“Do all things without grumbling or questioning.” (Php 2:14)
Yeah. Right. You got it Paul.
No grumbling? No complaining? Uh oh. I feel that tightness in my chest again.
This is ludicrous. This is unrealistic.
My culture prides itself with freedom of speech. My culture expresses itself through its opinions.
My culture seeks progress through dissatisfaction. My culture gets high on demanding its rights.
My culture cries for reparations.
My culture is dependent on the law, lawyers, oh they lust after their law-whores.
My culture knows the squeaky wheel gets the oil. My culture will not tolerate the intolerant.
My culture is bitchy.
And they pride themselves by exercising the right to open their mouths and ejaculate complaints when they feel betrayed, bereaved, badmouthed, bereft, and berated.
Its their identity. Its what separates them from the rest of the oppressed world. Its the system Paul! Its reality!
Its what works…right?
Really I’m beginning to see what is against me. This culture. This crooked generation.
I’m beginning to see the simplicity within the complexity; the complexity of a culture which determines for itself what is right and wrong; the complexity which results from the dead believing they are living.
I’m beginning to see the simplicity of the program.
I’m beginning to see the simplicity of the method.
As a citizen of my culture I’m beginning to see the cost. Oh Lord don’t say it,
“Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you,
so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven.
For he makes the sun rise on the evil and the good,
and sends rain on the just and the unjust.
For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have?”
James Houston in Joyful Exiles writes, “Anyone who depicts reality must be of humble character, prepared to suffer greatly in renouncing the ways of the world” (p.99).
When I begin to calculate how impossible it is to do something so simple as keep my mouth closed and think better of others, I believe that in reality I am expressing my unwillingness to break from this culture and cleave to my Father who is in secret and sees what is done in secret…
the secret obedience which screams to my Father, ” I love you above all!”
the secrecy of love in silence…
“He was oppressed, and he was afflicted,
yet he opened not his mouth;
like a lamb that is led to the slaughter,
and like a sheep that is before its shearers is silent,
so he opened not his mouth.”