The Law--Not a Reputation

     Sometimes you hear people say, “I’ve never broken the Ten Commandments,” implying (even if it were true) that the commandments are a measure of righteousness. The scribes and Pharisees certainly used them in this way. How well you kept the rules showed how holy you supposedly were: this built up their reputations, which they highly prized. Jesus said to them, “you love the places of honor…” (Luke 11:43, 14:7, 20:46; Matt 23:6). His disciples also struggled with this, wanting to sit at his right and left hands in the kingdom (Mk 10:37, Matt 20:21).

     But Jesus didn’t come to give us a reputation, as the Pharisees used the Law for. Isaiah says this about the suffering servant, “he was despised, and we esteemed him not”  (Is 53:3). He was a man of no reputation, as Rich Mullins sang. We did not esteem him means that we did not value him. We, however, like to be highly esteemed.

     I know that I am frequently too quick to try to save my reputation and only infrequently let people have a wrong interpretation about something I’ve done. I’m quick to correct wrong negative impressions, but let the wrong positive impressions fly. But I know we have to, in Christ, lean into not valuing our reputations too highly. I think it’s actually helpful for humility sake to let people think something wrong about us, especially if they have an overly high estimation of us. Sure, they may misunderstand this particular negative action of ours, but no doubt there are plenty of other negative things about us that are true that they don’t know about.

     The other thing to remember about the Ten Commandments is that, except for the fifth one (honoring your parents), they are basically a list of “shall nots” rather than “shalls” for  the community of Israel and the Church. Jesus reminded us that all of the Law and the Prophets hang on these shalls—“Love the Lord…and love your neighbor as yourself.” When we focus so much on the “shall nots,” though, it’s like focusing so much on not going over the speed limit that you forget what your destination is and reason for driving there. So for Israel and the Church, if we are trying to have relationship with God and we run up against one of these signposts, it means that we are headed in the wrong direction and need to turn around.

     I really like the MiniCooper and at one point my father wanted to buy one, but I was frightened of the idea of him being bounced around like a ping pong ball upon collision. Thankfully he didn’t and so I don’t have to worry about him. But the circle of the signposts of the Ten remind me of that idea—that bouncing off of them, like a Mini-Cooper in a big crash, is not a pleasant experience and we want to stay inside of them.