Just Don't...

The first car I remember my parents owning was a forest green, early 80's, wood-panelled Family Truckster station wagon. My parents were so proud to be driving the same kind of wheels as the Griswalds (of the National Lampoon's Vacation fame). The plush interior, green fake-leather seats and adjustable headrests for the parents, along with an am/fm radio with SIX! programmable buttons for radio stations created a supreme sense of luxury.

My parents would sit like royalty in the front bench seat; we three young kids (my little sister wasn't born yet) would either sit in the back seat or crawl over into the luggage compartment area where we could move around. Because this was before seatbelts, the blessing of not sitting next to my brother or sister was wonderful.

On long trips, though, the luggage area would be jam-packed with necessities for our trip to Wallyworld, and we, the kids, would be crammed like pre-pubescent sardines into the non-airconditioned backseat, heads thrust toward the half-opened safety windows for a breath of fresh air. Sometimes, though, we would get along quite well. Chatting amiably, we three would tell stories and my parents would smile, satisfied at having such nice, well-behaved children riding in the back seat of their station wagon.

Invariably, though, one of my parents would make the mistake to turn their head to look backwards and say, "Oh, it's so nice to see you kids getting along."

I mean, what does a kid do when his parents encourage him about his ability to behave? He misbehaves. Perhaps he thinks: Am I missing something? If they are enjoying my good behaviour, maybe I'm actually supposed to be misbehaving?

Somewhere deep inside me, I know that I want to do exactly the opposite of what my parents tell me. If they say, "Don't throw your peas at the ceiling," I think, Why not? Is there something to be gained by tossing my food above my head?

If they say, "Don't climb onto the roof of the chickenhouse," I think, Why not? Is there something up there that I need to see?

If they say, "Put on your seatbelt," I think to myself, That's just because they're old. I'm too good of a driver. There must be something exhilerating about driving without restraint.

Throughout history, God has given his people commands. This is what a good parent does. They put boundaries on their children because not only do they know what's best for them, but they know what creates healthy relationships. But think about all the times in the Bible when God, knowing what's best for us, says, "Just don't..."

"You can eat of every tree in this garden, just don't eat this one." God points to one in the middle; it looks like it has really nice, juicy fruit, and now that God has pointed it out, that's all I can think about. Maybe God wants to keep all the fruit for himself? Maybe there's something about it, something I'm missing out on if I don't eat it. Maybe God doesn't want to share knowledge.

"Just don't make any other idols for yourself." God knows that there's no life, no power, nothing in things made out of stone from human hands. But now that he has pointed out idols, that's all I can think about. There is something really enticing about worshiping something I've made. I have control over it. Maybe God just doesn't want to share power.

"Don't do anything out of selfish ambition, or vain conceit, but in humility, consider others as more important than yourselves. Everyone should look out not only for their own interests, but for the interests of others." There is something really enticing about living in my own castle surrounded by all the stuff that I've earned. The thought resonates in our egos and we begin to look at others who do not have the same kind of stuff, or ability to get it, and we deem them not as 'capable,' or 'lazy' or 'not as valuable.' Suddenly, humanity is dripping with self-ish ambition, vain conceit and a lethal dose of pride.

God knows that from the moment sin entered the world, the heart of humankind has always been rebellious. Lurking at the core of the human heart is the need to be like God, the need to have power over our environment and our lifestyle.

And this is definitely manifesting itself in 2020. Restrictions from authority have come to us. "Don't touch or even come near other people." What is the first thought that comes to us? But all I can think about is seeing other people now. The government can't tell me what to do. I'll show them. Yesterday afternoon, we witnessed six people who had pulled a container of beer across the street and were playing Finska in the middle of the walking path. Social distancing and isolation didn't seem to apply to them who had little chance of becoming ill from the disease.

"Don't panic." This is the worst of the lot. As soon as this command comes from authorities, people will panic. The captain of a cruise ship begins her message before entering the storm, "Don't panic. Our ship is big enough to withstand this." But everyone panics. Imagine the pilot of an airplane saying, "Don't panic."

Governments who lead with, "Don't panic," have guaranteed it. I hadn't thought about panicking, but if they are telling me that I shouldn't, well there must certainly be something to panic about.

If only governments, nations, churches, people of faith could hear and speak first with these words - this command - from 1 John: God is love and the one who remains in love remains in God and God remains in them. In this, love is made complete with us so that we may have confidence on the day of judgment, because as he is, so also are we in this world. There is no fear in love; instead, perfect love drives out all fear, because fear involves punishment. So the one who fears is not complete in love. We love because he first loved us. If anyone says, 'I love God,' and yet hates his brother or sister, they are a liar. For the person who does not love his brother or sister whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen. And we have this command from him: the one who loves God must also love his brother and sister.    1 John 4:16b-21

The command 'let us love one another' (4:7) is not actually a command, but an invitation. Thus, we don't have to feel the need to rebel from it. The command is an invitation to a fullness of life in community that we may have never felt before.

In 2020, we are invited not with 'Don't do this...' but 'Let's do this. Let's love one another.'

Let's keep physical distance for a while, so that love is shown.

Let's buy groceries for our neighbours as well as ourselves because they are part of the blessed, short existence we have.

Let's hoard our collective joy, hope, love, patience and peace and distribute it unconditionally and freely to a scared world. Let it be more valuable than toilet paper or pasta.

Let's stand together.