And God spoke all these words. . . (Exodus 20:1)
You said one thing. Something else was heard.
Ever had that happen? That gap between what was intended and what was interpreted, that hairline fracture between what was offered and what was received, that tiny little space is plenty of room for hurt feelings to breed and fester into full blown alienation.
Spoken to the driver: “Why did you go that way?”
Heard by driver: “This was a bad choice and you’re stupid for choosing this route.”
Spoken to cook: “How long did you grill the burgers?”
Heard by cook: “You messed up my meal.”
Spoken to spouse: “Is that what you’re wearing to the party?”
Heard by spouse: “You don’t so look good in that.”
Of course, not every conversation is marred with these miscues. There are plenty of times when what was meant is what was sent, and what was sent hits the bulls-eye. But the ease with which we miss each other is remarkable. The slightest expression, a peculiar tone of voice, a question asked with implications attached – next thing you know someone is withdrawn and quiet or defensive and combative.
And if this kind of thing happens so easily with the person who lives under my roof or offices just down the hall, how much easier does it happen with God? So it is with the commonly known mantra that designates the Ten Commandments: “You Shall Not.”
Our first mistake is thinking of the commandments as being framed entirely in the negative – no, don’t, can’t. But the greater error has to do with how our perception of the commandments shapes our thinking about God. The prohibitive rules come from an angry God, or so it seems. In his book The Ten(der) Commandments, Ron Mehl makes a case for understanding the Ten Commandments as an expression of God’s love for us. Mehl is fighting an uphill battle, and he knows it. He writes
Some people, of course imagine it to be the exact opposite. They don’t hear love in these statements at all. What do they hear? They hear the clank of chains and the rattle of padlocks (p.15).
In the Ten Commandments God said one thing. We tend to hear something else. God spoke love. We hear anger. God gave a gift. We sense God taking something from us.
God intended to give the keys to wholeness. We feel the weight of guilt.
God spoke all these words. The question is how do you hear what God has spoken?
Prayer:
We give you thanks, O God, for you great love and for the variety of ways in which your love is shown to us. You provide for our needs. You lead us out of difficult situations. You hear our prayers. And you tell us how to live. You instruct is in the art of living well. Help us to hear your instruction as you intend it to be heard, as an expression of your love. And help us to love you in return by following what we hear. Amen
You said one thing. Something else was heard.
Ever had that happen? That gap between what was intended and what was interpreted, that hairline fracture between what was offered and what was received, that tiny little space is plenty of room for hurt feelings to breed and fester into full blown alienation.
Spoken to the driver: “Why did you go that way?”
Heard by driver: “This was a bad choice and you’re stupid for choosing this route.”
Spoken to cook: “How long did you grill the burgers?”
Heard by cook: “You messed up my meal.”
Spoken to spouse: “Is that what you’re wearing to the party?”
Heard by spouse: “You don’t so look good in that.”
Of course, not every conversation is marred with these miscues. There are plenty of times when what was meant is what was sent, and what was sent hits the bulls-eye. But the ease with which we miss each other is remarkable. The slightest expression, a peculiar tone of voice, a question asked with implications attached – next thing you know someone is withdrawn and quiet or defensive and combative.
And if this kind of thing happens so easily with the person who lives under my roof or offices just down the hall, how much easier does it happen with God? So it is with the commonly known mantra that designates the Ten Commandments: “You Shall Not.”
Our first mistake is thinking of the commandments as being framed entirely in the negative – no, don’t, can’t. But the greater error has to do with how our perception of the commandments shapes our thinking about God. The prohibitive rules come from an angry God, or so it seems. In his book The Ten(der) Commandments, Ron Mehl makes a case for understanding the Ten Commandments as an expression of God’s love for us. Mehl is fighting an uphill battle, and he knows it. He writes
Some people, of course imagine it to be the exact opposite. They don’t hear love in these statements at all. What do they hear? They hear the clank of chains and the rattle of padlocks (p.15).
In the Ten Commandments God said one thing. We tend to hear something else. God spoke love. We hear anger. God gave a gift. We sense God taking something from us.
God intended to give the keys to wholeness. We feel the weight of guilt.
God spoke all these words. The question is how do you hear what God has spoken?
Prayer:
We give you thanks, O God, for you great love and for the variety of ways in which your love is shown to us. You provide for our needs. You lead us out of difficult situations. You hear our prayers. And you tell us how to live. You instruct is in the art of living well. Help us to hear your instruction as you intend it to be heard, as an expression of your love. And help us to love you in return by following what we hear. Amen
No comments:
Post a Comment