Stream of Consciousness: Pharisee Edition

Disclaimer: If I come across as judgmental in this post, that’s my point.  I struggle with being judgmental.

I had a tough time focusing in church on Sunday.  There were a few things.  I had asked Silje to brush her hair before we left for church, which is something that we’ve been working on.  As she was getting her coat on, it looked unkempt, so I asked her if she brushed all of it, or just the front, easy parts.  She said all of it.  I told her it looked a bit frizzy, and she said it’s because we washed it the night before, and it’s always fluffy after bath night.  Fair enough.

When we were singing in church, though, she leaned up against me and put her arm around me.  I put my hand on her hair as a loving gesture, but then felt the mass of tangles underneath.  O that just annoyed me.  She didn’t brush the whole thing.  She just did the front.  We’ve gone over this before…

That was one distraction.  The other that began as we were singing (standing up) were the teenage girls also standing up near us.  They were singing and worshiping, but their clothes…

Apparently, the rule of thumb in modesty these days is if you wear colored tights, your skirt can be as short as you like.  Better yet, a big tunic looking shirt that is supposed to pass as a dress, with “leggings” (thick tights) underneath.  I know no skin was showing, but my goodness, the only thing I was grateful for was that the skirt actually covered the entire butt.  Is that what we’re left with?  Gratefulness that at least their butts are covered?  It’s like the girls can’t spot a rip off in the clothing industry a mile away.  They pay for a whole skirt and just get half of one.

So as I’m singing with my mouth, I’m thinking in my mind what the proper Biblical protocol would be in this instance of me having an issue with another believer.  Should I drop it, and fester?  Should I talk to the pastor, and get him to do something about it?  Should I speak directly to them, or should I speak to the people responsible for them?

If I talked directly to them, I would look like an old fuddy-duddy.  Then I realized that’s what I actually was.  When did that happen?

Then I started to think about what I would hope to accomplish with such a conversation with whomever the conversation would be.  (All still the worship time.  You know, since my mind and heart were in full attention.)  It’s not like I wanted some sort of official dress code for the church, and I most definitely didn’t want them to leave or stop coming.  I thought about a church I had heard about in Bible school that had a dress code.  They actually (no joke) had a changing room with various sized dresses, and if a woman showed up wearing pants, one of the older women would direct her to the changing room where she could find a dress to wear to the service.

Then I realized that I was wearing pants, and at that other church I would be a huge distraction there too.

I didn’t want them to just look Christian enough on the outside.  I wanted them to have a modest heart on the inside, and I wanted that to reflect on the outside.  I wanted them to consider those around them, and the men especially.  That kind of conversation didn’t just happen with someone you don’t know, and I don’t know these girls.  That kind of conversation requires some kind of relationship and trust.  How in the world would I be able to develop that with responsibilities at home pulling at me.

Then we sat down.  Finally.  My mind could rest from the barely covered butts.

Then the kids brought out their crayons and coloring books.  They had put it in a plastic bag.  I had specifically told them when we were packing for church to grab a soft, fabric bag, and instead they grabbed a plastic grocery bag.  It was like hearing someone unwrap a candy in slow motion until you feel like you’re going to snap.  Why don’t they just listen to my specific instructions…just once!  There’s a reason for doing things the way I ask for them to be done, if they would just listen!

OK, now try to concentrate about what the pastor is saying.  I see the girls sitting there.  O, what should I do?  I just can’t drop this for a moment it seems.  I don’t want to offend them.  I don’t want them to go somewhere else, but I have my husband to protect.  I bear his burdens with him, and he’s hit with images everywhere, and a worship service of all places should be a safe place.

Why is this bothering me so much?  These are probably really sweet girls.
*crinkle crinkle crinkle*
Ugh, could the kids just listen…once!

OK, now the girls’ wardrobe choice isn’t bothering me.  The fact that I can’t seem to get past it to do what I came here to do is bothering me more.  Why can’t I listen to the words of the song.  Why can’t I experience God in a peaceful, restorative way.  Why can’t I leave my to-do list with the kids off my brain and focus on my Creator?

Because I’m a Pharisee.  I see it.  Again.

I’m a judgmental fuddy-duddy

“That’s when we come back to the cross.”  The only phrase I actually caught from the sermon today, and I’m pretty sure that was no accident.  It’s when the appropriate action is to come back to the cross where we’re all equal.  Where it’s a level playing field and we all approach the throne the same.  Forgiven.  Remember the cross.  Dwell on the cross, and all that it means.  It’s at the cross where law and gospel crash together on glorious unity.  God’s righteousness not yielding, and his standard held strong, but His grace immovable.  His sacrifice lifting us from our pitiful state.

I was in a pitiful state.  Did you know that humble means low to the ground?  I picture someone humiliated, casting their eyes against the ground, and their bodies low.  The great thing about this bowed position is that it does not allow us to look at others.  When we remember our shame, we look down.  When we remember how we were rescued, we look up.  The looking around part is pride.  It’s not humility, and it’s not worship.

After church, someone reminded me that the only thing that separates us from other religions is Jesus.  All other religions have good deeds.  If that’s what we’re after, we can have our choice.  What we have is grace.  Amazing grace.

I’m annoyed most of all today with myself for allowing myself to be so easily distracted.  The devil seems to come out in full force on Sundays in preventing any worship from taking place.  I think worshiping God is what disgusts him most.  How could I stumble over something so…stupid.  Several things so stupid.  Hair, clothes, a plastic bag.

I did, however, figure out the proper Biblical action for me to take for next Sunday.  Focus my mind on the cross, and don’t enter such a battle (the worship service) without some serious prayer that nothing would distract from our God being worshiped.