The commanding officer of my soul

“Having brought the apostles, they made them appear before the Sanhedrin to be questioned by the high priest. ‘We gave you strict orders not to teach in this name’ he said.... Peter and the other apostles replied: ‘We must obey God rather than men!’” Acts 5:28-29

(To see today's entire text – Acts 5:27-32 – click here.)

Stop and think ... when is the last time you heard the word, “obey,” in conversation?

“Obey” is a tough notion for us, a concept progressively out of favor. Offensive ... humiliating ... oppressive ... that’s how our world sees it. Passé, really. Irrelevant. Ludicrous! For “obey” suggests that at least some aspect of our being is subject to the will of someone else; it leaves us something short of “I am the master of my fate...”¹  And ... we ... don't ... like it!

Instead, our human nature is a place where “I am the captain of my soul,”¹ and where “Feeling” ranks as first lieutenant. We rely on its counsel above all others, even when Feeling is openly insubordinate to our commanding officer, Truth.

There’s an interesting example in Mark 1:40-45. One day, Jesus cured a man from leprosy and then, curiously, “sent him away with a strong warning: ‘See that you don’t tell this to anyone.’” Instead, the man – understandably excited – “went out and began to talk freely, spreading the news.” Jesus had said “don't tell,” but this man told, his feelings dissuading him from the command of the One who had authority even over leprosy! And we might feel our way along to the leper’s justification! After all, spreading the news is a good thing, isn’t it? But there were lasting consequences to his disobedience that day: “As a result, Jesus could no longer enter a town openly but stayed outside in lonely places.”

Peter and the apostles were also under orders, two sets of them, actually. Jesus had told them to go out and make disciples, baptizing them and teaching them all he had commanded. The religious leader’s imperative, however, was the opposite, charging them not to speak or teach at all in the name of Jesus (see Acts 4:18). And now the apostles stood before the high priest and the Sanhedrin because they had obeyed the higher authority – the commanding officer – on the matter. “We gave you strict orders not to teach in this name...” the rulers complained. The apostles’ response? “We must obey God rather than men!” And their obedience had produced results, for the Sanhedrin even told them, “... you have filled Jerusalem with your teaching ...” (Not bad!)

Both the leper in the first instance and the apostles in the second were under commands from Jesus. And being human, they all had strong feelings ... they were all enthusiastic. The difference was that the apostles, at least in this case, obeyed, aligning their will and their passion under the authority of Jesus, who is Truth.

Likely, we’ve all experienced both scenarios, frustrated at times and buoyed at others. So how do we consistently subject our feelings to God's truth and his authority? We stay close to him, talking with him in prayer and listening to him through his word. Then when we recognize that familiar voice of Christ in us, ours is simply to say, "yes." Day by day; moment by moment.

For as Peter told the Sanhedrin, God gives his Holy Spirit to those who obey him. And that includes us.

¹ From "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley

The Heart of the Leper

Watching thankfulness is a great spectator sport!  It’s fun, touching and heartening, all at the same time.  A smile that lights up a face ... a tear on a cheek ... a pause to absorb an expression of love ... arms thrown around a neck ... a squeal and a jump for joy.  True thankfulness cannot be contained in our spirits alone, but always seeks physical release.  Nor is it an obligation we begrudgingly dispatch, rather a natural response that pours forth from within us in both humility and joy.

When it comes right down to it, we are most grateful when we have received grace, an unexpected kindness.  But we're not always thankful ...

One day as Jesus was heading into a village, ten lepers called out to him, asking for pity on their condition.  At his instruction, they went to show themselves to the priests and, along the way, all of them were healed.  Yet only one returned to throw himself at Jesus’ feet and give, in exchange, a precious gift of his own – praise and thanksgiving from his heart to his God, his healer.  Surely, all ten men went home happy that day, but only one was thankful.

So Paul reminds us to be mindful of God's grace, as well, “And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him (Colossians 3:17).”   

Like the ten lepers, we have received grace.  Like the one leper, may we give, in return, our all.

“What language shall I borrow
     To thank thee, dearest friend,
For this thy dying sorrow,
     Thy pity without end?

O make thee thine forever,
     And should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never
     Outlive my love to thee.”

St. Bernard of Clairvaux