In the mid-eighties on certain Sunday nights, two boys with too much energy and not enough concern for sermons could be found sitting in a pew with their mother. I was one of those boys and my older brother was the other.
Given my natural angelic nature, I was never the instigator of the events that give purpose to this story, but was no less found guilty by my participation in said events. Perhaps one boy would encroach the other’s territory, poke a finger in the ribs, or throw an elbow in the general direction of the other. The details aren’t important, but the repercussions are.
Usually there was a first offense warning from said mother. If the initial attack from one boy to the other was particularly exaggerated, the mother went straight to the consequence phase: “Wait until we get home.” At this point attention deficits and lack of focus became deftly acute. I can’t speak for my brother but, from the utterance of those feared words until our arrival in the driveway, I pled with The Almighty for my very survival.
This would be a good point to interrupt our story for some necessary disclaimers: My mother is a wonderful woman who loves her children very much. At no point was I abused as a child and, given my penchant for mischief, I would likely have a criminal record and teardrop tattoos if not for the intervention of my parents. Let’s continue…
My prayers basically consisted of asking God that my mother forget her promise or otherwise be swayed so that I could escape the consequences of my actions. Looking back on it I have to ask myself why I prayed those things. I earned what was coming to me, I knew what the result would be, but I continued down a dangerous course anyway. I knew what the result would be, and this is the important part, because my mother had demonstrated her unwillingness to tolerate unruly behavior in the past. I had seen what disobedience earned.
I have heard “The Fear of The Lord” explained, not so much as real “fear,” but as “a reverence and respect.” I respect my grandmother, but I am not afraid of her. I revere the Founding Fathers, but they have no recourse against me. I respect Lance Armstrong, but I think I’ve got him by 50 pounds or more.
Fear of the Lord is just that – fear. Israel knew it. In Exodus 20, after God gave the 10 commandments, the elders of Israel were so afraid and were so shaken from their interaction with God that they pled with Moses for God not to speak to them any more for fear that they would die. If that’s not fear of the Lord then I don’t know what is.
The difficulty with saying that we should fear the Lord is that we often like to talk about how much God loves us, how blessed we are, and how wonderful our relationship with Him is. Those things are all true, but we cannot negate the fact that God’s justice is just as perfect as his love. Just the same loving God should not negate fearing God.
God’s warnings and God’s discipline should not be seen as separate from his love for us. Quite the opposite. Parents who love their children discipline them because the end result of uncorrected behavior is disastrous. Have you ever seen a child who pays no attention to warnings or threats from a parent? That is a child who has no fear of the consequences because warnings have never been followed up with punishment. And I would further assert that the parent does not have a good grasp of the disastrous effects of withholding discipline.
Fear of God comes from an understanding that The Almighty is just that – almighty. He does not ask permission, He is not held back, and He does not tolerate disobedience. Does that make God mean? Nope. Does that mean God is unfair? Far from it. God’s lack of toleration of sin is because he is perfectly holy. Read First John if you think this command is relegated to the Old Testament.
If we love and fear God properly it means we have a healthy understanding of exactly who it is we worship. Most often, I think my straying and disobedience come from a lack of fear of God, not a lack of love.
Either way, the two should not be separated, but I haven’t heard any praise and worship songs lately about the excellence of God’s discipline.
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About Jake Harvey: For the past four years, Jake has held a secret security job protecting citizens of Fort Worth. Really, it’s just him riding around in his pickup truck with a shotgun. While driving around, his music choices go from Waylon Jennings to Clutch to TV on the Radio. When he stops at red lights, he is often reminded of his severe dislike of the Chicago Cubs and whining. When Jake’s patrol stops at the local 7-11 to scout out any troublemakers or hooligans, he always has to get a pack of gum and a strong cup of coffee. Jake also spends time studying economic theory, buying books and guns, and resisting the urge to breakdance when he sees cardboard on the ground. You can follow him @jakeharvey6.
*Photo credit: @jbtaylor
