Whether we admit it or not, we have a deep appreciation for rules.
For rules provide us with clear expectations.
They tell us what to do, what is safe, and even sometimes what to wear. Rules define the boundaries of what should and should not be the case. To participate in the game of life, we submit daily to a myriad of both spoken and unspoken rules. You need only look as far as a major intersection during a power outage to witness the chaos that ensues in a world without rules.
My six-year-old is currently on a rule kick. She’s a vigilant enforcer with no qualms about shamelessly tattling on anyone. Try getting in the car without immediately putting on your seatbelt, and you’ll be promptly—and repeatedly—reminded of your oversight. To her, as to many of us, rules are supreme.
And I don't disagree with their utility or importance, but I am also confronted by their limitations. For rules are binary: you’re either adhering to them or breaking them. Critically, by themselves, rules do not account for something we all inevitably (and frequently) require: grace. Whether due to human nature or attention span, we simply cannot remain within the bounds. Even the best set of rules, authored by God Himself—the Ten Commandments—was not enough to keep people on track. Thankfully, God recognized this shortfall and sent a Redeemer.
“The former way of doing things, a system of commandments that never worked out the way it was supposed to, was set aside; the law brought nothing to maturity. Another way - Jesus! - a way that does work, that brings us right into the presence of God, is put in its place.”
Such is the story: humanity, having proven its inability to adhere to a rule-based life, was rescued by a merciful God who sacrificed His Son to give us a chance. We now stand within reach of redemption if only we accept it.
And many of us do! However, once restored, we often fall back into the belief that we can manage by merely following the rules, thinking we are "good enough" on our own. We shy away from troubling our Redeemer with what we deem trivial, forgetting that we never could, nor ever will, succeed alone.
Perhaps it’s time for us to abandon the illusion of self-sufficiency and fully embrace the Savior we've been given. Asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness—it’s an acknowledgment of reality. He was sacrificed precisely because we couldn't make it on our own.