Questions

I had a parent conference yesterday.  We met to discuss grades specifically, but before we started, I told the parents I wanted to give them my general impressions of their son’s progress.  The overview was that he seemed overly confident and unwilling to take instruction.  I told them that when I begin going over a project or expectations, I feel that he hears about ¼ of what I’m saying, assumes he knows the rest, and then tunes me out (I’m sure teenage parents can relate!).  After that, he neglects to conference with me or ask further questions, believing he is on the right track, but his grades are showing that he could have seriously benefited from less confidence and more questions.  He is not alone.  It is unbelievable the amount of kids I have this year who believe they know it all.  They are smart kids, and they have received good instruction in middle school, but they are 14.  There is still much more left to learn. 

 

You have to love people who are willing to ask questions.  This week in my Bible Study, one of our members started asking all kinds of questions.  Her questions started out pretty easy.  Things like, “What is the difference between 1 John and John?”  and “Did the same person write both books?” and “Is Jesus in all of these books?”  They were great, fun questions to answer, but then she hit us with a ringer.  “Well, if all these people were alive when Jesus was alive, and if the gospels were written soon after he died, why didn’t he just spend time on earth writing to us? Why do we have to read about his life from someone else’s perspective?”

 

What a great question!  Jesus could have taken time to write down an autobiography or a book of wisdom.  He is God.  Why leave his message in the hands average human men?  Honestly, until this week, I had never thought about why Jesus didn’t write the Bible.  He just didn’t.  I’ve known he didn’t write it for so long, that I don’t even think to question why.  But, this week, before my friend’s question, I had been reading a commentary that addressed her exact concern.  In his commentary on Luke, William Barclay says that the reason Jesus didn’t write was because his job was to come to earth first as a sacrifice – to die for our sins – but secondly, to show us how to love.  Barclay says that Jesus could have confined himself in solitude and written all kinds of rules for life, but instead he DID life for us.  Showing us what it looks like to love and serve and grieve and pray and resist temptation.  He gave us a picture lesson of what the gospel is, and then allowed others to put it into words.  I gave my friend that answer on Wednesday night, but I have been tossing her question around in my mind all week, and last night even had the chance to discuss it with Andy.

 

After thinking it through, I think there is another reason Jesus didn’t write the Bible.  I think he wanted to continue the precedence of inviting human beings into service with him.  He wanted to give Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, the opportunity to experience him more deeply as they researched and wrote the gospels that have blessed millions of people across centuries.  I can understand a similar experience.  One of the most moving spiritual times in my life was when I was a new teacher, and I began dating an old college crush.  Life was not going well for my new boyfriend at that time, and our dating relationship became something of an act of service on my part. However, it also gave me a front row seat to how huge God is and how quickly and powerfully he can move in someone’s life, and he let me play a small part as he transformed my boyfriend’s individual life and relationship with his family.  It was an amazing experience, and it served me much more than I ever served my boyfriend.  Through that short relationship, God showed me what trusting him looks like, how big he is, and how to know him as healer.  God didn’t need me to work in this man’s life, but he invited me to play a part, and because I was willing, he blessed me right along with my boyfriend.

 

I think this is how God works.  He can do everything himself.  He doesn’t need us for anything.  If he wants to bless the homeless man on the street, he can do it any way he chooses, but what if he wants to use us and our $5 bill?  He can comfort a new friend with internal peace and a song on the radio, but what if he wants to use our loving arms to wrap them in a hug?  I think God stands, inviting us to see what serving people feels like.  To know what it is like to love like he does.  He waits with open arms to give us those opportunities.  He doesn’t need us, but he wants us to walk alongside him and to know the joy of loving like him.

 

My friend at Bible Study could have held back her question about Jesus writing the gospels.  I could see in the way she prefaced it, that she even debated whether or not to ask, but I’m so thankful she did.  She was willing to be used by God to give me a week to think about Him in brand new ways.  And for that, I thank her.

Follow the Rules!! Or Maybe not...

I’m a “Follow the Rules” girl.  If someone semi-reliable tells me there is a right way to do almost anything, I’m going to do it – and do it consistently.  An example: Andy and I rarely disagree, but how much money we should put in a 401K is always a sore point.  He believes 12% is plenty especially when coupled with other investments.  I read a book called Automatic Millionaire several years ago, and from it, I’m convinced 15% is the bare minimum and 20% is much more desirable.  I’m pretty sure neither of us is actually wrong, but I have this rule in my head that I feel compelled to follow. 

 

My rules don’t only apply to my personal financial life.  They impact how I do my job and how I interact with others socially.  They even impact the way I view other people.  I say “bless you” when someone sneezes.  I follow almost every single school rule no matter how ridiculous I think it is.  For example, do I care if a kid has a hat on in class?  No.  That is absolutely not a priority to me.  But I don’t let kids wear hats because the school rule says they can’t.  When leaving church in a crowded parking lot, I impose the “alternating go” rule – allowing one car to go in front of me and expecting that someone will also let me into the line when it is “my” turn.  I become embarrassingly angry when cars don’t follow this rule and immediately speculate on whether they are really Christians and vent about how hypocritical they are not to allow the next waiting car in front of them after leaving a church service!

 

Innately, I believe that good people are rule followers.  Bad people break the rules.  You know who else believed the same thing?  The Pharisees.  They get a bad rap in the Bible (a well-deserved bad rap, I might say) but I think if we are honest, we could see ourselves in these guys. At least I know I do.

 

I’m reading Luke right now along with William Barclay’s commentary, and here is what I see about the Pharisees.  They know the Bible cover to cover.  They know it better than almost anyone else, and they really want to do what it says.  But, as we all know, parts of the Bible are not super clear.  God says to rest on the Sabbath.  Well, what does that mean?  What counts as work?  What counts as rest?  How do we know if we are truly following God’s call to rest on the Sabbath?  The religious people of the time wanted to do what God said, and they wanted to do it the right way, so they started trying to figure it out, and in figuring it out, they created all kinds of rules to help them follow the command.  It got to the point that, to be on the safe side, one type of work, carrying a burden, was defined (in part!) as “food equal in weight to a dried fig, enough wine for mixing in a goblet, milk enough for one swallow” (Barclay).  I’m no Biblical scholar, but as a modern example, it seems like it would be a sin to carry a baby bottle to feed a crying child – unless maybe you carried the milk one or two tablespoons at a time to fill the bottle in front of the child.

 

The rules became so difficult and restrictive that average people could not possibly carry them out.  The regular responsibilities of a household would prevent following every rule on the Sabbath.  The Pharisees, however, wanted so badly to do everything right that they “separated themselves from ordinary people and ordinary life in order to keep these rules and regulations,” in fact, their name ‘Pharisee’ even means ‘separated one’ (Barlcay). 

 

I think of these men who are trying so hard to be pleasing to God.  They are trying to do everything right and follow all the rules, and they aren’t enjoying life much as a result, but that is ok because they are finding their identity in the fact that they are at least keeping God’s commands.  And then here comes this Rabbi whom everyone loves, and he is breaking all the rules and teaching the people it is ok to do the same. This Rabbi Jesus even heals a man’s hand on the Sabbath – in the synagogue (of all places!) in front of the entire crowd.  He did that miracle clearly knowing the rule that healing was off limits on the Sabbath as it counted as work. 

 

Honestly, I can’t help but feel sorry for the Pharisees in this situation.  Not only does Jesus break all the rules on their turf, he even has the man stand up in front of the entire crowd and asks, “Which is lawful on the Sabbath: to do good or to do evil, to save life or to destroy it?”  He may as well be asking, “Who among you thinks the rules we’ve followed for decades are dumb?  Who thinks everything the Pharisees have built their lives trying to accomplish is useless?”

 

I know the Pharisees had it all wrong.  I know that Jesus was right.  I know he wanted them to see that their value was found not in rules but in God and in their service to others.  In my heart, I know that.  But I think about my own life, and I wonder how I would respond if someone came to me and said, “You know all those rules you’ve been following to try to be a good person?  They are worthless.  You are all wrong.”  I would seriously struggle.

 

In fact, reading Luke has made me question the rules Christians follow and whether they really matter.  For example, in some instances it is ok to wear jeans to church, but one should never wear sweatpants or a sweatshirt or shorts.  All Christians should serve their church in some capacity – work with children’s ministry, hand out bulletins, pass the offering plate – something.  Women should do women’s Bible Studies in addition to regular time alone with the Lord.  Christian women who don’t do at least a few Beth Moore studies aren’t very serious about their faith.  We shouldn’t work on Sundays, which means Chic-fil-a is the only truly Christian restaurant and that neighbor mowing his yard is a complete heathen.  The list goes on and on.  I know we all have rules and expectations about how Christians should behave that are not specifically mentioned in the Bible.  Reading Luke, I have to question whether our modern self-imposed rules are as ridiculous as the ones the Pharisees followed.  What would Jesus say if he stepped into our churches and homes?  Would he praise us for a job well done or would he tell us we are getting it all wrong – that our hearts have seriously missed the mark?