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regimen of rituals and rules. He came not to refurbish their religion, but to offer them a relationship. Were

all those healings on the Sabbath, and the recording of them, just a coincidence that he found more sick

people then? Of course not! He wanted his disciples to know that the rules and traditions of men get in the

way of the power and life of his Father.

“And it can be pretty captivating, too, because we all do what we do thinking it pleases God. No prison is as

strong as religious obligation. It takes us captive even while we’re patting ourselves on the back. I walked

past a synagogue yesterday and the rabbi came outside and asked if I could come in and turn some lights on

for him. Someone had forgotten to do it the day before, and he couldn’t do it himself without breaking the

Sabbath.”

“That’s pretty silly isn’t it?”

“To you it might be, and so would some of your rules and rituals seem to him?”

“Some of mine? I don’t do anything like that about the Sabbath.”

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“Of course not, but what if you missed Sunday morning services for a month--just stayed home; or gave your

tithe to the poor instead of putting it in the offering plate?”

“Those are the same thing?”

John nodded.

“Yes, but I do those things not because I think they’re law, but because I am free to.”

“The rabbi would say no different. But if you were honest you’d see that you do them because you believe

they make you more acceptable to God and make him more favorably disposed to you. If you didn’t do

them, you’d feel guilty.”

At the time I didn’t understand all the implications of his words, but I knew he was right. When our church

stopped having Sunday night services a few years back, it really bothered me. I had been to church virtually

every Sunday night of my life and it took me two years before I could sit home without feeling guilty, or

scheduling some kind of fellowship time with people in the church so I’d feel productive.

“That’s why you can never relax, Jake. Even on your day off, I bet you have a hard time just doing nothing.

You feel guilty if you think you’re wasting time.”

As his words were soaking in, another song drifted up the hallway from one of the classes.

Oh be careful little eyes what you see.

Oh be careful little eyes what you see.

For the Father up above is looking down in love,

So be careful little eyes what you see.

“There’s the worst of it,” John said, shaking his head in obvious pain. “I hate hearing little kids sing that

song.”

For a moment I couldn’t figure out what he was talking about. The song was familiar. I had sung it since I

was a child and had taught it to my own children because they enjoyed acting it out. Besides, I hoped

knowing that God would see everything would help them make right choices. “Are you saying there’s

something wrong with that song?”

“You tell me.”

“I don’t know. It talks about the Father’s love for us and his desire to keep us from doing evil.”

“But what does he become in that song?”

“I don’t know what you’re driving at.”

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“It takes wonderful words like ‘Father’ and ‘love’ and turns God into the divine policeman, waiting behind

the billboard with his radar gun. Who wants to grow close to a Father like that? We can’t love what we fear.

You can’t foster a relationship with someone who is always checking your performance to make sure it’s

adequate enough to merit his friendship. The more you focus on your own needs and failures, the more

distant Father will seem to you. Guilt does that. It shoves us away from God in our time of need, instead of

allowing us to run to him, presenting our greatest failures and questions so that we might receive his mercy

and grace. Now we’ve invoked God and his punishment to shore up our sense of what it means to be a good

Christian.

“Do you see a Father here who understands our bent toward sin, who knows how weak we are, whose love

wants to meet us in our sinfulness and transform us to be his children, not based on our efforts but his?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever thought about that.”

“Oh yes you have. Every time you sang it you thought of things your eyes had seen and your ears had heard

that God would disapprove of. It made you feel bad, but feeling bad didn’t make you do any better. So

intellectually you are still thinking of Father’s love, but intuitively you are being distanced from him. That’s

the worst thing that religion does. Who is going to draw near to God if he’s always trying to catch people at

their worst moments, or always punishing them for their failures? We’re too weak for a God like that. We

use guilt to conform people’s behavior, never realizing the same guilt will keep them far from God.”

We had come back to the foyer again. John stopped walking and leaned back against the wall. I stood there

with him for a moment. “No wonder we’re always checking up on people, encouraging them to do the

right thing, and rarely do we spend time helping them understand what it is to relate to a Father who knows

everything about them and yet loves them completely.”

He nodded. “That’s why Jesus’ death is so threatening to those bred in religious obligation. If you were sick

of it, and realized that it alone couldn’t open the doors to the relationship your heart cried out for, the cross

was the greatest news of all. If, however, you made your living or earned your status in the system, the cross

was a scandal. Now we can be loved without doing one thing to earn it.”

“But won’t people misuse that as an excuse to serve themselves?”

“Of course, but just because people abuse something doesn’t make it wrong. If they want to live to

themselves, it doesn’t matter that they claim some kind of false grace. But to people who really want to

know God, he’s the only one who can open the door.”

“That’s why my last few months have been so fruitless?”

“Exactly. Relationship with him is his gift, freely given. The point of the cross was that he could do for us

what we could never do ourselves. The key is not found in how much you love him, but how much he loves

you. It begins in him. Learn that and your relationship will begin to grow.”

“Then most of what we’re doing here is incredibly misdirected. What would happen if we stopped it all?”

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We had come back out now by the sanctuary and the closing song filled the foyer as the ushers threw the

doors open ready for the congregation to exit. Had I been gone that long?

“That really isn’t the issue, is it Jake? I’m talking about your relationship to the Living God, not fixing this

institution. Sure it would make for a drastic change. Instead of putting on a show, we would gather to

celebrate his work in the lives of his people. Instead of figuring out how we can get people to act more

‘Christian,’ we would help people get to know Jesus better and let him change them from the inside out. It

would revolutionize the life of the church and the lives of its people. But it doesn’t begin there,” he said

motioning toward the sanctuary doors, “but here,” as he tapped himself on the chest.

One of the ushers looked over and saw me. “Jake, there you are. Pastor was asking for you during the

service. The sound system kept acting up and he kept calling for you.”

“Oh crud!” I moaned. “I’ve got to go,” I said to John as I dashed through the doors just a step ahead of the

flowing river of humanity.

I didn’t know what happened to John after that, but I knew there had to be some changes in my own life,

and to that Sunday school bulletin board.

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- 4 -

Why Your Promises Haven't Worked

I hate getting up at 6:00 a.m. for a breakfast meeting and having everyone else fail to show up.

This is an accountability group after all.

Five of us formed it after a men’s retreat six months ago promising to hold ourselves accountable to being

good husbands, involved fathers and committed believers. Attendance after the first few weeks had been

sporadic, but today only one other guy showed and he hadn’t been to a meeting in at least two months. In

fact, we’d given up on him.

Bob Miller, one of our council members, only came to tell me afterwards that he and Joyce were separated.

I was hoping Gil Rodriquez would show up because he was the only one I could talk to about my escalating

problems at church, for which I mostly blamed John.

So instead of unburdening myself, I spent the whole time talking about Bob’s separation. He’d been

married to Joyce for over 30 years, raised three children and until that moment I’d thought they were one of

our model couples. Since Bob was one of our council members, I knew this was going to reflect poorly on

our congregation.

Joyce had accidentally stumbled across some pornography on his computer and had been so humiliated she

demanded that he leave. I was sure it was a mistake, but Bob assured me it was not. It was a battle from his

younger years that he had seemingly put behind him. “The Internet just made it too easy,” he confessed. He

didn’t have to risk renting a video or purchasing a magazine in public.

During our conversation I kept hearing laughter across the partition in another section of the restaurant. I

remembered thinking how out of place the laughter seemed with the grief going on right in front of me.

How dare anyone have that much fun this time of the morning around people in so much pain!

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I tried everything I could think of to help Bob fix it, but he said it was impossible. The latest incident was

not the whole problem. Their marriage had been steadily dying since the kids left home and this was only

the last straw in a long string of painful incidents. We finally ran out of time as Bob had to leave for work.

We got up and walked to the cash register to pay our checks. I was seething with anger at the other guys for

not showing up, and at Bob for being such an idiot. As I got change back from the waitress at the cash

register, I looked up to see a familiar face coming out of the rest room. It had been nearly two months since

our tour through the Sunday school wing. Our eyes met and he seemed as genuinely surprised, as was I.

“John? What are you doing here?”

A big smile broke out across his face and he answered with a chuckle in his voice, “Jake, how are you

doing?” He came over and shook my hand.

I tried to introduce him to Bob, but didn’t know John’s last name. “Bob, this is John, a friend I met a few

months ago.” Turning to John, I added. “I’m sorry, I don’t know if I’ve ever heard your last name.”

“John is good enough,” he said shaking Bob’s hand.

Bob smiled back but it quickly gave way to a strained look on his face. “Are you the...?” Then turning to me

he started again, “Is this the guy...?” He stopped again fumbling awkwardly.

I was afraid of what he’d say next and gave him my best, please-be-careful face. “Is this the guy that got you

into all that trouble?”

I looked at John sheepishly as he turned towards me. “I wouldn’t put it that way.”

“Maybe it was someone else,” Bob glanced at his watch, announced that he was late for work already and

with a wave was quickly out the door.

“I’m surprised to see you.” I turned back to John.

“I had breakfast with an old friend this morning. He had to leave and I’ve still got almost an hour before my

bus departs.” He nodded in the direction of the bus depot down the street.

“Where are you headed?”

“I have a meeting upstate this evening.”

“Were you going to look me up?”

“I obviously didn’t need to, Jake. I really didn’t have much time to arrange anything, but if you want to join

me at my table, I’ve got some time now.”

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I followed him across the room and sat down at the table in the corner where all the laughter had come

from earlier. “Was that you laughing so hard over here, or was that another table?” I asked, sizing up the

room.

“Oh, that was Phillip! I wish I’d known you were here because I want you two to meet; perhaps in a future

trip. He’s on a similar journey to yours, and he’s just surfaced from some painful and deep waters. He’s just

like a kid splashing around the summer pond. His joy is even more infectious than his laugh.”

“I’m glad someone is having fun,” I said, the sarcasm dripping from my lips.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s been horrible since I last saw you and this morning really topped it off. No one showed up for our

accountability group except Bob who hadn’t been with us for a long time. He only came to tell me he and

his wife are separated because she found some pornography on his computer. He’s a leader at the church,

too. What a mess!”

“You seem really angry.”

“This is going to hurt the church.”

“Is that why you’re angry at him?”

That was the first time that morning I stopped to think how I felt about Bob. I had been so upset with his

separation and how it would affect the church, I really hadn’t thought about Bob.

“I didn’t think I was mad at Bob. I was mad at his failure and...”