God is not a busker

 This week's verses are Psalm 50:5-15:

He says:
“Assemble my covenant people before me,
those who ratified a covenant with me by sacrifice.”
The heavens declare his fairness,
for God is judge. (Selah)
He says:
“Listen, my people. I am speaking!
Listen, Israel. I am accusing you.
I am God, your God!
I am not condemning you because of your sacrifices,
or because of your burnt sacrifices that you continually offer me.
I do not need to take a bull from your household
or goats from your sheepfolds.
For every wild animal in the forest belongs to me,
as well as the cattle that graze on a thousand hills.
I keep track of every bird in the hills,
and the insects of the field are mine.
Even if I were hungry, I would not tell you,
for the world and all it contains belong to me.
Do I eat the flesh of bulls?
Do I drink the blood of goats?
Present to God a thank offering.
Repay your vows to the Most High.
Pray to me when you are in trouble.
I will deliver you, and you will honor me.”

These verses land in the middle of a Psalm where God calls out his people for completely misunderstanding the power dynamic behind the covenant they had with him. It is also an epic slam against religiosity.

The people of Israel were acting like they were convinced in their hearts that God was a kind of cosmic donkey who served them in exchange for a little food and petting. A couple bulls here, a few lambs or goats there, maybe some kind words, and they could go about their business as they wanted, knowing he was tethered nearby in case they needed him for something.

This was the relationship people imagined had with some of the pagan gods. They would "feed" the idol and the idol would then be expected to go off and serve them. In animist religions, we still see this. People pour rice at the bottom of a sacred tree, or pour drink out on the ground, or throw money into a "sacred" well, in order to bribe the spirit into doing what they want.

The problem is that is nothing like the covenant they signed with God. God is not some wandering spirit who can't provide for his own needs and is willing to work for food. God is more than able to provide for himself. He created the covenant, he sits as judge over it, and he is perfectly able and willing to keep his side of the deal. He doesn't need to be bribed with something he already has more than enough of. At no point is he jonesing for beef and goat blood.

The real value of a sacrifice is not feeding a hungry God or superstitiously paying him off. The value is that it is obedience to the terms of the contract, and that it costs the donor something they would otherwise need. It is not God who runs short, but us, and "giving till it hurts" is what it takes to remind us sometimes that our means are limited. Our limitation is why the covenant is there in the first place.

And this is something God makes clear. He is not telling them that he wants better food or that he's still hungry when they're bringing the leftovers back to the kitchen. The frequency and quality are fine. The issue is the attitude they have towards him, the confusion over who he is and who they are. He isn't just another creature they tend with hay and a tent. They are not even equals with him in the covenant. God is God and they are nothing without him

If the Psalm were written now, God might have said something like "Look, I have no complaints about your praise, and you should have no doubt that I'm faithful, but I'm not your dog. I'm your master." Do we act like we have a master?

The role of Israel, apart from the law itself, is to be thankful for what they get, to sacrifice to remind themselves they are limited, to turn to God when they are in trouble, and to honor him when he intervenes on their behalf and saves them from the consequences of their limitation. Honestly, it's a pretty great deal. But we try to game the system. We want to be the ones in control. We just want to pay a maintenance fee and get on with our lives, contract in hand in case we need it.

Religiosity is the game where we delude ourselves into thinking we're the ones enforcing the covenant, the source of power in the relationship, the one the other side needs more than we need them. We do things to try to pay God off, to toss him a scrap here and there, maybe let him catch a frisbee or two, and then we put him in his crate and go live our lives the way we want, satisfied that he'll be there when we need him.

Is that the way we should be interfacing with the supreme being of the universe? Does he really need our tithe money to make ends meet, our over-spiritual comments, our often-fashionable moralism, our time served in uncomfortable chairs listening to sermons, and Sunday sing-alongs in front of an overhead screen? Is that really enough to pay him off so we can get out of the terms and conditions? Why do we still think our righteousness is for sale at a price we can afford?

When it comes to living a good Christian life, are we doing it because we think he's unable to do what he wants without us? Do we think he is unwilling, and somehow needs our help or some sweet-talking in order to keep up his side of the deal? Or are we doing it because we know he's faithful, and obedience is our way of living out our agreement to the terms of his offer? What is your role in the relationship?

Once we've answered that question, we can look at our Christian lives through the lens of how he tells Israel to keep up their side of the deal. Are we thankful for our connection with Him? Do we put ourselves in daring places where we are made aware of how small, and poor, and insignificant, and limited we are? Do we call on him genuinely for help when we run out of options, as our primary choice, and with a sense of possibility? And finally, when he moves on our behalf, as he did on the cross and countless times since, do we honor him as our master?

Or do we just pat him on the head, throw some spare change in the hat, and tell him to move along?