Dearest Rachel –
There’s an obscure story in the middle of the book of Jeremiah, in chapter 35, where the prophet is instructed to invite members of a certain family, descendants of a man named Recab, to eat with him at the Temple. Now, it so happens that this family had a number of traditions, instituted by Jonadab, Recab’s son, that they hewed to – one might go so far as to say “religiously” – one of which being that they did not drink wine (or, presumably, any strong drink; wine simply being the chief intoxicant of the age and region). Jeremiah, however, was specifically instructed to offer them wine to drink, which they promptly refused (as expected). This was where God held them up as an example to the rest of the country; since this family could maintain a tradition set up by their ancestor – a mere man – and stick with it for generations, why couldn’t the nation as a whole do so with instructions from a Higher Authority?
I wonder if we don’t all engage in this to some extent or another. Certainly I’ve become aware of my own habits, especially since I’ve added this or that item to my daily routine. Get up and weigh myself before heading out to the gym, get back and weigh myself again before getting into the shower and getting on with the day. Spend an hour assembling a thousand words or so to you at some point before noon, and hopefully get in a few chapters of reading the Bible (one psalm, one chapter of Proverbs, and three chapters of wherever else I’m in the rest of the book) during the day. These days, I’ve added the ‘necessity’ of creating at least one new AI design each week and uploading it to my little store, while taking care of whatever accounting work might be necessary for the church or the camp (and let’s be honest, there’s almost always something to deal with, as Rosanne Rosannadanna would say).
Apart from the time spend reading scripture – and I’ll be honest, I’m not sure I read it with any greater focus or intensity than I do anything else I read online, such as my daily news feed – none of this is required of me, when you add everything up. Oh, the accounting work needs to be done by someone, I suppose, and I’m the one who knows the subject matter the best, but it’s not as if it’s an actual paid job that I’ll get fired for not doing. Meanwhile, the exercise part of the routine is one that would have surprised you, as I never did that when you and I were together (to be fair, while there are a few couples that do work out together on adjacent treadmills or what have you, they’re very much the exception to the rule. Exercising – at least from my limited experience – is a solitary pursuit, as everyone does so at their own pace, to deal with their own body’s needs and their own unique goals for it), so that’s certainly not a mandatory part of my life. Even the part about reading scripture isn’t required, per se – it’s not as if I’ll be struck by lightning if I don’t do it. Which is a good thing, as I miss more days than I do when it comes to writing you; while I do try to double my reading the following day to make up for it, it doesn’t help my retention of the material.
The point is, I stick to my own self-made rules more closely than the instructions (let alone commands) of God, much like the Recabites and their prohibition on drinking wine (or living in houses or planting crops). That wouldn’t seem to speak well for me, from the perspective of walking in a way that would please Him.
In my defense, it’s not as easy to quantify my spiritual walk the way it is with my attempts to lose weight. I can step on a scale before and after my workout, and I can see the results – when you come down to it, those results are the thing that drive me to continue, since I can see some reasonably steady improvement (and even when I fall back a bit, like after last night’s meal at the folks’, I can still still the pounds drop from before and after my exercise hour). By contrast, there’s no similar means of measuring my level of spirituality, and whether it’s improving or decaying from one moment to another. It’s not like there’s some DeusScan™ machine I could step into and have it spit out a reading of where I stand with the Lord, and if my time spent reading (never mind praying) has gotten me closer to Him – and by how much. I’m going to say that if something like that existed, it would be a boon to those of us feeling our way there.
But of course, there’s no way it could. Anything built by us humans wouldn’t be able to measure God, whether around us (which we are assured He is, everywhere, but good luck identifying Him separately from everything else – particularly if, as I understand it, He holds every particle together) or within us. Even if it could, it probably couldn’t measure changes in His presence within us, if for no other reason than that He is infinite. What difference could an incremental change make when He’s all there all the time? No, it’s a question of where our heart is, and that’s another thing entirely that man isn’t able to measure, any more than we have (or ever will) figured out how to read minds. So… so much for that incentive on how to get closer to Him, and to know if I’m on the right track or not.
To be fair, the Lord has nothing ill to say about the Recabites’ attention to their man-made rules. Indeed, He tells them that their family will endure for all time, thanks to their faithfulness. It’s an exhortation that may have led to the Pharisees becoming who they were centuries later, and not to their credit, as Jesus excoriates them for their behavior. Presumably, though, the Recabites were keeping His laws just as faithfully as they were those of their ancestor. The question is, am I doing likewise? Would God be as pleased with me?
In the absence of any tangible means of measurement, honey, all I can do is ask that you keep an eye on me, whisper in my ear if I’m going off track, and even if I’m not, that you wish me luck, as I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 