Jessica BriggsThe tradition of faith I grew up in was full of rules- how to dress appropriately, how to treat people in authority, and the longest liturgy of what not to do. No dancing, no alcohol, no this or that. So, I learned the rules and it made me into a near perfect performer. I could act my way into rightness in most scenarios, mostly because I learned the morals of my community. I was a good, Christian girl and I really liked that label.
As I matured into young adulthood, I went through the normal stages of rebellion- nights full of dancing and drinking and playing cards. But by my early twenties I was back on the straight and narrow, operating by those rules that I learned made me right.
Yet the more I followed this rule-making God, the less alive I felt inside. It felt like being paranoid all the time. Did I forget to pray for all the sins I did today? I carried around a god that fit into my spreadsheets and checklists. It heaped guilt on me over and over again when I didn’t read my Bible for 15 minutes a day, or I didn’t write a check tithing exactly ten percent, or I grumbled about someone instead of devoting myself to praying for them.
I handed these rules out to others, too. It was like a pamphlet- come be like me! Just follow these steps and you can find your way to being a good Christian, too.
After a period of feeling discouraged, I began exploring the idea that the Divine isn’t a rule-follower. God is wholly unpredictable. Just when you thought he was going to punish Israel in the Old Testament stories, God would show compassion. Just when you thought, “Surely, Jesus wouldn’t condone sleeping around,” He spoke life-giving, loving words to prostitutes. Just when you thought the Ruler of the Universe would climb off the cross and chastise the onlookers, Jesus died in quiet humility. And even upon His resurrection, He didn’t appear to every government power and authority to be like “look at me now!” Instead, he connected with his beloved friends.
Of course I knew the facts already- Jesus is a relationship, not a religion. I knew he came to fulfill the Law, but how do you be a good Christian without the rule book or the 10 Commandments?
A glimpse of glory tells me that God himself, in all his fullness, exists as Creator. Creativity never comes with a manual. Artists know this to be true- you don’t create within a set of rules; instead you’re always pushing the boundaries to make more beauty. You try and try and remake and rebuild and reimagine things in ways to make beauty shine forth.
I’ve sat in enough Bible studies the past two decades listening to people debate law vs. grace. I’ve heard a litany of reasons why Christ-followers must have moral compasses, to be a good example to the world. But maybe we should give up those pursuits- the bone-exhausting trying and the nitpicking way of judging others and ourselves. Maybe we just need to get messy and create. Throw the rulebooks away and make beauty. Splatter paint colors of love on walls and floors and our clothes and see what emerges.
Beauty attracts wonder more than a book of rules ever will. Beauty makes us see and connect with awe to a loving Creator. Never in my life have I been more enamored by artistry. The skillful violinist dancing across strings that reverberate within my heart. The strokes of painters who have left us masterpieces to gaze upon. The words that flow like honey through poetry into my soul. The smell of a fresh cut orange as you squeeze it into a dish you’re about to savor. The outdoor world with it’s creatures and waters and plant life that we pass by, often without noticing.
There’s beauty everywhere rejoicing, pointing us to Creator if we would only get our heads out of the rule book. We don’t need to fill our buckets full of knowledge to dump on others, showing them how to perform. Piaget once said “Everytime we teach {someone} something, we keep them from inventing it themselves.”
If we want to see a revival, a people passionate about Christ, living out His love and grace, we must stop rule-making. The buzz word in our community is discipleship, but the way we go about discipling is laden with rules. We can’t make mini-disciples who follow the rules exactly how we do. Being right or being wrong is not what the gospel is about. We believe more in tearing down and arguing than we do in the Gospel. We spend our time teaching disciples apologetics, how to have an answer (read:argument) in all seasons. If defending our faith is all we have, then we’ve abandoned the work and worship of Jesus. We have missed the forest for the trees.
Jesus didn’t die to make us his defenders. He died to give us freedom and peace and joy- true beauty. We must follow Jesus’ lead in disciple-making. First, Jesus taught through parable and story, without giving clear cut guidelines, always giving the hearer freedom to make and create and invent. Secondly, Jesus never micromanaged his disciples. He breathed Spirit fire upon them and released them. That fire awakened them to beauty, as we can also awaken to beauty. Awakened, we see the undeniable Truth staring back at us. It’s in the eyes and heart of another human being where beauty exists. We are all worthy of love- a love that’s messy, creative and wonderful. That beauty and love is the only force capable of changing hearts, and thus, the world. May you have eyes to see…
