Hey, can I make you a smoothie?
Many smoothies are made at our house. On a typical morning, the
Magic Bullet blender sounds more like a Magic Machinegun, spitting out
concoctions purple and green. There are mild arguments over the best (and
worst) ingredients. Some think anything goes, from spinach to yesterday’s
leftovers; others follow a strict regimen of favorite fixings.
I like to create my smoothies as the spirit leads – my
spirit, not God’s, though the results might be considered inspired. I would
gladly make one for you. How about frozen blackberries, almond milk, half a
banana, crushed ice, dash of ice cream, swig of maple syrup, dollop of french
vanilla yogurt – and my special secret ingredient! Ready for it?
Just a little bit of dog poo.
Don’t worry. It was collected fresh this morning from the
friendliest of pooches. And it is so very tiny a fragment of feces. You won’t
even taste it, I guarantee. What do you think? Should I get started?
Of course not! Who do you think I am? The thing is
revolting, even if the poo can’t be tasted. It would make you sick, if not physically
then at least by the very thought of it.
“Holy” is a word misplaced in our vocabulary. How did you or
I last use it? “Holy cow!” perhaps. I recently watched an amazing clip of some
orcas chasing a pod of sea lions, and all the people in the boat could say was
“holy shit!” over and over. What an odd oxymoron.
I think we are losing sight of the holiness of God. John
says, “This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God
is light, and in him is no darkness at all.” None, not even the tiniest little
bit. To God, darkness is as disgusting as any quantity of dog poo in a
smoothie. He will tolerate none of it, not even the smallest hint.
God does not shrink from sin; it is sin that cringes and
crawls and finds a shady spot - if it can - in the blinding, blazing light of
his glory. Darkness flees, powers concede defeat, and one day every knee will
bow – willing or no – at the feet of the Holy One.
“Be holy, as I am holy.”
Seriously, God? Do you see where we live? Who can help
getting their feet dirty as we walk about in a fallen world? Staying perfectly clean
is a lost cause.
Granted. But that is not the point. Holiness is not
something we can do perfectly; however, it is what we must be. Here is the
difference: Be holy, and when you act less than holy you will know it and feel
it – deeply. You will not put up with it long; you will do business with God
and be made clean again.
John goes on to say, “If we claim to have fellowship with
him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live out the truth. But if
we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one
another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.”
Light is holiness. When we walk with God in the light, though
we inevitably stumble, our sin is quickly exposed for what it is and can be quickly
confessed.
Our holy God is compassionate toward the worst of sinners.
He does not bear a “holier than thou” attitude, even though that is what he is.
Walk with him in the light and you will find yourself in the darkest places on
earth, among people who can’t find their way.
God does not shrink from sinners; they flee from him until
his love overwhelms and conquers them. Like Paul, to whom Jesus later said, “I
am sending you to them to open their eyes and turn them from darkness to light,
and from the power of Satan to God, so that they may receive forgiveness of
sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith in me.”
So holiness neither makes us perfect nor sets us above our
fellow man. But neither can holiness tolerate sin, any more than you can
tolerate poo in your smoothie.
We have become accustomed to the taste of poo. Have grown to
rather like it really, though it sickens and weakens us and corrodes our
resolve until our concessions and compromises make us not very unlike the
cesspool in which we live. The world has very many convincing arguments for the
taste of poo, the rightness of poo, the right to poo, that poo should be acceptable
to any lover of mankind. And we are listening.
But light and darkness are not two sides of the same coin. The
room I am sitting in has a light switch, but no darkness switch. I can bring
the light of Jesus into the darkest places, but I cannot walk in darkness and
find myself in the light.
If that was confusing, here is an example. Your generation
of believers has fewer scruples than mine about entering the dark places – the
pub, the club, the party of a friend, your cousin’s gay wedding. Good on you! But
when you are there, remember why you are there. If it is not to be light –
holy, different, wholly other, redeeming, exposing, full of grace – you are
probably simply walking in darkness.
Another example: You are better than my generation at dialogue
with those who don’t share your Christian worldview – the atheist, the
amoralist, the secular humanist. Well done! But what fellowship can light have
with darkness? Be respectful, take interest, ask good questions, but stand for
truth and expose the lies and evil scheming of your real adversary, who is not
flesh and blood.
Be holy, as he is holy. Be so other than the world around
you that they can’t help but feel a bit exposed by your presence, though you
have uttered not a word of judgment or condemnation, and on the contrary have
exuded grace and compassion and interest. Be so other that they see you as they
saw Jesus, “a friend of sinners,” but no friend of sin.
That is holiness.
Can you add that word back into your vocabulary?