be more sensitive to the backgrounds and experiences of others.  I want to be a better listener than speaker.  I want to engage others simply because I love them, and let Father's love spill out naturally.  I want to be agenda-free, enjoying every person wherever they're at, just like Father enjoys me.

We Must Be Crap So God Can Look Better?

What is it with Christians that makes us feel like we need to degrade ourselves?  Why are the following refrains so popular?

"I'm not worthy"

"I'm just a sinner"

"I'm not capable of anything good"

Why do we feel that we need to magnify God by demeaning ourselves?  Is our view of Father so poor that we think He can only look good compared to our wretchedness?  Can we not rejoice in His goodness simply because He is good?

Lately I've been thinking about how much our view of God impacts our entire lives.  I think just about everything (our view of ourselves, how we interact with others, how we love, how we define justice or grace) really stems from the root issue of how we view Father.

And lately I feel like I've been seeing more people emphasizing the contrast between God's goodness or holiness and their own shortcomings and ignoble state.  What could that tell us about that person's view of Father?

Do they see God as jealous of praise?  Is He opposed to sharing His glory with His children?  Was God's plan all along to create a bunch of crummy people so that He could get all the credit for everything good?

But that just doesn't make sense to me.  That didn't seem to be the original plan at all.  I thought He made us in His image, I thought He called us "good".

What changed?  Do we attribute it to the fallen state of man?  But then what about Romans 5:12-21?

"Therefore, just as sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, and in this way death came to all people, because all sinned—

To be sure, sin was in the world before the law was given, but sin is not charged against anyone’s account where there is no law. Nevertheless, death reigned from the time of Adam to the time of Moses, even over those who did not sin by breaking a command, as did Adam, who is a pattern of the one to come.

 But the gift is not like the trespass. For if the many died by the trespass of the one man, how much more did God’s grace and the gift that came by the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, overflow to the many!  Nor can the gift of God be compared with the result of one man’s sin: The judgment followed one sin and brought condemnation, but the gift followed many trespasses and brought justification.  For if, by the trespass of the one man, death reigned through that one man, how much more will those who receive God’s abundant provision of grace and of the gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man, Jesus Christ!

 Consequently, just as one trespass resulted in condemnation for all people, so also one righteous act resulted in justification and life for all people.  For just as through the disobedience of the one man the many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of the one man the many will be made righteous.

 The law was brought in so that the trespass might increase. But where sin increased, grace increased all the more,  so that, just as sin reigned in death, so also grace might reign through righteousness to bring eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord."

The consequences of the Fall cannot compare to the glorious restoration that was accomplished through the Cross.  So if who we are in Father's eyes has not been diminished, why do we insist on putting ourselves down?  The idea of God being selfish with His glory doesn't seem to jive with John 17:20-26.

“My prayer is not for them alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me.  I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one— I in them and you in me—so that they may be brought to complete unity. Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.

“Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am, and to see my glory, the glory you have given me because you loved me before the creation of the world.

“Righteous Father, though the world does not know you, I know you, and they know that you have sent me. I have made you known to them, and will continue to make you known in order that the love you have for me may be in them and that I myself may be in them.”

I'd like to delve more into that passage at a later time, but I'm pretty sure that's not an account of a selfish God.  That's a God who seems to enjoy sharing His glory with His children.  That's a God who has wrapped us up in Him and has made His dwelling place in us.  

But I know the obvious argument: "Are you saying we should be prideful and arrogant and not recognize the fact that all we have is by the grace of God?"

Not at all.  But why is agreeing with God's view of us a bad thing?  I had been in a discussion with some people a little while ago about pride and humility.  A number of people made the point that humility is really just agreeing with reality.  If the reality of the situation is that God has made us good and delights is us as His children and has designed us to be beautiful and creative and generous and pleasing, why should we disagree?  Why do we think God gets more glory by us speaking ill of His beloved children?  

I feel like I'm trying too hard to make a point.  I'm trying to process an idea that I can't quite put my finger on.  More and more I feel like Father is asking me to be aware of how my view of Him impacts various areas of my life.  More and more I feel like He's inviting me to know Him more, to allow Him to strip away my distorted views of who He really is.  

I hope I didn't come across as preachy or condescending.  I'm not trying to put down people who feel like they have to demean themselves in order to properly honor God.  I've lived in that place for a number of years and I understand the heart anguish that is associated with that.  But I still think it's an interesting question to ask.  How do our lives reflect our view of God?

Shoot, I just should have started with that question.  Oh well, not gonna rewrite this whole mess now . . .  

Expectations Are Death

Expectations are death.  That's the phrase that's been running through my mind a lot lately.

Why are they death?  They destroy relationships, as we're always comparing the other person to our own expectations of who they should be.  They destroy hope because reality never seems to match up to what we expect.  They destroy joy because we're blind to the good things that are happening since they aren't identical to the pictures in our head.

When we're ruled by expectations, our relationships are shams and we're constantly disappointed and dissatisfied with life.

How do I know?  Because lately I've become more aware of how much expectations rule my life.  It doesn't matter what the scenario is, chances are I've already envisioned how I want it to go.  I constantly wish other people would say or do certain things, often so that I look good in the eyes of others.  My happiness is generally contingent on how well reality lives up to my expectations.

And it's a truly sucky way to live.

I miss out on how great people are and how much I can learn from them because they dare to be unpredictable, happy, sad, outspoken, quiet, boisterous, depressed, unruly, afraid.

Even now I'm imagining the things I'd want people to tell me after reading this blog.  I'm not only craving approval and validation, I'm craving it a certain way.

How messed up is that?  It's like I want to give life a script to follow, I want to pick out the songs that play in the background at dramatic climaxes, I want everyone else to memorize their lines and perform in such a way that makes me look great.

But it turns out I'm missing out on the best story imaginable.  I'm missing out on engaging with actual people, crazy, beautiful, struggling, heroic, awesome people.  I'm missing out on engaging Father in the middle of my failures and fears.  I'm missing out on living an adventure where so much is completely out of my hands, but I'm still invited to relax into the security of knowing Father's goodness.

I'm trying to create a story with me in the center, but that story is very small and in the end quite sad.  The wonderful thing is that I'm invited to join a much greater story, a grand adventure, where I have a role to play but thankfully Someone infinitely gracious and loving is actually in control.

So I'm trying to let go of expectations.  It's not easy, it runs counter to my self-centered impulses, but it also allows me to be a much truer me than ever before.  It allows me to more fully embrace the identity that Father has given me, and that's a much better scenario than any I could imagine.

The Power of Shame

I want to write more, I feel that urge.  I also don't want to make it an obligation or chore, because then I will resent it and not do it.  But lately I've been feeling that it's somehow important for me to write consistently.

I generally only write when I'm trying to process something.  Lately there have definitely been things I'm trying to process, but not exactly things I want to reveal in a public way (even if no one reads this).

So, in broad terms, let's talk about shame.  And maybe about expectations and agendas.

There's no doubt that shame is an incredible motivator for getting people to behave in a certain fashion.  And in some cases it is used to "help" people avoid doing something that is damaging to themselves or others.  Does that mean that shame can be a good thing?  Is it a case of the end justifying the means?

I tend to think not.  I think what shame actually does is disguise the true dangers of unhealthy behaviors.  It's a quick and easy fix, but not a very good one.  Shame can keep someone from doing something that's wrong, but only up until the point that the satisfaction from that wrong behavior is greater than the shame that's associated with it.

The more public the shame, the more a person will be willing to put up with in order to not experience it.  But there is still a point that the situation becomes so unbearable that the threat of being shamed is no longer enough to hold them back.

Let's take divorce for an example.  In the christian community, there's a lot of public shame associated with a divorce.  It's considered a four letter word in many churches.  Therefore, a spouse will often be willing to put up with quite a bit of unhappiness (even tolerating abuse in some cases) before it reaches a point that getting a divorce is "worth it".

The fear generally seems to be that if we remove the shame factor, there will be nothing holding people back from all sorts of unhealthy behaviors.  I think that ignores a number of factors.  I don't have the time or space to get into them all right now, but I think it ignores such things as our new natures, how we naturally live when we have a clear picture of who God is and who we are, etc.

But the point I'm slowly trying to make is that maybe the removal of shame lets us finally take a look at the actual issues causing our unhappiness in situations or our desires to indulge in unhealthy behaviors.

With shame as the motivation to stay in an unhappy marriage, both spouses can avoid talking about what's actually contributing to their problems.  If the goal is simply to avoid shame by sticking it out, then they miss an incredible opportunity to be honest and vulnerable and delve deep into issues and try to find healing and restoration together.

Shame is kind of like a bandage that covers a wound that is festering and spreading infection throughout the body.  Ripping off the band-aid may not be a pleasant experience, but I think it lets us address the underlying issues.  And I believe that as we do that, we find God's grace healing that wound in ways we never could have imagined.

I also tend to think this ties into the issue of expectations, but I'll try to tackle that another time.