My roommate, Tim, has a dog named Chianti. She’s a black lab and not the brightest dog in the world. But she’s nice and sweet, if not a little simple. Two weeks ago Chianti got bit or scratched by something on her face. It started out as just a little wound but she continually scratched it and licked it; the wound began to grow and get infected. Pretty soon, after all the attention she paid it, the wound had grown and Chianti had a big open sore on the side of her face. After a week, it wasn’t healing; it was getting worse. Tim went to the pet store and got some wound treatment spray and, the greatest fear of every dog, the satellite dish.
Chianti is not a big fan of the satellite dish. It limits what she wants to do.
She wants to scratch, but she can’t.
She wants to jump into her chair, but she can’t.
She wants to eat everything in sight, but she can’t.
She is limited in what she can do but it is for her own good. Tim knows what’s best for Chianti, even if Chianti can’t understand. And the worst part about the satellite dish was, when we first put it on, she looked up at us with the biggest puppy dog eyes. It was like she was asking us what she had done wrong. She had the face of a dog that was being punished only she couldn’t understand why. The reality is that Chianti isn’t being punished; we are just looking out for her own good because she can’t do it on her own.
Sometimes I view God’s laws and commandments the same way Chianti views the satellite dish. I see God’s laws as restricting, keeping me from doing all the things that I really want to.
If there’s somewhere I want to go, God’s laws tell me I can’t.
If there’s something I want to do, God’s laws tell me I can’t.
If there’s something I want to pursue, God’s laws tell me I can’t.
God’s laws limit me but it’s for my own good. God loves me and understands what’s best for me even if I don’t. I may not give God puppy dog eyes, but sometimes I wonder why he’s keeping me from doing all of these things that I want to do, all of these things that seem so fun and natural; sometimes I feel like the Christian life is a punishment. God isn’t actively punishing me, though; he’s actively loving me. God is looking out for my own good because I can’t do it on my own.
Humanity is stained with sin and, left to our own devices, we’ll just sit there and scratch it and lick and pander to it. Sin is like an initial wound that can grow, it can get infected and consume our lives; eventually, if left unchecked, our lives will just become one big, open sore. God’s laws keep us from scratching and picking at the wound. Ultimately, the wound can only be healed by the grace and forgiveness of Jesus Christ brought through his death on a cross and resurrection three days later. But God’s laws help us to keep the wound in check while we wait for Christ’s return and our new glorified bodies, free from the stain of sin.
God knows that humanity is stained with sin; he knows we’re a rebellious lot. The things God tells us to do and not to do help provide boundaries in which we can live the lives that God originally intended for us. God didn’t intend sin; it wasn’t in the original plan. Sin has so broken humanity, though, that we think sin is normal and righteousness is the abnormality. Sin is unnatural; righteous lives lived according to God’s will, that is natural, that is what we were created for. And the satellite dish of God’s laws help us to catch a glimpse of the natural life God intended for us.
God is not punishing us.
God is not keeping us from those things which seem fun and natural.
God knows what’s best and he’s helping us live the lives for which we were created.
When have God’s laws helped you live the life for which you were created?
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