Keeping God in the Equation

Recently, someone called me a hypocrite. As far as I can tell, it was because I wasn't fitting into the little box into which she thought all Christians should confine themselves (so they don't bother her?). She herself has disregarded the Church as a irrelevant and hypocritical institution, so I fit right into her presuppositions, I guess. I won't argue the facts of the accusation - it's neither important nor relevant to the point I want to talk about. I was left with this sense that I had been completely misunderstood - as a Christian and as a pastor. It made me go back and look at the stories of Jesus, when he called the religious leaders of his day "hypocrites." How does that title fit me?

The religious leaders of Jesus' day were so wrapped up in the day-to-day requirements of religion, they'd forgotten about God. That's the message we see from Jesus in the Gospels. He pulled out the "hypocrite" card whenever the religious leaders were trying to catch him at breaking one of the 713 "commandments" of Jewish law. Jesus spoke harshly to them about their legalistic ways, and then turned the law into something life-giving that pointed to God. He healed on the Sabbath. He allowed his disciples to harvest food on the Sabbath. He forgave sin.

Jesus took issue with those who followed the commandments carefully, but didn't grasp the importance of the God-Human relationship. They didn't seem to get it, that the Sabbath requirements (for example) were intended to give life and rest to us humans so that we could be more fully engaged with God in our rest and in our busy-ness ("The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath").

When I look at the religious leaders of Jesus' time, and compare them to myself I would have to say - yes... I am a hypocrite. I'm not overly-concerned with legalistic interpretations of scripture as they were, but I do fail miserably at trying to keep God in the equation of my life at all times. I get wrapped up in the way I see the world, and forget that God has a different perspective.

I have this little booklet that I have kept with me for years. In the 90's when we all carried around Daytimers, it was tucked into the front cover behind my business cards. It now occupies digital space on my smartphone. This little booklet is called, "The Practice of the Presence of God" by Brother Lawrence (Nicholas Herman). If you've ever heard me teach, it's likely you've heard me mention this little booklet. Brother Lawrence was a lay-brother in a 17th century Carmelite monastery in Paris. He did nothing to distinguish himself - in fact he was a kitchen assistant in the monastery, and did his best to remain anonymous. But Brother Lawrence provides for us this amazing testimony of living your life as worship. It is described this way,

When a young man is in love with a girl, he does not think of his beloved every instant if he has important work to do. But his devotion to her permeates all that he does with an overtone, and when a pause comes his mind naturally turns to the loved object; for our minds by their very nature turn ever so swiftly to the point where our treasure is, and they do so without effort.

That same principle is at work if God is your heart's desire. Such is the "practice of the presence of God" of Brother Lawrence. For him, the opportunity to peel potatoes for the brothers was an act of worship. In his second conversation with his scribe, M. de Beaufort, he says that his goal is that the love of God should be "the end of all his actions."

I think that's what Jesus was trying to get across to the scribes and Pharisees. It's not about the potatoes - it's about why you're peeling them. It's not about the Law - doing all the right things at the right times. It's about living a life of communion with our Creator - and doing it through every day actions as well as through spiritual disciplines and rigor.

So yes, I guess I am a hypocrite because I forget, like the scribes and Pharisees, that my motivation for action is worship. I forget to keep God in the equation.