Rules

I like rules.

I know that’s a weird thing to say. I actually don’t like all rules. I just like MY rules. Some are personality quirks. Some are just preferences. But some are hard and fast guidelines on who I am and how I live that may as well be carved in stone.

Before you call me a Pharisee, please understand that most of these rules have nothing to do with trying to be a better person. It’s really just a backward attempt to simplify my life. If I ‘always’ do this and ‘never’ do that, well, those are two less things I have to think about, two less decisions I have to make.

Here are some examples:

I don’t wear pink.
I don’t run.
I don’t go to ‘parties’ at friends’ houses where people sell stuff.
I don’t order anything new at restaurants, always get the same thing.
I don’t do floors. (Brad and I negotiated this before we got married.)
I don’t raise my hands in worship.
I don’t eat citrus (except tangerines).
I don’t get pedicures (ticklish feet).
I don’t eat at vegetarian/healthy restaurants.
I don’t watch scary movies. (Seriously, I don’t need it.)

Those are just a few. I have many more. Some I’m not even aware of. They were tendencies that became habits that became rules and I didn’t even know it.

And then there are the ‘I’ll nevers.’ We’ve all got those. I think they’re God’s favorites. Not because He likes to spite us. But just because “in their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps” (Proverbs 16:9). His will always trumps my won’t.

I used to have a lot more ‘I’ll nevers,’ but most of them are moot points by now, so I don’t really try to make them anymore. But getting divorced, living in Orlando, marrying a pastor and getting a tattoo were all on that list, if that tells you anything.

But for some reason, lately I’ve begun breaking my own rules. And I have to be honest with you, it’s really fun.

I bought a pink shirt at Target the other day. And I wear it. And I like it.

About a month ago, I decided to take up running. (I think it was a combination of conviction over the weakness of this ‘temple’ that houses the Almighty God and just plain embarrassment that a flight of stairs could leave me winded.) All my friends do it and they love it. They all speak of this hump you have to get over when you start and then suddenly, you want to do it all the time. Well, it’s safe to say I’m over said hump and I now run several times a week, every chance I get. What the crap?

I went to Chick-fil-A for breakfast last week and ordered a fruit bowl instead of a chicken biscuit. (I know. I’m just scaring myself to death here.)

I’ve been occasionally raising my hands in worship. The truth is my family already thinks I’m weird, so I may as well worship how I want to.

I’ve watched a couple creepy movies with Brad because they were in his ‘top ten movies of all time’ list, and we both survived. (Not something I’m going to do on a regular basis, but I can make exceptions.)

I willingly met a friend at one of those healthy restaurants off Park Avenue earlier this week and actually enjoyed it.

I know all this sounds really trivial and silly. But this is how I’ve been living. In my own self-constructed box, putting all these self-imposed restraints on my identity. I have no idea why. Well, maybe I do.

Control.

Oh, don’t we all want it? Don’t we all NEED it? Terrible anxiety and dread typically accompany lack of control. Show me the most controlling person you know and I’ll show you someone who is secretly wracked with fear.

And in case you haven’t noticed, there are a whole heckuva lot of things we can’t control, no matter how hard we try. So the things we can, we do.

But here’s the kicker: The few things I can and do control, I don’t even do that well. I can look at my life, or just the last five years (even the last five MINUTES), and see that that I should, in fact, NOT be the one calling the shots.

God and I have had many conversations about this:

Okay, let Me get this straight. I know everything, you don’t. I’m perfect, you’re not. I see the big picture, you can’t. I’m all powerful, you wish. I know what’s best, you try. But you still want to be ‘in control’? 

Um….yes?

And just to be clear, you know you’re not really in control, right? So we’re both just pretending here.

Yes, please. 

I remember having a dream several years ago. I was on one of those Christopher-Columbus-type schooners in the middle of the ocean. You know, those big ole boats with the huge standing steering wheel. I was on one side of it, pulling hard in the direction I wanted to go. Jesus was standing on the other side, pulling in the other direction. He humored me in a faux tug-of-war for a minute then said very matter-of-factly, “Why do you want to steer? You have no idea where we’re going.”

And of course He’s right. I mean, I know where I want to go. But chances are I haven’t run that by the true Captain of this ship. So with my limited knowledge, perspective and power, I try to make the best decision I can and hope that it doesn’t end in disaster.

Not that any of those petty rules listed above are that big of a deal. I think they only bother God because He knows that after a certain point, I’ll get all claustrophobic and grumpy with all these made-up constraints and He’ll likely be blamed for my restlessness and discontentment.

But I do think the ‘I’ll nevers’ are kind of offensive to Him. Who am I to tell my King what I will and won’t do? As Paul reminds me in 1 Corinthians 6, “You are not your own; you were bought at a price.”

And not a small price either. The King of the universe traded His perfect, holy life for mine. Yet He’s still gracious enough to temporarily tolerate my short-sighted plans and small dreams, just waiting for full surrender so I can live the life I was meant for.

James scolds us in chapter 4 for holding tightly onto our lives, making plans without seeking God first. “Now listen, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.’ Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, ‘If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.’ As it is, you boast in your arrogant schemes. All such boasting is evil.”

Yeesh. I don’t mean to be arrogant or evil, for heaven’s sake. Part of me reads that verse and feels indignant.

Of COURSE, I mean ‘Lord willing.’ That’s just a given. It’s implicit.

Then I feel a gentle prod. Is it? Are you sure that’s what you always mean?

Truth: It’s not. Sometimes I want it to be. Sometimes I don’t. But either way, it’s not what I always mean.

In my Bible study we’ve been talking about shortening the amount of time between God prompting us to do something and us actually DOING it. We agree that the more time that passes, the longer we have to talk ourselves out of it. We decided to do an experiment: Take a week, assume every whim is the Holy Spirit and do it immediately, whatever it is.

It’s been fun to swap stories. The thrill, the terror, the exhilaration of obeying God immediately. The life-changing results. And I just can’t help but wonder if maybe this is how we’re supposed to live all the time. Unleashed. Free. Surrendered.

So God and I get to work on the mess that’s been cluttering the workspace of my heart. As we gradually begin eliminating all the unnecessary constraints I’ve been living by, I make a startling discovery. One huge, ugly rule has been hiding under all the little seemingly harmless ones. We stare at it for a moment together; me shocked and horrified, God knowingly grim.

I don’t trust God with my life.

(Ugh. Looks even worse in print.) I look down and realize I’m bound to that rule by a chain of fear. I ashamedly explain to God how that rule means control and that’s the only safe way for me to live.

That same gentle prod. Is it? Does that chain of fear attached to the illusion of control really keep you safe? Or does it keep you trapped?

I think about my life thus far, the 90% of it in which I’ve been running the show. Was I protected from heartbreak? Broken dreams? Moral failures? Bad decisions? Absolutely not. My way has done nothing to prevent those things.

And so we keep working, the chain on my wrist clinking with every move. The sound grates on my nerves. As we chip away at the little stuff, the larger truth looms below. God isn’t the least bit intimidated by it but I shudder at the thought of what it will take to crack through that boulder.

Thankfully, I believe in a God who delights in moving His children’s mountains and setting captives free.

All I have to do is let Him.