The Cowardice of Obedience

Compliance isn't ( necessarily ) a Virtue

I was at some conference, years ago.

Something about eschatology - end times - and the Armageddon. You know, the easy stuff.

And I remember hearing this story, about a guy who cheated on his wife. One of the speakers was sharing it, as a kind of apocalyptic warning.

See, he said there was this guy - an all American type. The kind of kid you wish you had, the kind of friend you hope for, the husband and father of your dreams.

From a young age he was a success. Grew up in the church, knew the answers, always sat still in during the sermon.

School and home were the same. Coloured inside the lines, knew his arithmetic, and always ate his veggies.

Time passed, and our hero gets taller, more handsome, and he’s sharp as a tack. Passes school with honours, teaches in Sunday School and Youth Group - the poster boy for a young man.

He goes away to school, and stays on the straight and narrow - sights set on being a doctor.

And the thing is, this guy is also popular.

People love him.

And at uni he gets involved in the Christian Group and he starts leading it, and wouldn’t you just know it - it thrives. The kind of growth church leaders wish they had, the kind they stretch their own numbers into. The doubling and tripling kind of thing.

And our boy, well, as fate would have it, he finds his gal. The girl of his dreams. And she’s beautiful, and they’re sweethearts. Hallmark card kind of mushy love.

And everything is going the same way it always has for him, up and to the right. Steady growth.

Honours in his undergrad, scholarships and the like for med school.

His gal, well, they’re engaged.

And as he leaves the ever blossoming christian club, he is welcomed with open arms into leadership at the church he is going to.

Shortly into med school, wedding bells ring, and our two sweethearts run head over heels into holy matrimony.

Med school is a breeze, and as he finishes up, prepping to walk the stage, shake the hands, and put MD before his name on everything, our man finds out there’s a proverbial bun in his wife’s metaphorical oven.

They’re pregnant.

And at just the right time, he’s got a job at a private clinic, red carpet, kind of thing. Silver spoon sort of vibe.

They buy a nice house, a great car, and settle into the American Dream - white picket fence and all.

And it’s years like this. A few more kids, his own practice, leading and teaching at church. The kinda guy you can depend on.

And then one day, this prof says, as he’s telling the story, a call comes in.

The prof used to be a pastor, and when the phone rings in the office, heavy news comes whispered through the receiver.

The hero had fallen.

He cheated on his wife.

It rips the family apart, it devastates the church, the leadership is confused and in turmoil.

It’s hard to pick up the pieces, to make it all come back together, and so, our hero - he runs away. Picks up and moves town - hell out of dodge, type thing.

And one day, this pastor-prof tells us, he is driving with a friend of his, a friend who was on church staff, off to some pastor’s gathering, and his friend is asking all kinds of questions:

“How could this happen?”

that’s what the friend asks.

And there’s this emphatic silence, the kind that you can feel on your skin, the pressure in your chest - the kind you want to cut with words, to make it lighter.

“It was the first time he ever had to obey.” That’s what the pastor-prof says.

“It was the first time he ever had to make a hard choice, and he failed.”

He’s telling us that all those other things he did in life, that they came easy. School and church, popularity, charm, looks - he was the whole package. And he got all kinds of rewards, praise, for fitting in.

The more he complied with these rules and expectation, the more success he had.

But when that girl came into his office, the one needing his help, beautiful, the one who came onto him, batted eye-lashes, low cut tops, lingering touches - well, that threw him for a loop.

He said “yes” for the first time.

Everything else was mindless, was superficial.

All the other little obediences, they were his cowardice. Acquiescence.

Jesus has a parable about this, I’m sure of it.

Prophetic Warnings for the Last Days

He tells us this story and I get the feeling it hits everyone the same way it hit me.

Is my obedience real?

Or is it some horrible cocktail of my need to be accepted, my fear of admitting who I am, my cowardice to say yes.

That was years ago, that I heard this story, and it popped into my head, last night driving home.

Ransom is in the back seat, and I’ve been trying to teach him, in small ways, that not every rule needs to be followed - only the good ones.

I’m not interested in raising a coward; I’m not sympathetic to mindless compliance.

These are vices.

Weaknesses.

And last night, when I’m driving home, as Ransom and I sing along to Johnny Cash, I can’t help but shake the feeling that the church is a wimp factory.

Mass produced push-overs.

Catechized cry-babies.

The kinds of people who only colour inside the lines, who only believe the right thing, who only remain ethical because they’re afraid.

I met a guy like that when I met at the bank.

We were out for beers and he tells me, after one too many, the only reason he doesn’t cheat is because he’s afraid he’ll get caught.

And I think Jesus says something about that, too.

There is not a single saint who is also a wimp.

Saints have learned to say yes, and because of that, they’ve learned to say no.

They don’t say yes to whoever shouts the loudest, to whatever the current ethos deems good, or to whoever pays them off.

Saints say yes to their King.

And because of that, they must be courageous.

There’s lots of lines to colour outside of, lots of tables to flip, lots of mess in the margins.

If you say yes to Christ, that means you stand with an emphatic no to everything that is anti-christ.

And, man, is that a lot to say no to.

Not just in your head, and not just in your heart, but out loud and alive.

There’s really no middle ground.

No half way.

You, and I, are either cowards or we are not.

You, and I, will learn to say no, with our whole body, to the world, the flesh, and the devil - or we will not.

And I fear that we have only obeyed because it has been easy. Only said yes to God because everyone else has, too.

Why?

Part of it is anecdotal - it’s just my experience.

The other part of it is from watching, observing.

I’ve seen the trends; I’ve watched churches and leaders move the goal posts, I’ve seen the institutions acquiesce to the ethics of darkness.

I’ve seen the blows soften, I’ve seen the truth stifled, I’ve seen lights being put under bushels.

We don’t want to be rejected.

We want a place at the table of ideas.

None of us craves hatred.

But they hated Jesus, and trust me, if the world hated Jesus, my guess is, it’ll hate us, too.

I think Jesus said something about that.