Walking the Line

It can be a fine line between freedom and bondage; between healthy and unhealthy. It's one thing to fight for freedom, to reject conformity and religious bondage. It's quite another thing to pridefully and stubbornly separate yourself for separation's sake.

I've camped out in a lot of this tension since moving here. The line I'm walking is the difference between two choices. The first option is to politely say no to another man's yoke and continue on my way without offense. The second option is to feel threatened - to stand far off clinging to my precious rights and my bitterness - pointing fingers at everyone else. There has been much overlap here. There are days when I preserve a tenderness before God, and then there are days when I play the part of the older brother in the prodigal story. Sometimes I manage to hold my tongue, and other times I let loose sharp words hoping for shock value; for attention-getting and for boat-rocking.

The past few days, the Lord has been taking me by the hand and pointing my finger back towards myself - back where it belongs. "Christian Culture" is not the problem (it is so tempting to believe this). The Church could get a global make-over in methodology and theology and it wouldn't change how I feel. How could it? The Church does not own the truth. God owns truth. Truth is a man named Jesus. And Truth is what has the potential to offend and to cut deeply. At the end of the day, my feelings of tension are directed towards this Offensive Man, this stumbling block on whom I must daily fall.

I believe He is faithful to keep shining this spotlight on my heart day after day. He is graciously and patiently dealing with me now, in these years of merciful calm before the storm.