The Burn Isn't Worth It

I went to a campground with my church youth group years ago where the feature attraction was a long twisting water slide that emptied out into a pool. The plan was to spend the whole day at the campground utilizing said slide and pool and generally having fun.

Before we left, my mom handed me the bottle of sunscreen with strict instructions to "use it." My skin is ghost-white between the freckles, and it burns within fifteen minutes of intense sun exposure. So I tucked the bottle in my backpack as the youth group pulled out from the parking lot. 

When we reached the campground, the sun was already hot. And there wasn't a line for the water slide! All youth group members took off running for the tower in anticipation of the first ride down. And I ran with them. I did remember what my mom had told me, but I figured I'd "get around to it."

You've probably worked this much out already: I did not get around to it. The slide was fun, and the pool was fun. The cool water in the hot sun felt good, and hours passed until it was time to go.

As I was toweling off, I realized I felt a little scratchy. Maybe a tiny bit sore, but nothing overwhelming. As I got dressed again and boarded the van, that feeling gradually increased as the effects of the cold pool wore off and the exhaustion of the day set in.

By the time I got home, I was in some serious pain. Blisters welled up on my purple feet. My shoulders and back, similarly, were so brilliantly red, they nearly glowed. My forehead already sported peeling skin, and the skin underneath the first layer also peeled. I looked -- and felt -- terrible. Whatever internal reaction a body has to an intense burn... that's what I was having.

And I knew I had no one to blame... but myself. I was the reason I was miserable, which made me even more miserable.

The next day was school. My parents have never been ones to allow their kids to stay home unless a cataclysmic event is happening, and since there was no evidence of tsunami, volcanic eruption, or earthquake outside our windows... I had to go to school.

I remember the dress I wore, chosen because I hoped it would chafe my legs less than jeans, but the itchy seams around my shoulders still make me flinch in memory. I was miserable. I couldn't lean back in my desk. I couldn't sit up straight at my desk. I couldn't stand beside my desk. I couldn't lie down. I wanted to curl up and die somewhere, preferably in my bathing suit so I wouldn't have to feel anything against my back.

Finally, one of my teachers sent me to the nurse and told me to call my mom. I did. Mom -- after a long, drawn-out sigh, agreed to take me home -- on the condition that I work my tail off. I still remember her tight words: "The only reason you're going home is because you can wear your bathing suit while you deep-clean the house." 

So home I went, and never was there a more contrite Cinderella than the one in the bathing suit in the backyard, flinching as her shoulders crinkled while she hung the wet laundry on the clothesline.

Actions have consequences, don't they? Sometimes, we can point our fingers at someone else and become the victim -- but most of the time, our actions stem from our own choices, and sometimes those choices have devastating consequences.

John 12:37-50 is headed (in my Bible) as: "The Jews Continue in Their Unbelief." And the first verse in that section says: "Even after Jesus had done all these miraculous signs in their presence, they still would not believe in Him."

How discouraging. These are the final verses in the Gospel of John before he begins the accounts leading up to Jesus' death, and what a pall this places on three years of mind-blowing miracles. Despite the evidence laid before their eyes, many of the Jews still cling to their unbelief.

In John 12:47-48, Jesus says: "As for the person who hears My words but does not keep them, I do not judge him. For I did not come to judge the world, but to save it. There is a judge for the one who rejects Me and does not accept my words; that very word which I spoke will condemn him at the last day."

The thing that stands out to me here: the Jews will continue their disbelief. Jesus will die a horrific death. Jesus will resurrect three days later, and will someday return for His bride, the church. It's very likely that many of these Jews John refers to in this passage will live in their disbelief for years to come, perhaps until the end of a natural lifespan when they finally breathe their last.

But actions have consequences, and unless they believe and turn from their sins... those consequences will eventually catch up with them.

John uses prophecy from Isaiah to underscore his point: "For this reason they could not believe, because, as Isaiah says elsewhere: 'He has blinded their eyes and deadened their hearts, so they can neither see with their eyes, nor understand with their hearts, nor turn -- and I would heal them."

This Isaiah passage is from Isaiah 6:10, so I flipped back to it and read the verse in context. Immediately following the verse are these words: "Then [Isaiah] said, 'For how long, oh Lord?' And [the Lord] answered: 'Until the cities lie ruined and without inhabitant, until the houses are left deserted and the fields ruined and ravaged, until the Lord has sent everyone far away and the land is utterly forsaken. And though a tenth remains in the land, it will again be laid waste" (Isaiah 6:11-13).

So... a pretty thorough wipe-out, then.

We have a fringe of hope, though. Listen: "But as the terebinth and oak leave stumps when they are cut down, so the holy seed will be the stump in the land" (Isaiah 6:13).

There was a stump next to Patton Avenue in Asheville, North Carolina that I drove past for years. At one point, the city had decided a tree needed to be cut down, so for the first year, there was only a stump next to the road. Rarely a stellar representation of follow-through, the city did not remove the stump, so the next year, a wealth of green shoots clustered around it. The year after, those shoots had turned into a small tree, because the root system had stayed intact. There is hope for new life... but check your root system. What kind of soil have you buried it in?

I found this very interesting in Isaiah 6:13: "And though a tenth remains in the land..." 

Remember Abraham? Remember when he hosted three men at his tent, and then walked with one of them, pleading the cause of Sodom for the sake of his nephew Lot? (See my blog post about that encounter here) "For the sake of fifty, Lord, will you spare the city?" And the Lord promises to do so. "For the sake of forty-five? Forty? Thirty? Twenty?... Ten?" "For the sake of ten, I will spare it," the Lord promises. 

Here in Isaiah, disaster overtakes the land, and the tenth that remains is the remnant, the stump that will produce new life after the destruction comes.

Why does destruction come? Because of unbelief. Because of hard hearts. Because of closed eyes. The Lord will be exalted.

I remember my oldest daughter playing hide-and-seek with me when she was around two. She'd go "hide" by standing against the wall in plain sight with her eyes closed, which -- to her -- meant that I couldn't see her, because she couldn't see me.

The fact that her eyes were closed did not in any way detract from the fact that I was real and present and able to see her. But she'd made a conscious decision to ignore my presence and -- with her eyes tightly shut -- had convinced herself that I was not there.

I know God still calls us today. His Spirit still speaks to the hearts of people, asking us to open our eyes, see what is right there in plain sight.

But many of us squeeze our eyes more tightly shut than before, shaking our heads stubbornly, clinging to disbelief like a port in a storm, afraid that if we let go and trust in something bigger than ourselves... we'll fall (see my blog post from yesterday). 

It's a dangerous game to play. Because actions have consequences, and eventually, if we fight long enough and hard enough, and if we battle against the Lord... He'll finally let go. With tears in His eyes and a heart breaking with grief, He will uncurl His hand and release us to go our own way, refusing to force anyone to come to Him.

See, He will never force a sheep into the sheep fold. He's created us with the capacity to choose Him as He has chosen us. He will call and beckon and herd His sheep toward the fold with untiring tenacity, but eventually... that gate will close.

Don't play with consequences, don't play the long game. The burn isn't worth it. If you hear the nudge of the Holy Spirit toward the sheep fold, let the comfort of the Shepherd's arms hold you close. Stop fighting. Be the stump that grows the tree again. Be the child with the open eyes. "Be still and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations; I will be exalted in the earth" (Psalm 46:10).