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