“When the chief priests and the Pharisees
heard his parables, they realized that he was speaking about them. They wanted
to arrest him.”
- Matthew 21:45-46a
Growing up, I was never one of those kids who
dreaded my annual dentist appointment. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t love it—who
does—but I wouldn’t throw a fit or melt into a puddle when the time came for my
checkup. The dentist and I had a pretty set routine: I’d watch a movie in the
waiting room until it was my turn, he’d make one-sided small talk with me while
he cleaned my teeth (why dentists try to converse with you when their hand is
in your mouth, I’ll never understand), I’d take my cup of fluoride, he’d give
me my sticker, and then I’d wait for his report.
And the report was always the same, with the same
three pieces of advice. First, he’d tell me I had no cavities, so I should continue
staying away from too many sweets. Well, my mom was pretty much controlled my
diet in those days, so no problem there. Second, he’d say my teeth were looking
ok, so I should keep brushing twice a day. Sure. It was the third part of his
evaluation where we hit an annual bump in the road: “Daniel, your gums are
looking pretty sore. Are you flossing?” At that point I’d mumble something about
how I didn’t every night, but tried to most of the time. It was a lie, and he
wasn’t buying it for a second. I flossed maaaybe twice a year (usually the day
before and after my dentist appointment) and we both knew it. So he’d give me a
stern look, remind me how important it was to floss regularly, and then I’d be
on my way, red-faced from shame but done with the dentist for another year.
That night, and maybe the next, I would follow
his instructions about flossing, still cowed by the guilt of that last moment
in his office. But before long, the evening would come when I’d look down at the
dental floss in my drawer, furrow my brow, and toss it in the trash can. I didn’t
have any cavities. My teeth were clean. My gums felt fine. What did I need to
floss for?
Every year, I had two choices when I left my
dentist’s office: I could accept the dentist’s message and change for the
better, or ignore him and accept the negative consequences. I could repent or I
could reject. We face the same choice when confronted by the gospel of Jesus Christ.
There are plenty of things God calls us to that we find palatable, things that
we’re either already doing or can adopt with ease. We can pray every now and
then, do the occasional good deed for a friend, love our families well—if these
are what it takes to keep us right with God, then sign us up!
But eventually there comes a moment when you
learn that following Jesus isn’t as easy as you thought—he says to love not
only your friends, but your enemies; he calls you to give freely, not just to
give your leftovers; his way is the cross, not the sword. In those moments,
when the Spirit convicts your heart, you can respond one of two ways: you can
repent or you can reject.
As the Pharisees learned during Jesus’s
ministry, it’s not particularly fun to realize that when Jesus calls people to
repentance, he’s talking about you. But while you may share the discomfort of
those biblical teachers of the law, you need not copy their reaction. The redemptive
response to spiritual conviction is not anger, but humility, a willingness to examine
yourself and see how you can become more like Christ. God does not want to
shame you, He wants to transform you, to heal what is broken and bind up what
is wounded. But He gives you the choice—you can let Him do his redemptive work,
or you can ignore His will and accept the consequences. You can repent or you
can reject.
Take
a moment to think about the ways the God has called you to change recently. How
have you responded, with humility or with arrogance? When you realize, like the
Pharisees, that certain gospel challenges are directed at you, do you run from
those challenges or rise with Christ to meet them? May you have open ears and
an open heart for God’s will—just like with my dentist’s advice, you can repent
or you can reject, but only one will make you clean.
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