Filthy Rags

It’s a family joke that, if I want something, I try to butter my parents up. I don’t do that consciously, but I think that it can sometimes be human nature to try to work our way into someone’s good graces in order to get our way.

Sometimes, I think that this mentality sneaks into our relationship with God. We try, consciously or unconsciously, to do things to make God happy with us and with our performance so that he will give us what we want.

Some of the largest world religions have a scale: in Islam, if your good deeds outweigh your bad, then you will go to Paradise. In Hinduism, you will be reincarnated into a better life or allowed to enter Nirvana.

This is not what Christianity says, in Ephesians 2:8-9, Paul explains “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast.”

Not only that, but Isaiah 64:6a says that “all of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags.”

It is not negotiable—we are not able to enter heaven on our own power. Even our best attempts fall short of the perfection that God demands.

The whole point of Christianity is that we are forced to a point where we must acknowledge the perfection of God. It is a perfection that we can never achieve, and thus we are dependent upon that God to save us from ourselves.

And this is where the idea of a “gift” comes into play. With the sacrifice of Jesus in our place, we are given an option. The choices are: try to enter on our own “filthy rags” or take the gift of grace that saves us.

The decision seems easy. It’s only when the human penchant to try to earn our way keeps sneaking back that it is difficult to accept the gift.

I ought to know that this won’t work with God, though. I’ve learned from experience: my parents never fall for it either.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

“It’s mine.”

Can you picture a five-year-old saying that? What about a 75-year-old? I’m pretty sure that I’ve heard those words come from mouths both young and old.

It’s human nature to be possessive of the possessions and people in our lives. It doesn’t usually come to the surface until someone tries to take some of what we perceive to be ours.

We know that we owe the government taxes; we know that we need to pay for groceries, and that we can’t just take whatever we want; we pay for services like haircutting, car washing, and lawn mowing. We’re fine with those costs, we factor them into the budget.

But do we factor the church into our budget? Should we? When they ask for our money, don’t many of us think, deep in our secret sinful selves, “It’s mine!”

I especially feel this way when the preacher is browbeating and guilting me into giving. When the preacher tells me that I have to give, that I am required to give. That’s when my sin nature takes over and screams, “You can’t make me!”

I don’t find anywhere in the New Testament that tells me, “You must give 10 percent of all your earnings to the church.” I know that the Old Covenant required that the Jews give ten percent (Numbers 18:20-32), but we are free of the Old Covenant.

Where does that leave us?

We are called to generosity. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus tells his listeners “Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you” (Matt. 5:42). Paul adds in 1 Tim 6:17-19 that “those who are rich in this present world [should] not be arrogant or put their hope in wealth… [they must] be generous and willing to share. In this way, they will lay up treasure for themselves as a firm foundation for the coming age.”

Neither Jesus nor Paul tells us to give… We are just told to give. That’s so much broader.

Is it bad to follow the Old Covenant teaching of 10 percent? Certainly not! But it’s not about the percentage, it’s about being a wise steward of the resources God has given us. We should give what and when we can, above and beyond our means. Not restricted to 10 percent, and not legalistic about it. We should be open to the leading of the Holy Spirit. When he prompts us to give, we should do so, knowing that we are laying a firm foundation for the coming age.

And that will be something we will be proud to claim as “Mine!”

And now, for something completely different...

“Mom, I’m going to marry Usher.”

I have said these words, maybe more than once. My mom never bats an eyelash.

Probably because the chance that I will meet Usher in my lifetime, let alone fall in love with him is practically nonexistent. Maybe also because she knows that I would not actually be happy married to a man who is know for lyrics that objectify and demean women.

The truth that she never mentions is that he’s also from a different race from me. It’s fine when I’m joking about something that wouldn’t ever really happen. It’s something completely different if we are talking about something real. What would my parents say if I really did bring home a boy who was a different race than me?

I’ve asked them before. Answers are usually vague. It might have something to do with the fact that I’ve only ever brought home one guy before. It might have to do with the fact that I’m the oldest, so they’ve never dealt with a daughter or son moving towards marriage.

Here is what my mom says, “Marriage is hard when you come from the same cultural background. It would be even harder if it was with someone who was from a different cultural background. I would just make sure that you know what you are getting yourself into. Know what your cultural differences are.”

My dad adds, “I wouldn’t mind at all. I don’t care about race. I would want you to be aware that you’re going to have to deal with difficult interactions from other people.”

Sometimes, I think that there can be just as many cultural difference between people of the same race as there can be between those of different races. And there will always be people who judge your relationships. It might be more difficult, or the challenges may just be different. Regardless, my parents have both said that they would support me in my choice, no matter what the race of the man of my choosing.