Rebellion

“But Samuel said, "What then is this bleating of the sheep in my ears, and the lowing of the oxen which I hear?"-I Sam. 15:14

Biology 101. Sophomore year of high school. I found myself in a class of middle to low achievers. By comparison, I was enough of a trustworthy student to have earned a seat next to the one cute girl in a room full of boys, some of whom were jail material. We sat at two-person lab tables on stools. My partner was a cheerleader, not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but perky and excitable. The class was predictably slow and unchallenging; the teacher struggling against the stream. One day mid-year, I somehow found myself in the possession of a small, plastic crawdad in my pocket. Amid the drone of another dull class, I pulled it out and craftily placed it next to my partner’s elbow resting on the table; then feigned total indifference. Moments later, a shriek rang out across the classroom as my partner fell to the floor in complete alarm. The critter instantly disappeared as my prank had escalated beyond my dreams. Wrongfully assuming my innocence (only “A” in the room), the teacher just warned everyone that those stools could be tricky.

I was enough of a rule keeper in my adolescent years to avoid serious trouble. No charges of petty theft, no cursing or fighting, no truancy, or even a duck-tail haircut. I have never smoked a cigarette to this day. Yet there was a latent edge of rebellion that became a part of my life during that time. It was subtle and manifested itself in curious ways. The teen years are a time of self discovery, and I was no exception. We all wanted to be unique and affirmed; at the same time. I started picking the rules I would obey and the ones I would not. The big ones were “no brainers”, but the small ones became a matter of my prerogative. I resisted and dodged certain chores at home that were abhorrent to me. I started to pick what classes at school I would work hard at and which ones I would skate. I hung with some kids who would steal bowling balls as trophies. I would take a salt shaker from the school cafeteria as a souvenir. Nothing outrageous, mind you, but always a bit of the rebel.

Rebelliousness is in every human heart ever since the garden. “Hath God said…?” was the whisper that led us all astray and continues to echo down through time. Mine was never a threat to society yet it was there, nevertheless. At times, I papered it over as a creative spirit that was not suited to following the herd. “Why should I memorize a senseless list that was in the back of every textbook?” At times my independent streak served me well. One night I was with some friends when they partook of their parents’ liquor cabinet. I, alone, abstained and discovered I had no trouble doing so. But other things I could rationalize with the best.

In retrospect, I can see where this has hurt me over the years. I was a terrible student at language for I would chafe at the drills and any rote work. I forfeited a chance to go into chemical research because I found the discipline too confining. I opened myself up to embarrassment at times for my susceptibility to compromise. My military career was doomed from the start because of my tendency towards “inventiveness.” Yes, it helped me stand alone as a beginning teacher when all the rest went out on an illegal strike. But it was much too late in life that I came face to face with the story of Saul’s selective obedience in I Sam. 15. “… rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft, and stubbornness is as iniquity and idolatry.” It took those words to shake me out of my comfortable delusion. I was not being unique, creative, or expressing my personality. I was rebellious.

How life turns. Now I am the gatekeeper of rules; the enforcer, no less. It is only by the grace of God that I now, too, can say, “To obey is better than sacrifice.” With respect to the authority figures that God places in our lives, my advice now is to listen and follow. If it is not illegal, immoral, or fattening, just do it. We will be the better persons for it. Standing alone for righteousness sake was relatively easy for me. Submitting to authority, convention, or any form of discipline was my moral challenge. Beware the bleating of sheep.

Mercy and Truth, Mr. Moe

The "B" Word

“O Lord, how many and varied are Your works! In wisdom have You made them all;” -Ps. 104:24

There were any number of forbidden words in our household when our children were growing up. Most of them, of course, were of the four letter variety. But one word was five letters long and was known as “the B word.” It is one which we can print here and one which some of you might not even find that objectionable. Quite simply, it was any usage of the word, bored. It just seemed to us to be a crime against humanity for any of our children to proclaim themselves bored in a home located in the heart of the United States of America where toys, puzzles, pens, pencils, and paints abound; to say nothing of books by the boxfuls. If that would not suit their fancy, there was always the resident cat and dog accompanied by periodic episodes of hamsters, rabbits, and chickens. Plus, if push came to shove, there were two other siblings present at all times to either join with in cooperative fun or to torment in some fashion or another. In good weather, there was a full acre of grounds to roam, trees to climb, flush with abundant material for fashioning forts, kitchens, or club houses. To claim boredom was to bring the wrath of Khan down upon their heads.

I must confess to having experienced brief times of boredom. Usually it was at the hands of some speaker droning on and on about a topic of no import (“The History of Hats in Medieval Italy”) in a manner that resembled someone reciting all 415 colors in a paint catalog. Yes, the state of boredom is not just an affliction confined to the young. Adults find themselves sometimes trapped in boring jobs, coming home to boring marriages, and even attending boring churches. How much of this is a prison built of drab, colorless walls wherein they are truly trapped, and how much of it is self-inflicted blindness due to their own inability to see the fascinating that lurks within the mundane? That is a complex question with serious spiritual dimensions.

I suspect that the answer lies more with what is going on within us than with what is going on around us. We have been placed in an incredibly fascinating world. Life abounds around us in astonishing variety, both great and small, and in full living color. This is no black and white world (which, in retrospect, would have worked just fine, I suspect). I am continually amazed how life pervades every conceivable corner of our world in the most hostile of environments. I have seen spiders crawling out of holes in snowfields. Miraculously, some forms of algae and bacteria flourish in the Dead Sea. Even in the deepest depths of the ocean, life has been discovered.

The Psalmist exclaims, “O Lord, how many and varied are Your works! …the earth is full of Your riches and Your creatures.” These are the words of someone who has come face to face with the wonder of wonders, an infinite God who sets the universe as His table and yet numbers the hairs on our head and calls us by name. Made in His image, we were meant to live in full appreciation of the vast panoply of wonders imbedded in creation. He calls to us through it, and we are audience to the beauty and complexity of it all. The work of the Holy Spirit surely amplifies God’s voice to us in creation and stirs in us the ability to praise Him “…majestic in holiness, awesome in glory, working wonders” (Ex. 15:12). To be obsessed with ourselves is the fountainhead of boredom. To look heavenward is to discover not only who we are but the magnificent stage we stand upon. In the midst of our mindless hours, the key to victory over boredom is to break free of our self pity and look out upon the miraculous that surrounds our every step.

Children, go out and play! Look under rocks, scan the skies, smell the leaves, observe the ants, dig in the earth, unlock the secrets of a seed, and marvel! And in becoming as little children ourselves, we, too, can enter the kingdom where we discover God’s most remarkable world and raise our voice in praise.

Mercy and Truth, Mr. Moe