But when John rebuked Herod the tetrarch because of his marriage to Herodias, his brother’s wife, and all the other evil things he had done, Herod added this to them all: He locked John up in prison. Luke 3:19-20
God Thoughts
Simon Cowell would have been impressed. Whether John’s radical message of repentance was preached to a simple peasant or to a tyranical king, John was, at the very least, an equal-opportunity offender. And while the passage doesn’t tell us if John feared the repercussions of publicly denouncing Herod’s illegal marriage to his brother’s wife, it’s probably safe to assume that a man who called the wilderness desert “home,” and ate bugs as part of his daily diet, wasn’t fearful of very much.
But he had reason to be.
History tells us that Herod Antipas came from a long line of brutal fathers who murdered their wives, sons or anyone who got in the way of their power and ambition. Jewish in name only, these kings were more allied to Rome than to the God of Abraham. And like Jesus after him, John did not shy away from speaking truth to those who called themselves God’s chosen, especially if they were in authority.
So what does Herod do? Not surprisingly, he silences his offender. He puts John in prison rather than stop to examine the truth of his words. Then, as now, it is so often easier to silence the truth rather than wrestle with it.
Question:
Is God asking me to be a John-the-Baptist and to confess to a fellow believer that I have a concern about something in their life? Or is God showing me that I am more of a Herod, unwilling to listen to a concern someone has about me? And if so, what does He want me to do about it?
Life As I Know It:
Habits. We all have them. I’d like to think most of mine are good but ask my husband and he’ll tell you that my “habit” of accidentally throwing things away while cleaning (like homework assignments or the occasional bill), isn’t one of them.
But trashed calculus papers and ComEd’s invoice aside, some habits aren’t just habits anymore. They’re obsessions. And addictions. And like Herod’s addiction to power that lead to corruption and a willingness to silence those who would dare speak out against it, I’ve been silencing the still small voice that’s told me for a long time that it’s time to kick the habit. Kick the addiction. In effect? Kick out the video games.
That’s right. I have a gaming problem. Or, more to the point, it’s a problem in our family.
Like any addiction, it started innocently enough. Educational software dangled the promise of early learning and higher IQs. But when numbers, colors and telling time no longer held my children’s interest, we moved on to racing pods with dinosaurs, shooting alien spacecraft and leaping capital T with a single bound in the name of improved hand-eye coordination.
But we knew it was a slippery slope. With children diagnosed with disorders prone to impulsiveness and poor self-control, we were kidding ourselves in thinking we could just limit their habit to weekends only. Over time we gave in to their pleas for more and what became one hour a day, then two, progressed to whatever they wanted as long as homework was done.
But not any longer. We’ve decided to pull the plug and frankly, it’s scary. It means I will have to dust off the Monopoly, plan to drive them to friends houses and otherwise fill their evenings with something besides Mario. For a socially-challenged suburbanite who is happy living on a quiet street, this will mean engaging my kids in ways I’ve been content to ignore.
So I’m asking God to give me the strength to get through this. Especially the strength to impart the bad news. Withdrawal can get ugly. But hopefully, with time, our lives will begin to be healthier in ways we’ve long been missing. Time to kick the habit. Game over.
