why "holy" people annoy me . . .
"Have nothing to do with godless myths and old wives' tales; rather, train yourself to be godly. For physical training is of some value, but godliness has value for all things, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come."
2 Timothy 4:7-8
I left my Sunday night Bible study feeling a tad disgruntled. Our oh-so-fabulous teacher opened up a can of worms when he asked an eclectic group of young adults to define what it means to be Godly. The majority of the responses revolved around perfecting behavior and consistently following biblical rules. Everyone seemed to be looking a definition that was measurable. I chimed in, reminding the group of our sin nature and how unattainable it all seems. I mean, do we really believe we can achieve a level of perfection that places us on the same playing field as God?
I had a conversation with a friend today about the value of physical training. I explained that I avoid exercise because it's painful, and at this point in my life, I don't find it necessary. As my metabolism slows down and my jeans no longer fit, I'll probably begin to place a higher priority on eating healthy and working out. Until then, I guess I'm just coasting.
So how does this concept apply to spiritual training? Have I been on cruise control these last few years, hoping I would magically mature as a believer? Is it necessary for me to stretch my spiritual muscles in order to grow? What does it mean to be disciplined? Does God want me to strive for perfection? Or are Godly people just normal folks who occasionally screw up as they search for truth?
I've spent so many years feeling like I've done EVERYTHING to gain God's approval, until finally I decided to do NOTHING. Sure, I was still praying, and I would open my Bible every now and again, but my heart was not in it. I felt burned out and unsuccessful in my attempts to be Godly. So I just quit trying. No more spiritual exercise for me. The pay-off didn't seem worth it.
A few weeks ago God gently spoke to my heart, reminding me that spending time with Him is not a requirement. His love for me is not dependent on my performance. He seemed to be saying, "You've been missing the point Tenille. I want you to want me, but your perceptions of who I am are so messed up, no wonder you avoid me!" In that moment, I decided I might be willing to reconsider those spiritual disciplines I had grown to despise.
So this last week, with the help of an accountability partner, I spent some time in God's Word. I found some simple applications to age old truths, and it didn't seem like a chore. God wasn't clapping for me, but he wasn't shaking His head in disgust when I only had ten minutes of solitude instead of thirty. This was freeing, and I might even try it again. Who knows, maybe the dark clouds of rebellion and cynicism are lifting.
Or will I always be annoyed by people who believe holiness can be acheived?"