Other Sheep

When it comes to the qualifications for becoming a spiritual giant, God seems to be less uptight than humans.  Every one of the great patriarchs of biblical faith I can think of had a huge dark side.  There were murderers (Moses, David, Paul), liars (Abraham), womanizers (David, Solomon), cowards (Gideon), hypocrites (Peter) – you get the idea.  What’s more, God was not afraid to put their faults and sins right out front for all to see.

Today, the religious population seems to want their leaders to maintain a certain level of near perfection.  An occasional self deprecating amusing anecdote followed by a chuckle is allowed, so long as everything else, including the hair, is in place.  We don’t come right out and tell them to keep their troubles to themselves… we seem to really believe they don’t exist.

The Bible says that every temptation is “common” to the human race.  Why, then, would anyone think that their pastor, priest, rabbi, spiritual teacher, friend, etc. is any better than they are?   Even more sickeningly, why does the religious system continue to perpetuate the “us and them” mentality that some people are better – therefore more valuable to God – than others?  Personally, I can handle a spiritual leader with problems, but I cringe at those who act like they have no problems.

In addition to being low-lifes of every form, the truly great men and women have always had something else in common: the ability to admit their shortcomings before God and others, and plead for strength to turn their lives around.  God always responds… with forgiveness, restoration, and new direction.

How refreshing it would be if leaders within the community of faith admitted that they are mere humans like the rest of us.  That while trying to emulate the strengths of the great heroes before them, they also struggle and fall like their predecessors.  Sadly, some devotees would probably go searching for more perfectly green pastures.  Others, however, just might rise out of their depressed, trodden down states, lift their eyes from looking at the ground, and see the wide open arms of God and the fully accepting smile on His face.

(NOTE: In the time it took me to write this, I committed at least a dozen sins in my mind while just sitting on a sofa.)

One of the Psalms says “I came so close to the edge of the cliff!  My feet were slipping, and I was almost gone.” 

I’ve been there… to the place where temptations seem so strong that I’m sure I won’t be able to resist them, and everything I’ve lived for will be wiped away; or where doubts and fears enter my mind and I wonder if it’s all a myth.

In those times, the only thing I can do is be honest with God.  In fact, another Psalm describes just that:  “I cried out, “I’m slipping!” and your unfailing love, O Lord, supported me.”

So far, admitting my struggles – either in quiet contemplation or by shaking my fist in the air with screams – has brought His love and support.  The edge of the cliff, for me at least, is a great place to meet God.

I feel sorry for God.  At least you’d think so if you could read my mind.  I’m always trying to bail Him out of tough situations, as if He needs my help to avoid embarrassment.

Let’s say I’m asking God to give an unemployed friend a job.  I always make sure to include caveats in my request – “Of course You know best, Lord.  Maybe you have something better for him down the road.”  That way, if my friend never gets a call after the interview, it’s not God’s fault and my prayer can be checked off as “Answered.”  It’s win win.

And then there’s the technique of spiritualizing everything.  This is the one where I pray that he gets the job, but I remind God that my friend’s spiritual condition is more important than a paycheck.  So, job or no job, as long as my friend keeps his chin up (at least in public), God’s reputation remains intact.

Years ago, I gave God an even bigger escape route by blaming unanswered prayers on my own and others’ lack of faith.  I’ve since abandoned that line of thinking (though I still have many questions.)  It was tidy while it lasted, though.

Certainly it’s right to remember that God’s ways are not our ways.  Even Jesus included the phrases “if it is Your will,” and “nevertheless, not my will, but Yours be done” in one of His most famous prayers.  Still, Jesus wasn’t afraid to lay His request out there in no uncertain terms: “Father, let me avoid the crucifixion.”

God doesn’t need me to bail Him out by craftily telling Him things He already knows.  It’s probably better for me to take the approach that Jesus took… express my heart and quit trying to rescue God.  He’ll do what’s best regardless.  And if that doesn’t meet with my approval, I’ll just admit that I don’t understand and keep loving Him anyway.