Bumper Car Faith

Ecclesiastes 8:11 says this: "Because the sentence against an evil deed is not executed quickly, therefore the hearts of the sons of men among them are given fully to do evil."

For a while, David operated in the same way. Until held accountable.

It's an interesting dynamic: this preoccupation with reading God's "response" to a sin - whether He's swift or silent - as punishment or permission.

In Isaiah 57:11, God frames His question to man like this: "'Was I not silent even for a long time so you do not fear Me?'"

But for one who functions with that "bumper car" mentality, proceeding in a direction until sent flying backwards, the internal contemplations come something like this:

Psalm 10:13 "He has said to himself, 'You will not require it.'"

Zephaniah 1:12 "'...who say in their hearts, "The LORD will not do good or evil!"'"

Psalm 94:7 "They have said, 'The LORD does not see, nor does the God of Jacob pay heed.'"

Ezekiel 8:12 "'For they say, "The LORD does not see us; the LORD has forsaken the land."'"

It strikes me as a sad state in which to live, because so wholly defiant of God, pushing it to the limit, until something else speaks to the conscience and causes a new aim and compliance. Why is the moral compass left on default? Why is that kind of curtailing the only boundary or guideline, when a deliberate aim at holiness would be so much fuller a manner to live?

Part of it comes from not fearing God [Ps. 36:1], but another aspect could easily be that there's a lack of intentionality. One song lyric puts it like this: "Am I doing everything to follow Your will, or just climbing aimlessly over these hills?" ("Whatever You're Doing (Something Heavenly)"/Sanctus Real).

Second Peter outlines so much more. There is even a list in the first chapter, from verses 5 through 7 (ex. faith, moral excellence, knowledge, self-control, perseverance, godliness, brotherly kindness, love). But even larger is the motivation behind those qualities; for we pursue them not for the sake of possessing them, or for flaunting some religious superiority/purity, but rather, in the reverent acknowledgment of the preceding verses. From verses 3 and 4 we read, "...seeing that His divine power has granted to us everything pertaining to life and godliness, through the true knowledge of Him who called us by His own glory and excellence. For by these He has granted to us His precious and magnificent promises, so that by them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped the corruption that is in the world by lust."

Were we to spend the rest of our life offering up these souls and bodies as living sacrifices, that would be 'an offering far too small' for the full deliverance and free pardon of which we have become partakers. We wouldn't see our obligation to God as a perfunctory resonance with His punishment, and redirection. We would seek heartily after His ways, and all that delights Him, because our hearts would be turned toward Him in a way that recognized with a bowed-down humility that we are nothing; that we, who corrupted ourselves most willingly, and set ourselves on a path of destruction, were saved from God's holy wrath.

And perhaps we would no longer see ourselves as having the "liberty" to exercise our sinfulness because not immediately "caught." Perhaps then our cry would be more akin to Ezekiel's, when he - in full understanding that 'all things have been created through Him and for Him' (Col. 1:16) - proclaimed, "'O LORD... You are God in Israel and... I am Your servant'" (1 Ki. 18:36).

O, Conviction!

(When the words "I love You" ring wincingly false) --

If I truly loved You...
...I would never count my losses more than Your own;
...I would seek what You desired;
...I would align myself fully with what You have sought.

If I truly loved You...
...my first concern would be Your thinking;
...my only consideration would be Your pleasure;
...my last thought would be of "self."

If I truly loved You...
...I wouldn't question Your devotion to me, or shrink back in fear;
...I wouldn't turn in faithlessness each time You asked me something difficult;
...I wouldn't justify my "self" and fight for my own ways and cause You grief with my disbelief in Your kindness.

If I truly loved You...
...I would lean wholly on Your Name;
...I would keep focused on Your plan;
...I would risk freely, give lavishly, and live unreservedly.

If I truly loved You...
...I would not have my eyes fixed on the present;
...nor would I complain about hardship;
...nor would I count anything but loss for the sake of knowing You.

If I truly loved You...
...Your nearness would be all I cared for;
...Your contentment and favor, all I strived to attain;
...Your quiet rest upon me, my delight.

If I truly loved You...
...I wouldn't turn my back on You with a callous, abrasive stance;
...nor lash out at You from distrust over Your motives;
...nor seek other things in place of You.

If I truly loved You, as You rightly deserved; as I'd ought...
...I would live poured out, broken down, held back for nothing;
...I would give wantonly, heedlessly, and abounding with joy;
...I would worship reverently, patiently, and with no demands to be found.

...I would be stripped of all pride, conquered in all flesh,
unburdened of every sin;
...I would be genuine when I neared You, calm when You delayed me, submitted when You required more;
...I would be open without condition; softened at all times;
ready for Your employ at every turn.

If I truly knew how to love You...
...this life would no longer have any mark of my scratching for ownership;
...this soul would no longer be wearied with sighs of self-pity;
...this heart would no longer justify itself in pursuing self-will.

If I truly understood, if it ever came naturally...
...I would be a different creature:
conformed and compliant;
refashioned and reformed;
endowed with Your nature in such a way
that all of the hurting of this world could not stain or mar,
but could only cause to pour forth all the more heavily
the kind of love, Your kind,
which bleeds for the brokenness of the unbeliever,
and yearns for the wayward home,
and would give up any personal gain
for the restless soul to be set free.

O, that I could love You!