On Getting What We Deserve

p.d.odum@gmail.com (Patrick D. Odum) — Thu, 10 Aug 2017 02:00:00 -0500

Fans sitting around him (some who had tried to make the catch themselves) berated him, threw beer and food at him, and threatened him.

Rise up, Judge of the earth;
pay back to the proud what they deserve (Psalm 94:2). [The LORD] does not treat us as our sins deserve
or repay us according to our iniquities (Psalm 103:10).

In 2017 the Chicago Cubs gave away what is, I guess, the last of their 2016 World Series rings. And I guess that's appropriate because it was received by probably the last person many Cubs fans would have imagined would get a ring. Until last year, the closest the Cubs had gotten to even playing in a World Series since 1945 was in 2003. The Cubs were playing the Florida Marlins for the National League pennant and a spot in the World Series. It was Game 6. The Cubs led the best-of-seven series 3 games to 2, and they had a 3-0 lead in the top of the eighth inning at Wrigley Field. The air was electric. With one out already in the eighth, the Cubs were five outs away from breaking one of the longest droughts in professional sports. When Marlins' second baseman Luis Castillo hit a lazy foul down the third base line, it looked like the second out of the inning. Cubs left fielder Moises Alou drifted over. The ball was floating toward the stands, but Alou was there and jumped to make the catch near the first row of seats. Except a guy named Steve Bartman was sitting there. A lifelong Cubs fan, he must have been thrilled to have those seats down the third base line, and even more excited to have the chance to catch a foul ball. Maybe he was a little overeager. Maybe Castillo should have been ruled out due to interference, as replays seemed to show Bartman's hand extended out past the stands. In any case, he didn't make the catch, and neither did Alou. The Cubs went on to give up eight runs in the inning. They lost game six 8-3, and they never seemed to be in game seven. Things didn't go any better for Bartman. Fans sitting around him (some who had tried to make the catch themselves) berated him, threw beer and food at him, and threatened him. He was eventually escorted from the stadium by security. He was placed under police protection for a while. He refused interviews, stayed out of public view, and as far as anyone seems to know has never returned to Wrigley Field. Last season, the Cubs apparently reached out to him to make an appearance at Wrigley during the World Series or at the parade after the win. Bartman politely declined. But finally, just last week, half a season after the Cubs broke their 108-year World Series drought, Bartman received his personalized World Series ring. In response he released a statement:

Although I do not consider myself worthy of such an honor, I am deeply moved and sincerely grateful to receive an official Chicago Cubs 2016 World Series Championship ring. I am fully aware of the historical significance and appreciate the symbolism the ring represents on multiple levels. My family and I will cherish it for generations. Most meaningful is the genuine outreach from the Ricketts family, on behalf of the Cubs organization and fans, signifying to me that I am welcomed back into the Cubs family and have their support going forward. I am relieved and hopeful that the saga of the 2003 foul ball incident surrounding my family and me is finally over.

My very unscientific poll shows that Chicagoans are mostly in favor of Bartman getting a ring. Predictably, though, there are some who question whether he deserves it or not. Even Bartman himself questions that. Whether he deserves it - that seems like a strange way to think about it. It's a gift. A peace offering. It's a gesture that symbolizes there are no hard feelings and hopefully brings about closure and reconciliation. It's true, of course, that he doesn't deserve it in the same way the players, manager, coaches, front office, and owners deserve it. But, it isn't about what he deserves. It's about the giving of a gift. So much of human life seems consumed by figuring out how to get what we think we deserve or making sure others don't get more than they deserve. We struggle with the idea that life is a zero-sum game, that whatever someone else gets is something I don't. That can be a harsh and uncompromising way to live, if for no other reason than when we're honest we all have to admit that we don't always deserve what we get and don't always do enough to deserve more. That schizophrenia about what we deserve comes out in Scripture, even. The psalmist who wrote what we call Psalm 94 wanted God to be “a God who avenges,” to mete out to those who arrogantly pursue their own interests at the expense of others “what they deserve.” And there are times when we pray for that, aren't there? And times when it seems absolutely right that we should. Yet none of us want God to treat us that way - at least, none of us who are honest with ourselves and know God even a little. We want what the composer who wrote what we know as Psalm 104 wanted. We want a God “who will not always accuse,” who will not “harbor his anger forever” and who “does not treat us as our sins deserve.” So do we want God to give us what we deserve, or not? I guess that depends on what we think we deserve. In one of his letters, Paul generalizes us all with one phrase: “[W]e were by nature deserving of wrath.” Not a lot of wriggle room there, huh? It's offensive. He lumps us all together. All that Old Testament, fire-and-brimstone stuff is what our sins deserve from God. We've all done enough to merit only his judgment. But in spite of that, he goes on to say that God loves us. He explains what God was doing through Jesus by using words like mercy, kindness and, most often, grace. Even though our actions had rendered us essentially dead, God in Jesus made us alive. He didn't do this in response to anything we have done, or even because he believes in our potential. It's by grace that we've been saved, rescued from our hopelessness and death and given life. It's for everyone who puts their trust in Jesus. And it has nothing to do with what we deserve. We would do well to remember that. When we're inclined to brag about our accomplishments or our morality or our prayer lives or our service to the poor, we should remember that all we have is by God's grace. When we're inclined to look down on someone who in our view doesn't compare too well to us, we should remember that nothing we've done makes God love us any more than anyone else. We should receive God's gift of grace with - what else? - grace. We should show grace to others who might still be laboring under the assumption that they must deserve the love of God and the people around them. Here's a thought: if grace doesn't come easy for you in your relationships with the people closest to you, maybe it's because you don't understand the gift God has given you. Maybe you're still consumed with being deserving of love, and maybe you're holding everyone else to that standard. Just know that God will never love you less or more than he does right now. If you look at the world around you through those glasses, it might just change what you see.

About the author: Patrick Odum lives in Chicago, Illinois, with his wife, Laura and son, Joshua. He is one of the ministers at Northwest Church of Christ, and an avid Heartlight fan. He enjoys writing and maintains a website of his work called Faith Web where you can find all of his articles. Email Patrick

Fast Food or Truly Full

p.d.odum@gmail.com (Patrick D. Odum) — Tue, 10 Aug 2004 02:00:00 -0500

Are you really full with all that you have been eating?

Come, all you who are thirsty,
come to the waters;
and you who have no money,
come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
without money and without cost.
Why spend money on what is not bread,
and your labor on what does not satisfy?
Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good,
and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.
Give ear and come to me;
hear me, that your soul may live. (Isaiah 55:1-3)

You think you've eaten a lot of fast-food in your life?
Wheeled into McDonald's on a busy day more times than you care to count?
Figure you've eaten enough Whoppers or Big Macs to circle your house a time or two? Brother, sister, let me tell you: you don't know what eating a lot of fast-food is. Don Gorske knows. Surrounded by spectators and reporters, he ate his 20,000th Big Mac in his hometown of Fond du Lac, Wisconsin. Don has been eating Big Macs since 1972, which means that, if I've done my math correctly, he's eaten the sandwiches since then at a rate of nearly two a day. He's in the Guinness Book of World Records. (Who knew they had a category for Big Mac-eating?) He's eaten a Big Mac, he says, in every state in the union. And I know what you're thinking, but that's the really amazing thing about this. At six feet tall, Don weighs 170 pounds. That's pretty unusual. Most of the time, if you eat 20,000 Big Macs in 32 years, you're going to be ... well ... you're going to look like you've eaten 20,000 Big Macs in 32 years. I don't know what condition his arteries are in, but thus far Don's unusual habit doesn't seem to be causing him any health problems. And while he might be better off if he switched to salads or something, if he can continue to fire down a Big Mac or two a day and get away with it, more power to him. But, Don's got me thinking that some people live their lives in a perpetual quest for the equivalent of fast-food. All of us, maybe, have this tendency to chase all the things that promise to satisfy quickly and easily. Human beings habitually scarf down what amounts to junk food for our spirits, unaware that though we may feel temporarily satisfied we're not really being nourished. And while Don may be doing OK on his steady diet of Big Macs, there is no way that we're going to thrive the way we were intended to on a steady diet of fast-food for the spirit. Oh, that kind of food's easy to find - a lot like a Big Mac. It's there on your coffee table within easy grasp, looking remarkably like a TV remote. Flip it on, sit down at the table, and stuff yourself with junk food for the soul. It's there at movie theaters, bookstores, and on-line. Pornography, hot off the griddle. Mindless magazine layouts on the home decor or parenting philosophy or political opinions or romantic lives of this or that celebrity. It's there at the mall, where models and mannequins and smiling salespeople entice us into believing that this shirt or that gadget or those shoes or that underwear will transform us into the people we secretly want to be. It's there in doctor's offices, where we're told that a new nose or larger breasts or smaller hips or fewer wrinkles will change our lives. Some people go to a bottle looking to be filled. Some go to a needle, or a pipe. Some go to food. Some go from romance to romance. Some live for the weekends. Some get involved in causes. It's hard to know, sometimes, when you're filling yourself with spiritual junk food. Sometimes it's obvious. Some of the things we try to fill ourselves with are illicit, immoral, and/or illegal. Some seem perfectly acceptable. But the common denominator is the human tendency to try to replace the food God offers us with other stuff. We've been doing it since Eden, and the consequences are always the same. Paradise lost. However, God offers us what will truly fill us, nourish us, and satisfy us. He offers it freely and generously. He offers us love without conditions. He offers us acceptance. He offers us purpose, value, and hope. He offers us forgiveness from our sins, freedom from shame, and the promise of transformation. He helps us learn to value ourselves just as we are while at the same time helping us to change those things we don't like. He offers us a new perspective in which evil and injustice and death don't have the last word. And maybe most importantly, he offers us the ability to see the world around us, other people, and ourselves through his eyes. How do we get all that? You see it, don't you? One little word: "listen." "Listen to me, listen well: Eat only the best, fill yourself with only the finest. Pay attention, come close now, listen carefully to my life-giving, life-sustaining words." (Isaiah 55:2-3, The Message) "I am the bread of life," promised Jesus. "He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty." (John 6:35) True nourishment, true satisfaction, is to be found only in God through Jesus. Nothing else will feed your spirit and sustain your life beyond the boundaries of this world. Isaiah's question still speaks to us, doesn't it: Why do we waste so much time, energy, and money stuffing our hungry souls with junk when God offers us a feast? When the cross invites us to take our seats at God's table and eat our fill? In prayer, in worship, with other people who are learning what nourishment really is, around open Bibles and inhabited by the Holy Spirit, let's accept God's gracious invitation to "delight in the richest of fare". Not another day. We've already had more junk food than anyone should. Put down the Big Mac and find your way into God's dining room.

Just Because You're Right

trshelly@lipscomb.edu (Rubel Shelly) — Tue, 09 Aug 2005 02:00:00 -0500

How important is proving to everyone else that you are right?

Leonard Sweet tells a story from Abraham Lincoln's days as a lawyer in private practice. The story goes that Lincoln was hired to sue a fellow over a debt that totaled $2.50. He didn't want to do it. But the client insisted "principle" was at stake more than money. The two men had been friends, but the delinquent debt had changed things. Now they would be adversaries over a paltry sum of money. Lincoln's resolution of his own problem of conscience in the matter was to charge his client a $10 fee for handling the case - to be paid in advance. Then the lawyer with big ears, a craggy face, and insight into human nature gave half his fee to the defendant, who promptly paid the $2.50 he owed. As with so many Lincoln stories passed around in popular lore, I can't vouch for the factual authenticity of the narrative. What I can affirm for a certainty is that we would all be better served by valuing relationships over vindication. Ever see business partners doom their company over an ego battle? The specific issue may be credit for an idea or the best office location. What to do with their first windfall profit. Which of the partners will represent the company to receive an award. How to market their product at the next level. Everybody who is watching knows what is really at stake. Ego has staked out the turf, and petty issues quickly become "matters of principle." And everybody loses. The same thing happens in families. Although love is supposed to be in the giving business, two "adult" partners to a marriage begin to focus on what they're not getting from the relationship. A tug of war begins over the things each person wants and expects of the other. Soon the two people are indicting and blaming. Divorce courts are crowded with people who didn't have to be there. And nowhere does it play out with more irony and pain than in churches. Holy desire to be a serious Bible student becomes unholy arrogance about a right interpretation. Admirable pursuit of an upright character turns into self-righteous and ugly condemnation of others. Churches squander huge amounts of influence by "taking a stand" at the expense of putting a boot on someone's neck. The issue here isn't that truth doesn't matter and that we should play to the lowest common denominator. One can't close his or her eyes to criminal or immoral behaviors. But, one is well-advised to hear Jesus on turning the other cheek before deciding that winning a dispute is worth more than saving a relationship. Just because you're right doesn't always make you right.

If you are wise and understand God's ways, live a life of steady goodness so that only good deeds will pour forth. And if you don't brag about the good you do, then you will be truly wise! But if you are bitterly jealous and there is selfish ambition in your hearts, don't brag about being wise. That is the worst kind of lie. For jealousy and selfishness are not God's kind of wisdom. Such things are earthly, unspiritual, and motivated by the Devil. For wherever there is jealousy and selfish ambition, there you will find disorder and every kind of evil. But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure. It is also peace loving, gentle at all times, and willing to yield to others. It is full of mercy and good deeds. It shows no partiality and is always sincere. And those who are peacemakers will plant seeds of peace and reap a harvest of goodness. (James 3:13-18 NLT)

About the author: Rubel Shelly preached for decades and served as a professor of medical ethics, Bible, and philosophy at multiple universities. He was a former president of Rochester College and Professor of Philosophy and Religion at Lipscomb University. He was the author of more than 30 books and hundreds of inspirational articles. His commitment to a non-sectarian presentation of the gospel touched countless lives.

The Last Goodbye

tbellkindred@scrtc.com (Teresa Bell Kindred) — Thu, 09 Aug 2007 02:00:00 -0500

What do you do when you think the end is near?

This week marks the anniversary of my mother's death. I dreamed about her last night and woke up with her on my mind. In my dreams she is healthy and happy, but she wasn't when we said our last goodbye. It was just a little over a year from the time we heard the fateful word "cancer," until she died the next July. Without a doubt 1989 was the toughest year of my life. Last week, a good friend of mine learned that her mother has cancer and that it has spread to several different organs. "I'm just afraid it's too late," she said to me. Within seconds my mind traveled back in time, reliving that last year and wishing I knew how to help her. Yesterday while walking at the park and praying for my friend, I thought of some things I wanted her to know. I think of them as lessons I learned about cancer. I shared them with my friend and I hope they helped her a little. I'm sharing them with you too, just in case there are others going through similar experiences that might benefit from someone who has been there.

There is always hope. My husband's brother was diagnosed with a particularly deadly type of lung cancer over two years ago. His prognosis was not good. It's been a tough two years but so far he has surprised all his doctors and defied the odds. As long as there is life, there is hope.
Cherish every moment of every day you have together. Our whole family went to Disney World the month before my mother died. How in the world mom was able to get out of her wheelchair and climb through the Swiss Family Robinson tree house I will never know; but she did, and those memories are dear to my heart.
Kids are wonderful distractions and reminders of happiness. Our oldest child was 8, our daughter was 5 and our youngest son was three when my mother became ill. Even on the darkest days you can find joy in the sound of a child's laughter.
Take care of yourself. In the middle of the most stressful time of my life, I found that exercise made a big difference in how I felt and coped with things. At first I started walking just to get out of the house and get some fresh air; but I soon realized that brisk walking helped me physically and mentally, even if it was just for fifteen minutes a day.
Remember to lean on others. My sister-in-law became my best friend during mom's last year. She stood by my side every step of the way. She loved my mother as much as I did and I couldn't have asked for a better friend. My brother and my husband were helpful too, but they both had to work. Not a day went by that Kelly didn't come to sit with mom so that I could be with my children. The Bible reminds us that "a real friend sticks closer than a brother" (Proverbs 18:24). When a loved one is seriously ill, there are no greater comforts that God, prayer, and true friends.

Is there someone you know who is going through a year like the one I had in 1989? If so, be a friend to them. Encourage them in any way you can. Pray for them, as well as their loved one. Be a friend that sticks closer than a brother.

About the author: Teresa is an accomplished author, speaker, mother, and grandmother. Teresa has been married to Bill for a lifetime of family, faith, and love. They are members of Pleasant Hill Church of Christ in Kentucky. They have 5 children and 4 grandchildren. Teresa is also the author of the popular women's blog called "NanaHood"!

A Child of God

p.d.odum@gmail.com (Patrick D. Odum) — Sun, 08 Aug 2004 02:00:00 -0500

Who are you?

No one looked on you with pity or had compassion ... Rather, you were thrown out into the open field, for on the day you were born you were despised. Then I passed by and saw you kicking about in your blood, and as you lay there in your blood I said to you, "Live!" (Ezekiel 16:5-6)

You might know his name. It's more likely that you know his nickname. John Merrick was a 19th-century oddity, a freak-show headliner who was made famous by a book and a movie about his life. Merrick was horribly deformed from birth, treated cruelly as a freak by those few who didn't turn away from him in disgust and fear. "The Elephant Man," they called him. In one of the film's most wrenching scenes, Merrick is cornered in a train station restroom by a mob, surrounded by pointing, gaping, laughing people who shout insults and obscenities. Exhausted, shamed, he sinks to the dirty floor. "I am not an animal," he insists. "I am a human being." True, yes. But sadly, treated more like an animal in his lifetime. The exception to that rule is Doctor Frederick Treves. Treves, who is initially interested in him as a medical case, helps to uncover and grows to love the sensitive, compassionate, kind, intelligent, articulate human being under the animal exterior. Through Treves, Merrick gets to live the last part of his life in relative comfort among London's wealthy elite. At one point, the beautiful actress, Mrs. Kendall, visits Merrick. They exchange some lines from "Romeo and Juliet," she reading Juliet and Merrick reading Romeo. As the lines conclude, Mrs. Kendall smiles gently and maybe a little sadly. "Oh, Mr. Merrick," she whispers breathlessly. "You're not an Elephant Man at all!" "Oh, no?" he responds, afraid to agree, afraid not to. "You're Romeo!" she says, sincerely and sweetly. Then she leans close and kisses his ugly cheek. Shortly before his untimely death, Merrick has an opportunity to thank his friend Dr. Treves. "Do not worry about me, my friend. I am happy every hour of the day. My life is full because I know I am loved. I have gained myself." Then he smiles, as much as he can smile. "I could not have said that if it were not for you." "My life is full because I know I am loved. I have gained myself." Amazing words, coming from the grotesque mouth of a man who was treated like a freak, like an animal, most of his short life. Amazing words, and they give us a glimpse of the power of the gospel. So very, very many of the people you will talk to today, work with, sit next to, and brush past could not honestly say what John Merrick said to his friend. So very many - maybe even you - do not know what it means to be loved. You've been admired for your success, or wanted for your looks, or liked because of your personality, or valued for your talent, but you've never been loved. You've never let anyone see your flaws, your sin, your hidden secrets because you've never known anyone who would love you in spite of them. You've never had anyone lean in close to your ugliness and plant a kiss on your cheek. We are all Elephant Men and Women, friends. We hide it, to varying degrees. Interestingly, the people we're least comfortable around are those who hide their ugliness badly, or not at all. But, we are all ugly and we all fear from time to time the mocking, pointing, taunting mobs of other freaks. We all fear that they just might be right, that there's something fundamentally wrong with us that makes us less than human. And that, fellow freaks, is where the gospel speaks. Jesus, amazingly, came in all his beauty to our world. He was not put off by our ugliness or fooled by our attempts to cover it up. He came and gave his life, his blood, his body for us. He came to make us believe that we aren't twisted, broken wretches. He came to make us believe that there is beauty and value inside us, that the image of God in us is not lost under our deformities. He came to give us full life, a kiss of God's grace on our ugly cheeks. That's the way the gospel transforms us. Through the love of God given to us through the crucified Christ and the indwelling Holy Spirit, we rise above our sin, our pettiness, our ugliness. We become who we were meant to be. We gain ourselves. We are not defined by our past ugliness. We are not animals. We are human beings; created in God's image and loved deeply by him. Maybe you didn't know that. Or maybe you just need to believe it. Listen to another freak who discovered himself in God's love: Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous man, though for a good man someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:7-8) I know. It's hard to believe. We're so familiar with the world's watered-down brand of love that we have trouble accepting God's brand. We have trouble believing that anyone could love us through our ugliness. But if you can believe it, if you can accept God's love the way John Merrick accepted Mrs. Kendall's kiss and Dr. Treves' friendship, you will discover the same thing that the "Elephant Man" discovered - yourself. You are not a sideshow freak. You are not too broken to be loved. You are not an accident. You are not an animal. You are a human being. You are a child of God.

Bent Out of Shape

p.d.odum@gmail.com (Patrick D. Odum) — Fri, 08 Aug 2008 02:00:00 -0500

How bent are you?

On a Sabbath Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues, and a woman was there who had been crippled by a spirit for eighteen years. She was bent over and could not straighten up at all. When Jesus saw her, he called her forward and said to her, "Woman, you are set free from your infirmity." Then he put his hands on her, and immediately she straightened up and praised God (Luke 13:10-13 TNIV).

She was bent out of shape. Eighteen years she had been crippled, nearly two decades of shuffling through life, head down, looking at peoples' shoes. We'd call it osteoporosis, maybe, or arthritis? Luke gets to the level of spiritual reality when he blames the woman's affliction on a "spirit." Having seen my grandmother stoop more and more as the years went by, and knowing the pain she was often in, I guess I sympathize with this unnamed woman. I wonder if she was bitter and angry at the hand her body had dealt her, or if, like my grandmother, she somehow managed to remain joyful and optimistic. Either way, sometimes she'd have to think with longing, wouldn't she, about a time long ago before pain and deformity had shackled her - about a time when she was younger and taller and straighter, when she walked with step light and head high? He was bent out of shape, too. With him it was just a little less noticeable. He was a synagogue ruler, so on the outside at least he must have looked good enough and respectable enough for the elders to put him in charge of operations for their village synagogue. He would have been responsible for the upkeep of the building itself, as well as for the services that went on inside. Maybe he was well-known, or wealthy, or influential. Maybe he was particularly pious. Whatever the reason, if it happened in, around, or to the synagogue, he was responsible for it. But he was just as bent out of shape as the crippled woman who was a part of his synagogue. His particular deformity was of heart and mind, though no less real than the woman's spinal stenosis. Its cause was a lack of theological imagination. His was a condition that made it possible for him to stand right in the middle of God's glory and power and think only about whether the order of worship was being followed. The two - spine-twisted woman and heart-twisted synagogue ruler - met one Sabbath. Or maybe they didn't. Whether they met each other or not, they both met Jesus. And it's probably not overstating the case to say that it was a meeting neither forgot as long as they lived. As a visiting Rabbi, Jesus was asked to teach on that Sabbath - almost certainly by the synagogue ruler himself. The teaching normally would have consisted of the Rabbi commenting on the texts assigned for that day with traditions, parables, and instruction. It was all done in a certain way, with a certain spirit, and the synagogue ruler would not have suffered lightly any action that might possibly have been seen as a disruption. Given that, maybe you can understand his discomfort when Jesus calls this woman - a woman -- to stand before the assembled congregation. "You're free from your infirmity," he says. And at his touch she is. She stands straight for the first time in eighteen years. And that's when we see how bent out of shape the synagogue ruler really is. "Indignant" - that's the word Luke uses to describe him. To put it more colorfully, he freaks. Blows up. Has a conniption. A hissy fit. With great gravity and dignity, no doubt, he stands up and in his best "Shhh ... We're in the synagogue" voice informs the congregation that the healing they've just seen doesn't count, because it was done on the Sabbath. "There are six days for work. So come and be healed on those days, not on the Sabbath." Well, that's just laughable, of course. Ridiculous on its face, because clearly God has placed his stamp of approval over the whole proceeding by healing the woman in the first place. And so Jesus - Luke calls him "the Lord" here, as a point of emphasis - sticks a pin in this puffed-up, self-important religious policy wonk. "You phony," he says - with a smile on his face, I think, because this is funny stuff - "Don't you untie your ox or donkey and lead him out to get a drink on the Sabbath? That's all I did - I untied this woman so she could finally be free from the bonds Satan had put on her. Isn't it especially appropriate that be done on the Sabbath - the day of rest?" Well, I don't know if the woman appreciated being compared to livestock or not, though something tells me she didn't mind so much. What we know is that the people of the synagogue get it, even if their leader doesn't get it. They're delighted, Luke tells us. They're delighted at what they see God doing through Jesus. It might not fit in the order of worship or have Jerusalem's imprimatur, but they know an act of God when they see it. I said before that I relate to that woman. But I relate to the synagogue leader, too, maybe more than I want to admit. I know the value of a well-planned worship service. I know the importance of good exegesis in our Bible reading. I know that not everyone should teach a Bible class or preach a sermon or stand before the congregation, and I know that things in church are to be done "in a fitting and orderly way." So I get Mr. Synagogue Leader, I really do. I get what he was trying to do. But along the way he lost something. He lost his sense of wonder and joy at God's power and grace and love and unpredictability. Somewhere along the line he shackled his heart to a set of rules and traditions and to a processed, plastic, mechanical God who does exactly what his people expect him to. And no more. Somehow he made a vocation of defending the dead weight to which he had bound himself. And it was being shackled to that dead weight that had him bent out of shape. And I hope that if that ever happens to me, someone will have the sense to stick a pin in my pomposity. Or at least tell me to get out of God's way. The fact is that often it's the very people who are well-versed in Scripture and leaders in churches who get bent out of shape when things don't go according to plan. A new Bible translation. A different order of worship. A new ministry. A different class of people coming through the doors. A fresh take on an old tradition. Never mind what God might be doing; all we can see is our narrow view of God being trespassed upon. I'm just saying that if you're feeling bent out of shape about something or the other, then maybe the problem is that you need to go back to Jesus. Maybe you need him to unshackle you from the burdens that weigh you down and restore the freedom and joy of your first encounter with him. Nothing would make him happier. Nothing would make you happier. And nothing would make the people around you happier. After all, they need a God who sets twisted, broken people free.

Featured Articles from Heartlight

On Getting What We Deserve

Fast Food or Truly Full

Just Because You're Right

The Last Goodbye

A Child of God

Bent Out of Shape