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?
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