Oh, Snap!

Deal with your servant according to your love and teach me your decrees. I am your servant; give me discernment that I may understand your statutes. Psalm 119:124-5

So, tempers scare me. Always have. I think part of the problem was growing up with a father with an arbitrary temper. It took a lot to get him to the point of anger, but once there, whoo - watch out!

I was such a brat as a kid. For some reason, I just loved to tease that line of his sanity. Push. [Nothing.] Push, push. [Stone cold.] Push. Nudge. [Poker face.] Push, push, pu – [BANG!] And there he went past the point of no return.

One story retold often in my family occured when I was around 5 years old and feeling lucky (punk). My family and I were sitting at the table eating hotdogs for dinner. Apparently I was in a foul mood. I turned to my dad and said, “Pass the mustard.” “Pass the mustard, what?” he sing-songed back. “Pass the mustard, now,” I sneered. He turned, looking at me calmly: “You either say it right, or you can go upstairs and not eat at all.” I looked at him straight in the eye, western shoot-out style cool, concluding, “Well, I guess I’m going upstairs.”

Immediately, anger exploded on his face. He lept up from his chair and chased me to my room. Needless to say, my rear was not happy with my choice of words and reminded me of that every time I sat down for several days afterwards.

Granted, I brought that one on myself. But sometimes his temper flared in the most unexpected of circumstances. And my brother and I always knew we'd crossed that fatal line when the dreaded sign appeared - the ominous extension of the pointer finger in our direction, slowly turning and curling in “come hither” fashion. And my brother and I would play innocent, looking at one another and back at him in scared confusion, like the SNL Roxbury brothers when asked to dance at the club, “Him? Me? Me, him? Him? Me?” And then the heavy finger would more specifically select the unlucky perpetrator who would tarry a bit, wringing their hands, bowing their head and slowly walking towards their doom, all the while espousing last minute appeals for a political pardon: “Gee, daddy, I’m sorry. I love you. It’s ok. Please, I won’t do it anymore. I promise. You’re the best dad ever!” But he would have none of it. Ears deaf to our pleas of forgiveness, once set into motion, his wrath needed to be avenged.

So, like my dad, God has a duel nature. He is love and He is just. Unlike my dad, God's love and justice are perfect. Scripture says that God is slow to anger, abounding in love. But I think sometimes in my all out ignorance (or sometimes blatent disobedience), I can prime the holy justice of even our utmost patient and compassionate God.

I've been reading Dark Night of the Soul by St. John of the Cross. The first half of the book discusses mistakes many new believers make in their journey. One of the chapters talked about how new Christians who are feeling confident in their journey often start getting puffed up with spiritual pride and presumption, vanity and arrogance. St. John says that many times they lose their holy awe and instead become bold with God. I felt convicted by that. It seems like an easy trap to fall into. Now, I know that boldness itself isn't a bad thing. Scripture says we can walk confidently toward God with all requests and questions and complaints. But I've found out the hard way that approaching boldly without humbling myself can soon evolve to irreverence or even sacrilege.

When I began to go to church, I had a Christian coworker who bought me my first bible and tons of books to read. And every Monday morning, we discussed the sermon from church on Sunday. I also wrote a lot of stories to process my feelings. Having ideas down in black and white seems to help me understand concepts better. When I was feeling particularly brave, I would share them with her.

I had written one blurb about how dumb I felt using Christian “lingo”. Adapting this Christian-ese made me feel like a poser (and as a child of the 80’s, being thought of as a poser is so “gag-me-with-a-spoon!”) I included a list of words in my story that made me blush when I said them outloud…words like testimony, witness, things like that. She smirked as I read. I had also included some reference in scripture - Holy of Holies, King of Kings, Prince of Peace, Risen One, etc. As I read those names out loud in the story, I again felt silly and “churchy” and was starting to laugh in embarassment. But when I looked up, her face looked stricken. Giving her full credit for knowing my words were coming from ignorance and not intentional attack, she quietly but firmly said to me, “April, some of those words I guess I can understand, but what I can’t understand is your being embarrassed to say the names of the Lord. Those are all descriptive words of our Savior and laughing at them is a little too close to blasphemy for my tastes. I know you don’t truly realize what it is you are saying, but I’d like you to take some time and think about why those words are funny to you.”

Immediately I felt socked in the gut. Not in a “Man, I just made a social faux pas and now she thinks I'm stupid!” kind of way. But a, “Wow, just I crossed the line and God sure got my attention!” kind of way. As if God, with His mighty hand and outstretched arm, had pointed right at me, slowly curling up that index finger to come, come closer, so we could talk. I wanted to fall face down, prostrate, penitent, and crawl toward God, reverting back to my 5 year old self, begging, “Gee, Daddy, I’m sorry. I won’t do it anymore. I promise!"

There has been a few other times since then when my logorrhea has gotten me into trouble, where I felt like I had just crossed the border of God's invisible electric fence. And in each case, I felt like His firm rebuke reigned me back in to legal territory.

My father would often tell me after a spanking, "Now, you know I had to punish you." And I never understood that. I would think to my childhood self, "No! You didn't have to do anything!" But some sort of discipline (dolled out with an agenda of love and guidance) is necessary to equip all children properly for their future. As I learn more, I can see why my comments would dishonor God and therefore why they need to be evaluated. I can appreciate Him instructing me by setting more detailed boundries for the future. Not with a punishing spanking, but with correcting and directing mercy.

Hebrews 12:8-10 says: If you are not disciplined then you are illegitimate children and not true sons. Moreover, we have all had human fathers who disciplined us and we respected them for it. How much more should we submit to the Father of our spirits and live! Our fathers disciplined us for a little while as they thought best; but God disciplines us for our good, that we may share in his holiness. And in the same way, God disciplines us for our good, that we may share in His holiness when we are fully mature.

So, yes, even His discipline is for my good. I just wish I could forsee the triggers to His holy temper before getting into any more hot water. :)