If you love Me, you will obey what I command. John 15:1
These words, from anyone but God, would be manipulative and dangerous. But His ownership of me warrants such a preserving love.
It’s not that He’s saying to me, Do everything I command to prove that you love Me.
In that lies the essence of all religion. It tries to earn love and acceptance. It always strives to lay hold of temporary accomplishments and struggles to stay above water. It is often content with crumbs because the real food of life seems desperately out of reach. It camps inside the sombre lines looking longingly out at what is forbidden, not wanting to risk the loss of its rickety shelter or suffer the searing shame of being discovered; falling prey to many border crossing escapades when it thinks no one is looking.
I know—my abandoned tent pegs are probably still stuck in the ground there.
But He wasn’t saying that. He wasn’t soliciting mindless allegiance–a dynasty of drones.
He was saying,
Obedience follows love for Me the way goslings are glued to their mother.
Obeying Me is the geyser that gushes out of a heart bursting with love for Me.
A heart that loves Me has no other flame to warm itself with in this cold, dark world—and it will stoke its fires often.
His is not a call to die under a dictatorship, but an invitation to live in freedom from religious works.
Free to be me, in His love,
opens the way to living in submission.
But Naaman left in a rage, saying, “I thought that he would at least come out to me, pray to the Lord his God, wave his hand over the diseased spot, and cure me!” (2 Kings 5:11)
Rage is a voracious devourer. Erupting from the molten madness within, it spews red-hot lava into the atmosphere, consuming every living thing in its insatiable appetite. It makes volcanoes of us all—desolate mountains of destruction.
No one wants to live near a volcano. People don’t scour the housing ads for property near the bottom of a smouldering hill. Orchards don’t grow in its wake.
Bubbly springs don’t nourish the soil, and flowers don’t fence it in. It is a self-righteous fountain of fury, fed by wrong thinking. I thought … he would wave his hand over the diseased spot and…
If we trust in our own thinking it will eventually let us down.
I thought my marriage would last forever… I thought my healthy lifestyle meant I would never get cancer… I thought my children were going to come back home… I thought I would have a husband by now…
And when it does, we can choose to be filled with rage and sentence ourselves to barren captivity, or…
So Naaman went down to the Jordan, dipped himself in it seven times, as Elisha had instructed, and he was completely cured. His flesh became firm and healthy like that of a child. (Verse 14)
Our feeble thinking was never meant to be the framework for what we believe. We are always learning, being changed, and seeing things from new perspectives. If we lean on what we think is right today, tomorrow it may be a broken fence post crumbling beneath the weight of our insecurities.
Naaman eventually chose to trust God, and even though what God wanted him to do was absurd and humiliating…to him, it was what he needed to do; it’s what we need to do to get to a place where we can receive what God wants us to have.
Trusting God sometimes seems childish, foolish, and humiliating in seasons of distress—but it is the only sure way to breathe wellness and life back into a dying landscape.