A few weeks
ago I heard a story on the radio about a young woman who has to be about the
most committed environmentalist imaginable. She had visited her boyfriend’s
family for a few days, where she was shocked to discover that his family did
not compost their leftovers. She could not bring herself to put her food in the
trash can, so she hid it for days. She was powerfully committed to making life
better for the planet—but she refused to identify herself as an
environmentalist. The journalist who interviewed this woman made a big deal
about her age and the so-called millennial generation, but the situation was
clearer and simpler than all that. This woman wanted to be an environmentalist
on her own terms, and the name “environmentalist” was beyond her control. If
she couldn’t control it, she didn’t want it.
This woman
is no different than so many other people in this country right now. Americans
love to believe that everything is in our control. We like to believe we have
the upper hand in every situation. Libertarian politicians and their followers
tell us we would be so much better off if we just had a little more control
over our lives. Voters go to polls to try to control a system of government and
then immediately react angrily whenever that government does anything they
don’t like—or pretend to be innocent bystanders when the government does
something everyone knows is wrong. We
lay down the terms and conditions of our participation. We pretend we are each
a little king or queen, a little god or goddess.
It’s not
surprising that we carry this attitude into our churches, too. We hear the
gospel preached, the release from bondage to slavery and idols made possible in
Jesus Christ, and we respond, “Okay, God, I can give you an hour Sunday
mornings—most of the time. And maybe an occasional committee meeting, as long
it’s not more than once a month.” We hear the call of discipleship, and we say,
“I’ll follow Jesus, but there’s going to be some boundaries here. No leaving
the safety of my friends or my beliefs. No ‘ends of the earth’ nonsense; it has
to be local. And forget about the poor, the prisoner, and the stranger; you
can’t trust those folks. Take it or leave it Jesus, but those are my terms.”
I really
don’t know what’s more audacious: that we dare to lay down terms with God in
the first place, or that our conditions are so—pathetic. One hour a week, three
or four times a month, for the God who has crossed every boundary for our sake?
Half-hearted commitments for the God who promises a new creation, free of sin
and tears? Conditional love for the God who loved us while we were his enemies?
We want to be Christians without the church, disciples without the cost,
worshipers without the sacrifice, followers without the leader. We are
lukewarm, and we still believe we have God under our thumb.
Joshua knew
about people like us. Israel has settled into the Promised Land; the people
have, by the grace and power of God, overcome many obstacles and defeated much
stronger nations. Joshua’s own earthly task and his life are coming to an end,
so he sets before them a choice: in this new land will the Israelites serve the
Lord, who delivered them from Egypt and carried them to the Promised Land, or
will they worship the various so-called gods of the people they have defeated?
Joshua offers them a choice: the Lord God, or some idol. And Joshua commits his
own family to the Lord: “as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.”
Just like
us, the Israelites recognize a good deal when they see one. Follow the God who
gave them such sweet new digs? No problem! Who’d want to chase after those
other gods, the ones who were just defeated, anyway? “Far be it from us that we
should forsake the Lord to serve other gods…; we will also serve the Lord, for
his is our God.” Our God? Our God, the God of our ancestors, of Abraham and
Sarah, of Moses and Miriam? Or our God, the one who belongs to us, the one we
can control?
Immediately Joshua realizes he has
made a mistake. He has allowed the people to think Israel can follow God on her
own terms. It’s now their choice; they decide whether or not to serve the
Lord. Today they can decide yes; tomorrow they may change their minds. The
Israelites—they’re just like us. Who would refuse that deal? I’ll show up at
church this week, but next week my schedule is looking really busy! I’ll offer
alms for the poor next month, but this month I have a ball game to attend! A
God who gives us stuff? Who protects
us? A safe God? That’s what we’ve wanted all along! Those are our terms; take
it or leave it, God.
Because insisting on our own terms
has worked out so well for us, right? Relationships on our terms with friends
and family have always worked out, right? We’ve never caused pain for ourselves
or others by doing things our way,
have we? Our way never turns out to
be the wrong way, does it? No. Of course not. A god on our terms? What could go
wrong?
Do we really think that a god on
our terms could deliver the captives out of Egypt? Do we actually believe that
a god who would submit to our conditions would bother to send prophets and
teachers, let alone a son, for our benefit? Would a god under our control have
the power to raise the dead?
Joshua knew better, and when he
sees the enthusiasm of the people of Israel, he knows he must act dramatically.
From his mouth come some of the most chilling words in all of Scripture: “You
cannot serve the Lord, for he is a holy God. He is a jealous God; he will not
forgive your transgressions or sins. If you forsake the Lord and serve foreign
gods, then he will turn to you and do you harm, and consume you, after having
done you good.” Yikes, Joshua! “He will not forgive your transgressions or
sins!” The words shock—and they are meant to shock. Joshua has been around for
a long time. He has witnessed the Lord’s forgiveness over and over. But Joshua
also knows better than to give God terms for his service. Israel now has a new
choice to make: serve God completely or not at all. Serve God even when it
seems like it might be against your best interests, or don’t bother starting
down the path in the first place. The Lord is a holy God; you cannot serve him
on your own terms.
We have all faced this choice at
some point in our lives. You may be facing this choice today. I beg you this
morning: release God from your terms. Lower the boundaries you have built up to
keep God at arm’s length. Follow the God who delivers the captives out of
Egypt. The God who sends prophets and teachers, even his own Son, for us and
for our salvation. The God who cannot be contained by our terms. The God of
Jesus Christ, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Choose this day whom you will
serve; as for me and my household, we will serve the Lord.
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