How you do something is nearly as important as what you
do. Imagine the chaos that would reign
in the ring if there were truly no rules, no holes barred. If suddenly a tightly choreographed ballet of
wrestler-meets-wrestler became a fully unscripted, unrehearsed free-for-all of
may the better, stronger, and more determined man win. Imagine the shock and surprise. Imagine the real injuries that would come
from doing for real, what up till now was only part of that tightly
choreographed ballet. People would get
hurt. Seriously hurt. And all of the sudden it is not fun
anymore. Not fun to do surely, but also,
not fun to watch. It is easy to watch a
melee we know in our hearts is tightly controlled. But to watch carnage is not what anyone truly
tunes in for. For the audience, no one
wants to see real harm, real damage. It
makes it hard to sit still and just watch it.
You want to get up, you want to do something, you want to make it stop. And as God watches this earth. He knows it is not choreographed. The war for mankind is very real. And the damage is very real, pain is very
real. And He just wants it to stop. But He cannot make us listen, or instead of
humanity, He would have only created biological robots. Instead man must choose his fate.
But what happens when we choose wrong? Oh sure, it is easy for the Christian
believer to sit back in the easy chair and just think, once you choose Jesus,
you’re done. And frankly that is sort of
true. The problem is that we package
Jesus, with a whole list of doctrines that are supposed to be teachings of how
to connect with Jesus better. Sometimes
those doctrines do a great and wonderful work.
And sometimes we just get it wrong.
We wind up teaching something that not only does not bring us closer to
Jesus, it takes us farther away, pointing us in the wrong direction
entirely. That is not just an
oh-well-moment. That is more like a
literal oh-my-God moment. Turning away
from Jesus is a sure-fire way of finding carnage that you are at the center
of. It is removing the rules of
protection, and entering the ring outgunned only to find your opponent brought
a chain-saw he already has running and completely intends to use … on you. Doctrines that distract put us in this
position. Fanaticism of nearly every
kind can do the same thing too. And the
carnage is not pretty, and it really hurts.
So what does God do?
He tries to warn us. He sends us
His messengers (imperfect as they may be) to warn us, and try to keep us away
from the carnage. And I am not talking
about avoiding some after life hell everybody bemoans. I am talking about avoiding real painful
carnage in this life, in the here and now, that any given demon is all to happy
to bring your way. He sends us His
people to try to keep us of group mind, and more importantly of a group heart,
where love might help us avoid, what otherwise looks attractive. God has written His love letter in the form
of His word (the Bible). In this book of
love, He tries to tell us the story of how we got it wrong to start, and He has
been working every day since to help us get back to what “right” looks
like. We can read it. And through the lens of the life of Christ,
where Jesus demonstrates every day what love looks like, we can understand
better what His love letter might mean.
But for those of us given to extremes, it is easy to misinterpret that
love letter to mean some predefined agenda.
We package up those thoughts and ideas, and brand them a doctrine. Then we force feed everyone else the doctrine
that might save them or get them lost, based on how they respond. What started as a love letter degenerates
into hate mail; all by altering the perspective of the reader to fit their own
agenda instead of what He originally meant.
This danger is not new.
It did not start with us. But it
has a horrific tendency to be continued by us, in ways we may have become numb
to. Sometimes when we do become numb, it
takes a spiritual smack-down by Jesus to wake us up, and begin to see the error
of our ways. To make us see, we got it wrong. And ultimately to help us change course
before the carnage heads our way (chainsaw rumbling in the distance). Matthew continues the object lesson of Jesus,
of our price for getting it wrong in chapter 23 of his gospel to the
Hebrews. He picks up with Jesus talking
in verse 23 saying … “Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye
pay tithe of mint and anise and cummin, and have omitted the weightier matters
of the law, judgment, mercy, and faith: these ought ye to have done, and not to
leave the other undone. [verse 24] Ye blind guides, which strain at a gnat, and
swallow a camel.” Yikes. The first woe issued here is about fanaticism
in the church.
Our Pharisee forefathers knew the obligation of paying
tithes back to God. They did not see the
love in it, because they did not use love as the lens through which to read
God’s love letter. So lacking love, they
read only the obligation of paying tithes.
Apparently God was only another tax master. And while God did not have a readily apparent
tax agent to collect His due. There was
a history of monstrous things happening to Israel when their sins got bad. So better to avoid captivity by paying God
off with what he required. 10% of the
increase is tithe. We generally hold
that to be 10% of our incomes from jobs.
So did they. But they took the
matter a step further. The word
“increase” could apply to flocks and sheep.
So why not to spices in the spice rack.
Therefore in an effort to be fully compliant (again note the lack of
love), they actually taxed themselves 10% on literally anything that went into
the kitchen. Even the smallest things we
would never even consider. Straining at
the gnat.
It is like going to a picnic to eat. And to avoid eating unclean things, you
carefully sift your pepper, to insure not a single gnat has died and fallen
into the pile or container. And while
you meticulously sift each grain of pepper with your left hand, you hold a
camel burger in your right hand eagerly munching away. While perhaps the notion of not eating a dead
bug accidentally is OK (extreme given the venue, and low likelihood it is even
a risk, but OK); eating camel burgers is strictly prohibited, and horrible
tasting as well (just a guess, you don’t see many camel-burger stands going up
everywhere for 2 thousand years).
Without love as the driving motive, Pharisees had only corrupt and
selfish judgments. They handed out
rulings and decisions that favored themselves, no matter who else it cost. Sound familiar? We vote for ideas that will benefit us, even
if others must pay for what benefits us.
Even if those who pay can least afford to. And we call this progressive, or disruptive
thinking. Its not. Its simply walking where our Pharisee
forefathers once walked, for the same reasons they did.
The disease of extremes must continue to be called out. Jesus continues in verse 25 saying … “Woe
unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye make clean the outside of
the cup and of the platter, but within they are full of extortion and excess. [verse
26] Thou blind Pharisee, cleanse first that which is within the cup and
platter, that the outside of them may be clean also.” Apparently a strange custom had developed so
long ago, of washing the outsides (or bottoms if you prefer) of plates and
cups. But leaving the insides or tops
alone. I guess the idea would be to let
the crumbs of the last meal, help flavor the current one. While this might work once, or maybe even twice,
over time it is not flavor that lasts, but mold that begins to grow. It is then a “new” flavor that infects the
new food you intend to eat from the old that for whatever reason you keep
neglecting to clean. And mold flavor
brings with it, you guessed it, carnage.
So with a dishwasher in every home (we call ours “me”). Perhaps we cannot relate to a dirty plate
analogy. But how about a more personal
one. What is the dress attire
requirements at your church for worship services? It used to be “the best we had to
offer”. Over time that became a
three-piece-suit. That evolved into a
jacket, lose the vest, keep the tie.
Then perhaps it was lose the tie.
Then for the bold, it might become lose the jacket. But wear a pair of cargo shorts and a tommy Bahama
look alike short sleaved shirt, with tennis shoes, and see what happens. I know (it is how I go to services now). And just so you know, my decision was not one
of disrespect. Rather, I dress like I
do, every other day of the week. I would
like to believe that I dress to be able to help those in need when I encounter
them. And as my disabilities make it
very hard to dress any more formal than this, this is the least pain in getting
presentable. But does anyone bother to
ask me about that? Does anyone look past
the cane with the four feet, and reason perhaps that had something to do with
it? Not where I go. My church family is surprising accepting of
me (that is, no one has had the nerve to say a single negative word). But I expected it, and still do. Cause how I package the outside of the plate,
is still something most church goers pay more attention to, than what is on the
inside. And forget me, this is a
phenomenon that has infected our sanctuaries for years, from our ancient roots
right up to this day. We focus on the
packaging, and turn a blind eye to the insides, and how we love.
Jesus continues in verse 27 saying … “Woe unto you, scribes
and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed
appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men's bones, and of all
uncleanness. [verse 28] Even so ye also outwardly appear righteous unto men,
but within ye are full of hypocrisy and iniquity.” It is almost as if Jesus peered into any
traditional church body in America. Or
perhaps into any executive office suite where serious money is made. Looking the part, is a distinct part of our
culture, in and out of the church. We
worry about our packaging, believing it says something about who we are. It does.
It says we worry about our packaging, perhaps more than being fit for
practical service. And perhaps our
assemblies are more inwardly facing, where we feed each other, you know, the
already fat sheep; instead of assembling out of our normal comforts and going
where the need is, to meet it. Not
because we have to, but because we are driven to, because we just cannot sit
still and watch others in carnage for one more minute.
Service is rarely “pretty”.
When I do the dishes in my house, I look anything but pretty. I struggle to stand, to balance, to get the
job done right. I am hunched over
leaning on the sink to steady me. And
yes, we have an automatic dishwasher so why do I bother. (Technically it is full of hoarded containers
for some reason I am not allowed to throw out.)
But beyond the technicalities if I am able to do the dishes, my wife who
works hard in her hospital trying to help patients facing life and death
dilemmas get better or at least feel better, won’t have to come home to a dirty
kitchen, and find even more work to do.
I am no saint. Nor am I clean
freak. I make more than my share of mess
as I am sure every husband does, that my wife without a word comes behind me
and cleans. We do what we can for each
other, because we are afforded the opportunity to. It is not a contest, it is a pleasure, the
pleasure of trying to ease each other’s burden, even if only a little. And what it leads to ultimately is time, more
time we can spend together, which frankly is worth more than any place where
serious money is made, or where euphoria over spiritual repetitions are recited
ad nauseum. We probably don’t look too
pretty in our “house clothes”. But as I
said service is rarely ever pretty, at least on the outside. But what I see when I look at her is a fire
inside that is immune to age, health, or inability – and to me that is
beautiful no matter whether it comes dressed in scrubs, 15-year-old house shorts,
or a negligee from Vickie’s.
It is time for us all to see the beauty of service to
others. Not just to our families, but to
any who have need. Not for brownie
points, or to earn heavenly demerits, but because the passion to sit still
while carnage is ever present is just something we can no longer abide. It is this passion that comes from
transformation, and it is available without measure to any who seek it, in the
form of submission to Jesus Christ. My
Pharisee forefathers refused to submit.
They preferred extremes of law, to extremes of love. And they like we, cover the ears so as not to
hear, even as God sent His messengers (imperfect as all of us are) to invite
them back to love. Jesus continues in
verse 29 saying … “Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! because ye
build the tombs of the prophets, and garnish the sepulchres of the righteous, [verse
30] And say, If we had been in the days of our fathers, we would not have been
partakers with them in the blood of the prophets. [verse 31] Wherefore ye be
witnesses unto yourselves, that ye are the children of them which killed the
prophets. [verse 32] Fill ye up then the measure of your fathers. [verse 33] Ye
serpents, ye generation of vipers, how can ye escape the damnation of hell?”
Smack down. To
me. To my generation. Woe to us.
For we say … “if we had been in the days of Jesus, we would not have
been partakers with them in His blood”.
And in our next breath, we deny His love, rely upon ourselves, and fail
miserably. Then we propagate our
doctrine of self-reliance to our children, and our sphere of witness, to no
effect. We teach action without
motive. Because self-reliance may
control action, but has no effect on motive.
So we try to act our way into heaven, fooling no one. It will be our own damnation we cannot escape
when by grace we walk His golden streets.
To know the time we wasted, and lost.
To see the lives we could have showed just a little more love to, but
failed and lost the opportunity, sometimes forever. It will be our own knowledge of perfect love
that will perfectly condemn who we are today in our own eyes then. That damnation is our inescapable fate, even
on golden streets. Unless we can begin
our journey of submission to Jesus now, in the here and the now. Only then can our feet move from well-trodden
paths of failure, into the green grass of His direction.
Jesus calls out to them and us in verse 34 saying … “Wherefore,
behold, I send unto you prophets, and wise men, and scribes: and some of them
ye shall kill and crucify; and some of them shall ye scourge in your
synagogues, and persecute them from city to city: [verse 35] That upon you may
come all the righteous blood shed upon the earth, from the blood of righteous
Abel unto the blood of Zacharias son of Barachias, whom ye slew between the
temple and the altar. [verse 36] Verily I say unto you, All these things shall
come upon this generation.” I am
confused, is He talking to them, or is He talking to me. When I ignore the prophets in His word. When I deny the power of His gospel, by
stubbornly holding to the image in the mirror to somehow find perfection when
history would demonstrate this is impossible.
When my denial is as great as theirs, do I also share their fate, and
the blood of those slain to try to recall me to the Feet of Love itself?
Listen to the ache in the voice of Jesus who so longs to
love us, when still we reject Him. Jesus
continues in verse 37 saying … “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killest the
prophets, and stonest them which are sent unto thee, how often would I have
gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth her chickens under her
wings, and ye would not!” He is not just
speaking to those long gone from the earth.
He is still speaking straight to me, and to you. How He longs to gather us under His
wings. But we are too evolved for
that. We are modern, and educated, and
well to do. We have no need of a
protector, let alone of a savior. We
intend to do that work ourselves, strengthened by our doctrines, and certain in
their interpretation, with no room for error or mistake. And still Jerusalem would not. Not the city.
But us the group of believers who claim His name, yet know not His real
power to change. And so it comes, the
price of getting it wrong. The price of
our arrogance, and pride. The price of
our hypocrisy and refusal to submit. The
self-imposed hell of separation from His Love He so longs to give.
Jesus writes the epitaph picking up in verse 38 saying … “Behold,
your house is left unto you desolate. [verse 39] For I say unto you, Ye shall
not see me henceforth, till ye shall say, Blessed is he that cometh in the name
of the Lord.” The smack down ends. There is no point to more, if the message
will never penetrate the person’s ear, because they refuse to let it. Is this where our lineage to our Pharisee
forefathers makes a break from their path of self-reliance? Or do we too follow along blindly clinging to
our doctrines, our hypocrisy, and our complete lack of passion for others on
any level. This is where I must rage
against my heritage. I wish to hear His
words, open my ears, and my heart, and become someone other than who I would
make of me. There comes a point where
forgiveness is just not enough. Where a
real change in behavior from a real change in motive is the goal we live
for. Forgiveness gets us started but it
is not the end of the road, it is only the beginning. A life past His transformation is the only
thing we should seek with singular purpose.
To let Him remake how we think, how we love, and why we do what we
do. And Jesus will. He does this to every willing seeker. No matter your past, or your present, your
future can still be something so much better.
It is worth more than anything.
Don’t ever let it go. Let this
smack-down be the last one we ever need …
