Sabbath

I remember years ago when Sabbath observance was a big deal in our churches. Pastors and professors and elders were passionately concerned with what is and is not permitted on Sunday. Conferences were held frequently, editorials were written, and there were even some church splits.

Is it good or bad that those days are long behind us?

This morning, reading along in Exodus 23, I came to verse 12: “Six days do your work, but on the seventh day do not work, so that your ox and your donkey may rest, and so that the slave born in your household and the foreigner living among you may be refreshed.”

On the seventh day do no work. What does that mean?

Grandpa would say, “If you don’t want to work, you shouldn’t make anyone else work either.” He would say that to honor this command, we should stay away from anyplace where people are paid to serve us. That makes sense in the context of this verse; it’s kind of the modern equivalent of letting slaves and beast of burden rest too.

One of my college profs explained that the purpose of Sabbath rest is to refresh our souls. He said that we avoid work because work takes our minds away from God. He recommended that the day be devoted to worship, contemplation, and conversation that centered us once again on God.

All that was a long time ago, though. Lately the only conversations about Sunday I get involved in relate to the second service. It seems like we don’t question what is or isn’t appropriate to do on Sunday anymore.

Is that good? For most of my work colleagues, once they get past Sunday dinner, in the words of one of them, “It’s another half Saturday.” I don’t think his perspective is at all unusual. Pretty much everyone I know golfs and swims and hunts and shops and travels and eats out. Is that OK? Is this nagging guilt I feel just because it’s different than it used to be?

It’s likely that Grandpa’s views were more restrictive than they had to be. It also seems likely that current practice may be out of whack. Most of the people I work with are dragging on Monday; they come back to work to rest up. Is that the outcome of a well-observed Sabbath?

Since I don’t know, and I don’t want to stir the pot with my friends, I’m going to talk it over with someone I know will accept my weakness without diminishing my worth, someone who won’t be offended no matter what I say about it. I’m going to pray. I’ve found it’s the best way to work through confusing obedience issues.

faithful warriors

I think Steve Green sang it: “May all who come behind us find us faithful.” I was reminded of those lyrics this morning when four verses in Joshua 22 convicted me. 

“Then Joshua summoned the Reubenites, the Gadites and the half- tribe of Manasseh and said to them, ‘You have done all that Moses the servant of the Lord commanded, and you have obeyed me in everything I commanded. For a long time now—to this very day—you have not deserted your fellow Israelites but have carried out the mission the Lord your God gave you. Now that the Lord your God has given them rest as he promised, return to your homes in the land that Moses the servant of the Lord gave you on the other side of the Jordan.’” Joshua 22:1-4.

That record - years of faithful service far from home - reminded me that such service is not only possible, but also a marker of God’s people. And it also reminded me of how often I’ve been AWOL.

Unlike these three tribes, I too often look toward the comforts of home and leisure when duty, in the form of committee assignments and church needs, calls. I have opted out of too many fights. I am picky in choosing when and where I serve, and who I allow to lead me. I wonder if those who follow will find me faithful.

But at my best, when God’s changing work is having its effect, that’s not me. Sometimes I’m right there, tirelessly pushing at the wheel or pulling at the rope. Sometimes I’m the one giving field first aid to a wounded comrade. And every day I go to Scripture to wrestle with how to live.

In the end, it’s God who is faithful. I see again that the best me is found only in him.

just war

At every level of officer training I attended, from the Platoon Leader’s Course to Command and General Staff Officer College, we wrestled with the concept of what makes a war just. It was an important discussion for me, a Christian in uniform.

I’ve been told many times, by Christians of all stripes, that there is no such thing as just war. But this morning I read in three chapters of Joshua the history of the Israelites’ fight for their new homeland. The story was summarized in Joshua 10:42: “All these kings and their lands Joshua conquered in one campaign, because the Lord, the God of Israel, fought for Israel.”

So that war, at least, was clearly just. But what makes another war just is less clear. One traditional consideration has been to oppose evil, and defense of the helpless is another. But those concepts are beginning to fray. Americans as a whole disagreed that the evil of Saddam Hussein justified the most recent war in Iraq, and in fact no longer agree on the concept of evil. And America took a pass when the world called on us to protect the defenseless in Rwanda and Darfur. In fact, our current President is the first who has not explained his rationale for why his use of the military meets the requirements of just war, preferring instead a pragmatic approach.

Especially in an election year this is a critical question for me. I can’t reject the use of military force out of hand, because we have a military and we will use it, and because I think verses like the one above demonstrate that sometimes the use of force is appropriate.

But not very often, and then it is critical that we as a nation lay out the moral and legal case for war before we begin. As a voter, an important question to ask is, “How will this candidate use our military?” It seems to me that a good indicator of the answer is the candidate’s use of power in other forms. 

At the same time, I need to search my heart to see how I view power, and how I use it when I have it. Power used in any way except on behalf of the powerless creeps toward abuse.

witchcraft

I met my first witch about 20 year ago, on a military base. Her coven was using a wooded part of the base for rituals. Federal law required that we allow free expression of religion; base regulation authorized me to have a veterinary doctor at any event that involved animals. She objected, I stood firm, and she found a different place for their ceremonies.

Since then the frequency of my encounters with Wiccans, as they now are known, has increased, reflecting society’s fascination with the occult.

God hates witchcraft, which is different than saying he hates witches. But he made his feelings clear in Deuteronomy 18:10-12 “Let no one be found among you who . . . practices divination or sorcery, interprets omens, engages in witchcraft, or casts spells, or who is a medium or spiritist or who consults the dead. Anyone who does these things is detestable to the Lord . . . .”

I think one reason God hates the occult is the reason he is angered by false prophets. (Verse 20 reads, “But a prophet who presumes to speak in my name anything I have not commanded, or a prophet who speaks in the name of other gods, is to be put to death.") God wants his own words to be the only thing we use to understand him. He doesn’t want us to guess by looking at animal entrails or weather patterns. He doesn’t want us deciding for ourselves. 

I wonder how often I’ve been guilty of this? In all those times I’ve been sure of God’s will, so sure that I even told others, how often did my ideas come from somewhere other than God’s revelation? If it ever does, I’m as wrong as the witches.

laws

I saw something at work that seemed to me to be a metaphor of some kind for life. Right under the sign of lunch room rules (number 3 of 7 is “Clean up after yourself”) lay a dirty fork and knife surrounded by a spatter of some kind of red sauce. 

There’s an interesting attitude we have here in America that I haven’t encountered anywhere else I’ve been. We like rules for other people, but we always think we should be the exception to the rule. We want a clean kitchen but we don’t want to wash our own forks. I know I can be like that. But I’ve come to realize that I don’t really understand the role of laws and rules.

I’ve started to think that the law is less about putting constraints on me than it is about showing me what good citizenship looks like. We can’t all do anything we want, or there’d be chaos. So if we want safe streets and good services and a minimum of conflict, how should we all behave? Our rules are meant to describe what good social behavior looks like, so we don’t go around making everyone else’s day worse just so ours can be a little easier.

In Moses’ farewell address to the Israelites, he first reminded them of everything God had done for them, and then he went over again the laws God had given. As he started to do that, he said this, in Deuteronomy 4:1-2, “‘Now, Israel, hear the decrees and laws I am about to teach you. Follow them so that you may live and may go in and take possession of the land the Lord, the God of your ancestors, is giving you. Do not add to what I command you and do not subtract from it, but keep the commands of the Lord your God that I give you.’”

These commands, Moses explained, told the people exactly how to live within God’s blessing. They described the best behavior for a close relationship with God and each other. Nothing more would be needed, but nothing less, either.

I think that’s why Jesus said he didn’t come to abolish the law, but to fulfill it. God’s law still shows me how to be a good servant, to God and people. And Jesus showed me exactly what that looks like. Just because the penalty for lawbreaking is gone, that doesn’t mean I don’t need the law to help me see how my own sin contrasts with God’s expectation.

Will I ever love the law? Probably not. But I love the benefits I get when others follow the law. Can I be a big enough person to want to give them the same thing?

culture

An interesting comment I overheard recently between Christian brothers: “I prefer to watch TV shows; sports just glorify money and feed the ego of arrogant athletes.”

What’s interesting to me is the guy who said that understood that sports programming can put some bad ideas in people’s heads, but didn’t seem to see that TV shows do too. The truth is, the most dangerous part of pop culture isn’t sex or violence, it’s the ideas that are presented so sympathetically that I want to agree.

In Numbers 33 I read God’s instructions for making sure everyone in Israel had a part of the promised land. Then, in verse 55, I read this: “But if you do not drive out the inhabitants of the land, those you allow to remain will become barbs in your eyes and thorns in your sides. They will give you trouble in the land where you will live.”

We can’t and shouldn’t drive unbelievers out of our towns. But I have to recognize that those ideas they feed me are like cactus spines in my eyes and soul. 

For the Israelites, the struggle was against pagan religions with their offers of free sex and lots of spectacle. For me, it’s the idols of self and humanism.

Suggestions that marriage is an outdated institution, that my happiness is most important, that might makes right, that truth equals intolerance, all of those messages that bombard me every time I turn on the TV or radio or read a book or even a newspaper . . . they bleed me a little bit, each one of them, until my strength and zeal for God oozes away one little drop at a time.

I can’t and shouldn’t drive out unbelievers, but I can and should banish their bad messages from my mind, and my house, and my car radio, and anyplace where I get to decide. And if I don’t consciously do that, then I will slowly begin to accept. Because these are the things that those people I find more interesting than God tell me to accept if I want to be accepted by them.

In the end, it’s another choice of who to serve.

no retirement

I wonder what went through Moses’ mind when God gave him his last job. 

Moses had led quite a life. Floated on the Nile in a basket as a baby, raised in the palace, a murderer and fugitive as a young man, years spent herding sheep in the desert, then a return to Egypt as a rebel leader, and more than 40 years commanding God’s people during their wanderings. Now, when they are about to enter the promised land, God says, "Take vengeance on the Midianites for the Israelites. After that, you will be gathered to your people." (Numbers 31:2.)

Moses knew already he wasn’t going to enter Canaan with the Israelites - God had announced that long ago. But still, after everything, one more battle, one more people to subdue, and then that was it. Did Moses feel tired? Regretful? Resentful? Or just glad it was over, glad it was time to enter God’s rest?

I can imagine some of all of that, because I can easily feel that way. Not that I’m ready to kick off any time soon, but I’ve been known to say, “Really? I’m not doing enough? I haven’t already done enough? Lord, you’re going to suck everything out of my life and leave nothing for me.”

Which is exactly the point. Life is supposed to be not about serving myself, but about serving God by serving others. And that would make me happier, if I just let it. I have to acknowledge that most of the unhappiness, the stress, the anxiety I have had has been because I want things for myself. I’ve never felt those things when I was doing ministry.

Right up to his death Moses kept getting big assignments from God, and he faithfully carried them out. I need to think about that when my friends are all talking about early retirement so we can spend decades on the golf course.

blessings and curses

If given a choice between blessings and curses, I doubt anyone would choose to be cursed. Yet, if God is still the same today as he was in the time of Moses, a lot of us choose the curses. Because Leviticus 26 makes it clear that all those choices that amount to disobedience will bring me bad things.

The chapter starts this way, in the first 13 verses: "If you follow my decrees and are careful to obey my commands, I will send you rain in its season, and the ground will yield its crops and the trees their fruit . . . . I will grant peace in the land, and you will lie down and no one will make you afraid . . . . I will look on you with favor and make you fruitful and increase your numbers, and I will keep my covenant with you.”

That all sounds pretty good. Sign me up for the favorable work conditions and prosperous results. Sign me up for the peace and fruitfulness.

But then things take a turn, in verse 14 and following: “'But if you will not listen to me and carry out all these commands . . .  then I will do this to you:I will bring on you sudden terror, wasting diseases and fever that will destroy your sight and sap your strength. You will plant seed in vain, because your enemies will eat it. I will set my face against you so that you will be defeated by your enemies; those who hate you will rule over you, and you will flee even when no one is pursuing you.

Wow, um, no thanks! I don’t need any terror or wasting diseases, or fruitless work, or to lose to my rivals. Life is fine without all that.

But then I go through my day shading the truth when it helps me, laughing at the coarse talk, railing against stupid people, sometimes causing discord. So much of my day can pass without a thought given to God.

So what am I choosing really? Just because God, in his grace, gives me a little time and space, just because he doesn’t send all that badness on the first day, doesn’t mean his judgment will wait forever. Am I lulled by his forbearance?

Choose this day whom you will serve, a later apostle would say. Who am I really choosing?

plenty

God provides.

Sometimes when I hear that, I think, “Yes, he provides us the ability to work and to get things done and earn a living.” I think that because I like to think I’m self-sufficient, and I wish other people would be too.

But God doesn’t teach self-sufficiency, he teaches interdependence. Often he provides by giving us each other. And sometimes he provides things that would be impossible for us to attain.

For example, in Leviticus 25 God lays down the laws of the sabbath year and the year of Jubilee. In answer to the obvious question of where the food would come from if the land was rested for two years, he promised this, in verses 21 and 22 “I will send you such a blessing in the sixth year that the land will yield enough for three years. While you plant during the eighth year, you will eat from the old crop and will continue to eat from it until the harvest of the ninth year comes in.”

Farmers I know do everything they can each year to ensure a good crop, but sometimes crops still fail. God promised, and provided, bumper crops as needed.

This reminds me of two things. First, God does provide. He can do anything he wants to, and he often wants to bless me. It’s my own worldly lenses that make those blessings look like luck or the result of my own good character.

Second, I shouldn’t ever turn down an assignment from God because it looks like I’m short of skills or resources. Like the three-year crop at Jubilee, God already knows exactly what it will take to get me through, and he has a plan for that.

Thanks be to God for his goodness to me.

gleanings

I’m not a big fan of the welfare state. I don’t like the idea of some of us living off the rest of us. On the other hand, I do think the government has a critical role in ensuring everyone has a chance to provide for him or herself.

Once again, there is timeless truth for this very modern issue in scripture. This morning I read Leviticus 19:9-10, which says "'When you reap the harvest of your land, do not reap to the very edges of your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest. Do not go over your vineyard a second time or pick up the grapes that have fallen. Leave them for the poor and the foreigner. I am the Lord your God.’”

There are three things here that I needed to be reminded about citizenship. First, as one of the fortunate ones blessed with a good job, I have an obligation not to use all of my wealth for myself. Part of what I produce is to be made available for the less fortunate.

Second, the poor shouldn’t just live idly off the largess of the workers. The poor should be willing to put in the work of collecting for themselves. In today’s world, that may mean that they could provide a service to my community in return for which they have a right to support, kind of like the old CCC of the 1930s. But lack of money doesn’t excuse anyone from good citizenship.

Finally, God says I have an obligation to provide not just for the poor, but also for the foreigner. There are many who feel immigrants and refugees have no right to anything until they pay taxes; that doesn’t seem to be God’s way.

And that’s the real point here. In this chapter of Leviticus God lays down many other commands as well, and finishes all of them by saying “I am the Lord your God.” To me that sounds like, “As my image-bearers you must be like me, and that means you must do this thing.” Not argue, not complain, just do.

unclean

It’s a hard truth that I don’t like: This world can pollute my soul.

I think that’s one reason God made so many laws about cleanness in the Old Testament. For example, in Leviticus 11:44-45, he said this about what animals the Israelites could eat: “I am the Lord your God; consecrate yourselves and be holy, because I am holy. Do not make yourselves unclean by any creature that moves along the ground. I am the Lord, who brought you up out of Egypt to be your God; therefore be holy, because I am holy.”

Later on God would give Peter permission to eat these animals, so the problem wasn’t with any potential health consequences. I think God was communicating the principle that some things that would look good to us, and would be done by those around us, would compromise our holiness.

It’s easy to look past the things that draw me closer to God, and want the things that won’t. I look past the blessing of Sabbath rest and wish I could work, or shop. I look past the fellowship and support found in Bible study groups and prefer the flexibility of keeping my schedule open. I look past the joy found in quiet, sober living and think my partying, nightlife friends are having more fun than I am. I look past the providence of my moderate home and small pickup and JC Penney wardrobe and envy the guys with mansions, Escalades and bespoke suits.

Beware the things of this world that distract us from God. Consecrate yourselves, the verse says, and that means set yourself apart for holy purposes. Be holy, because God is holy.

What exactly does that mean? I don’t know how to define it, but I know it in my heart. I can feel when something is right or isn’t. That’s the counsel of the Holy Spirit, and I need to listen more closely.

unauthorized

The end doesn’t justify the means.

That old, old saying is a hard sell these days. We tend to be expedient. I do what works most effectively. I don’t very often think of the principle behind the rule, I just think of how following it doesn’t seem necessary at the moment. So I speed, and make illegal U turns, and put computer parts in the dumpster, and all kinds of other things I shouldn’t.

I shouldn’t because behind every rule there’s a principle. Traffic laws exist for safety and conservation reasons, so even if it looks like I can break one without too much risk, I still should be concerned over emissions and fuel economy. Improper disposal of universal waste will poison the planet; I can think my little item won’t make a difference, but the act demonstrates my selfishness and lack of concern for future generations.

Even more, there’s the larger principle that my rule breaking, if observed, reinforces other people’s inclination to break the rules.

Often we break the rules trying to do good things. That was the case for Nadab and Abihu in Leviticus 10:1-3: “Aaron's sons Nadab and Abihu took their censers, put fire in them and added incense; and they offered unauthorized fire before the Lord, contrary to his command. So fire came out from the presence of the Lord and consumed them, and they died before the Lord. Moses then said to Aaron, ‘This is what the Lord spoke of when he said: “Among those who approach me I will be proved holy; in the sight of all the people I will be honored.”’

As a Christian, most of the time right living is less about what I do than how I do it. God doesn’t just want a result, he wants faithful hearts that care about principles.

civic responsibility

I know that I can’t read the book of Leviticus and think I’m supposed to literally do what it says. The time of blood sacrifices and certain eating prohibitions and ceremonial uncleanness is past.

I also know that it’s important to read Leviticus because the principles behind God’s instructions still apply. God doesn’t change, and neither does his guidance.

So I feel conflicted when I read Leviticus 5:1: “'If anyone sins because they do not speak up when they hear a public charge to testify regarding something they have seen or learned about, they will be held responsible.”

I prefer to stay out of things. I don’t want to speak up regarding accusations people make against each other. I don’t want to get involved, I just want to keep my head down.

I want to interpret this verse narrowly and say, “Well, if I ever know something about a court case or legal charge, of course I’ll speak up.” I suspect, though, that God is telling me something about my responsibility as a citizen. I suspect that when there is public discourse on issues where I can speak truth from my own experience, I’m called to do that.

That means I can’t avoid those conversations on entitlements anymore, not when I work with so many young mothers struggling even with a little help and a job. I can’t avoid those conversations about immigration, because I have legal immigrant friends who have illegal immigrant family members here too, and I know why and what they face. When so many just repeat what they’ve heard, I can speak from experience and by doing so add some of the nuance that makes these issues way more complex than just building a wall and making Mexico pay for it.

If I don’t speak up, this verse says, then I bear some responsibility for the bad answers society comes up with. Once again, responsible citizenship and obedient service are the same thing.

Good to remember in an election year.

obedient

Sometimes I wonder why I blog. And there’s no shortage of blogs, most of them written by people better equipped than I am. And it’s not like there are hundreds of people reading.

I usually don’t think about it very long. Truth is, I just need to write something. I’ve never had the time to focus on writing the great American novel, and the journalism career I started on proved not to be family-friendly, so writing for pay never worked out. But I can’t not write.

And I feel like there’s some small level of giftedness here. Sometimes I managed to string words together in a way that helps someone else. There’s an obligation to use any gift.

This morning I read, in Exodus 4:11-12, “The Lord said to him, ‘Who gave human beings their mouths? Who makes them deaf or mute? Who gives them sight or makes them blind? Is it not I, the Lord? Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say.’"

God said that to Moses, at the burning bush, but those words seemed meant for me. God gave me a voice. My job is to faithfully open my mouth, or open the word processor. When I do that in service to God’s people, it always seems that the words are there.

That’s true for every gift I have, including the ones I don’t use much. Too often, I’m like Moses, who replied to God, "Pardon your servant, Lord. Please send someone else." (v13).

I remember the story of the boy and the beach full of starfish, and the advice I got a long time ago: Just do the thing you can do. Make a contribution.

So here it is, another small pack of paragraphs let loose on the world as an act of obedient service. May it bless someone as much as the reading and reflection blesses me.

fearmongering

What have you done for me lately? That’s a phrase used in business and sports to say that we can’t rest on our past accomplishments. We have to continue to contribute.

“Then a new king, to whom Joseph meant nothing, came to power in Egypt. ‘Look,’ he said to his people, ‘the Israelites have become far too numerous for us. Come, we must deal shrewdly with them or they will become even more numerous and, if war breaks out, will join our enemies, fight against us and leave the country.’" Exodus 1:8-10

The new king could just as well have said “What have you done for me lately?” He didn’t care that Joseph saved Egypt from famine, he didn’t care about Joseph’s family. What he saw was a bunch of foreigners living on the best part of his land, weird people with strange rituals who were quickly becoming very numerous.

So he applied the same formula I tend to apply to people I don’t know: Different + capable = scary. Or different + not capable = contemptible. Either way, they must be a threat. We must guard ourselves against them, keep them away. Control them. And, ironically, Pharaoh made the Israelites into exactly what he saw them to be, by treating them badly.

Pharaoh did it, I do it, our politicians are doing it. And some of those other people see us the same way. To attack the one who is different is a hallmark of our brokenness.

How about a different formula? Maybe different = interesting. Maybe capable = good partner. Maybe if we see others as something helpful to us, then by treating them that way they might come to see themselves that way too.

It won’t work in every case - Satan is active, after all. I just think I’ll let God guide my behavior; if Satan gets to the other guy then too bad for him.

still on duty

Being grandpa is a pretty sweet gig. I get all the fun of small children without the hassles of parenting. When they’re sad, they run to grandma. When they want to play, they come to me.

I’m at that place where my life is pretty much what I want it to be, what I’ve been working towards for five decades. I have a plan that sees me into retirement and beyond. A lot of retirees from our neck of the woods go south; I don’t think that will be me.

Jacob didn’t plan on it either. Jacob may have been like me, with a life he liked and no desire for big changes. At 130 years of age, he likely thought he was set, until his long-lost son Joseph moved him south to Egypt. Lock, stock and barrel, as they used to say to mean everything.

Genesis 46:33 and following:  "’I am God, the God of your father,’ he said. ‘Do not be afraid to go down to Egypt, for I will make you into a great nation there….’  So Jacob and all his offspring went to Egypt, taking with them their livestock and the possessions they had acquired in Canaan. Jacob brought with him to Egypt his sons and grandsons and his daughters and granddaughters—all his offspring.”

Well into his second century, Jacob set out with an extended family of almost 90 people and made his last move. He moved from the place God sent him to another place God sent him. He started over completely, in a foreign place, because it was part of God’s plan.

The moral here sounds more like a warning to me. It seems I hear God saying, “Don’t get too comfortable, Greg. You’re here to serve, and you’re not worn out yet. Stay ready and keep working; I’ll let you know when you’re off duty.”

go up to Bethel

This morning, reading again a very familiar passage, I noticed something I’d just blown by before.

Here’s the setting: Jacob is running from that encounter with his brother/rival Esau, and God tells him to go build an altar and live at Bethel. Jacob doesn’t know it, but when he gets there God is going to renew with him the covenant He made with Abraham.

What I noticed this morning is what Jacob did first. He demanded that his entire group give up their foreign Gods. “So they gave Jacob all the foreign gods they had and the rings in their ears, and Jacob buried them under the oak at Shechem.” Genesis 35:4.

What a powerful picture of what it means to answer God’s call! Before I start, I have to get rid of any worldly thing that’s going to hold me back.

It makes me wonder about my rationalizations for wallowing in worldly culture. Some of the movies I watch and computer games I play and books I read and music I listen to serve modern day religions like humanism and atheism and relativism. In suggesting that my own happiness should be my first concern, they tempt me from God’s call. In promoting violence as a solution they mock the Prince of Peace. When they offer intimacy with anyone who attracts me as a source of joy, they destroy the marriage institution that is the model for Christ’s relationship with His church.

I think maybe I need to dig a hole under the oak tree. If I can’t bear to toss in my TV set and iPad, maybe it will at least remind me to make better choices about what I do with them.

Doctrine really has some use in real life?

So this morning I read this in Titus 2:

You, however, must teach what is appropriate to sound doctrine. Teach the older men to be temperate, worthy of respect, self- controlled, and sound in faith, in love and in endurance. Likewise, teach the older women to be reverent in the way they live, not to be slanderers or addicted to much wine, but to teach what is good. Then they can urge the younger women to love their husbands and children, to be self- controlled and pure, to be busy at home, to be kind, and to be subject to their husbands, so that no one will malign the word of God. Similarly, encourage the young men to be self-controlled.

This didn’t make sense to me: “sound doctrine” is that old men should be temperate, old women reverent, young women pure, and young men self-controlled? Good advice, maybe, but not doctrine.

Doctrine is deep stuff like the trinity, and total depravity, and election. Doctrine, frankly, is what we need badly to know but hate to learn because it’s hard.

These verses aren’t hard. Hard to do, maybe, but not hard to understand. Not doctrine, certainly. I didn’t get it, until I noticed the earlier words “appropriate to.” “Teach what is appropriate to sound doctrine.”

The idea is this: Doctrine has to affect the way we live. Doctrine helps us understand who we are in relationship to who God is. If that knowledge doesn't change what we do, then it does us no good - what is meant to equip us for home and work and school and life becomes boring.

Sound doctrine means us old guys need to be temperate (showing moderation or self-restraint, Webster says). Grumpiness and impatience don’t show others the God we serve. Old ladies, don’t gossip about people who don’t meet your standards. Young men and women, control your emotions and behaviors, so that you don’t reflect badly on Jesus.

These are the lifestyle markers of Jesus followers. His way is different; only God-changed people can do it. These things make us examples; life itself becomes witnessing. As it was meant to be.

Obedience

Hmmm . . . I hate it when one of my comfortable assumptions is challenged and I can't muddle through to a new answer.

I'm having that today as I consider the following verse from Romans 14: 5 "One person esteems one day as better than another, while another esteems all days alike. Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind."

This verse is in a passage about not quarreling over opinions on things like whether the Sabbath is holier than any other day or whether or not to eat meat. (By the way, the right answer is, of course we should eat meat; otherwise what's the point of being at the top of the food chain?)

Anyway, this verse suggests that what makes the answer right is whether or not I'm convinced it's right. How can that be? Sometimes I believe things I find out later to be wrong. 

Obviously Paul would not argue that truth is relative, because other parts of scripture clearly state that it is not. Maybe the point here is that God is less concerned about our ability to understand than our desire to obey. If we think He doesn't want us to eat meat, we shouldn't; if we think He does, then we should. God can't both want us to eat meat and want us not to, so one position reflects poor understanding of what God wants. But if both are done out of a sincere desire to obey, then maybe God counts it as obedience anyway.

I'm still not comfortable with the verse, but I think part of what it's telling me is this: Study God's word to come to the best understanding of His will that you can. Then do God's will as you understand it. God might not punish me for my lack of understanding, as long as I tried, but He will be disappointed if I don't try to obey.

In the end, this verse probably should be reassuring. After all, none of us will ever fully understand God. This verse relieves us of the burden of having to. But it also challenges us not to be so dogmatic about our own understanding that we don't allow the possibility the other guy might still be OK with God.

Rats, another comfortable assumption challenged.