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 …
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